Three weeks and 1 day ago

Okina surveyed the Okashira's office with a frown. Misao was asleep, her head on the desk. She was drooling on a scroll and looking far younger than nineteen years of age. Definitely not how the Okashira should be looking.

Beside him, Aoshi didn't blink twice but merely stepped forward to gently shake her awake. "Misao," he said. "Wake up."

Slowly, she blinked her eyes several times before they finally opened to reveal sleepy cerulean orbs. Sitting up, she stifled a yawn with one hand and rubbed her eyes. "Aoshi-sama?" she said drowsily.

"You should have come up to bed if you were tired, Misao," Aoshi said.

"I only meant to close my eyes for a minute," she mumbled, glancing at the messy papers strewn across her desk. She frowned at the disorganization. When did her desk look like it was hit by a tornado? The blunt reality of paperwork woke her up like nothing else did, albeit grumpily. "Is it morning already?"

"It's been morning for several hours now," Okina said dryly. "I gather you were working on logging those reports?"

"And the Aoiya budget and the supplies request and the personnel transfer papers …" Misao sighed and rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers. "Does this ever end?" she asked in despair.

"No," both men answered at the same time.

"Aaaagh!" Misao clutched her aching head, shaking it in furious denial. "I can't concentrate on everything at once! I've got a possible security situation but that keeps getting interrupted by stupid things like 'the Aoiya needs to budget for more horseradishes for next year's vegetable ration' or 'Izuko of Yokohama wants to transfer to Nagasaki to be with his fiancée' or something equally stupid. I need more time!"

"Misao, you merely need to learn how to manage the time you have," Aoshi interrupted before his wife went on a twenty minute rant on the impossibility of the position. "Recognize, prioritize, organize, and execute," he recited solemnly.

Misao lowered her hands and stared at Aoshi as if he had grown an extra appendage. "Aoshi-sama, you've just achieved a new level of stuffiness that I never knew existed, even for you."

Aoshi gave her one of those narrow-eyed looks that conveyed he didn't appreciate her comment. The truth hurt, sometimes.

"He's right, Misao," Okina said. "Every leader before you has been able to handle what you're going through – and then some. The only way your position is unique is that it is an era of peace, which means less is happening. Therefore, theoretically, you should have more time to devote to everything." He sighed and shook his head. "We can't have an Okashira so disorganized that she can't even handle multiple situations at once. If you're feeling that overwhelmed, Misao, perhaps you should consider stepping down."

Aoshi shot Okina a look that could only be described as startled. Did the old man have a death wish? Why would he say such a thing, especially to Misao of all people?

As the taller man expected, his wife did not take that suggestion very graciously. "Jiya!" Misao yelled, jumping up onto her chair in her anger. "How can you even suggest that? The Oniwabanshu is my birthright! I'm the Okashira and I'll let you know if I want to resign!"

"Just because your family name happens to be Makimachi doesn't mean you're right for the position, Misao," Okina said, apparently unperturbed at her anger. "It's the person that matters, not the blood." He nodded towards Aoshi. "Ask your husband."

Aoshi narrowed his eyes at his former mentor. He did not want to get in the middle of this argument. He didn't particularly consider himself cowardly in a fight, but a prudent man knew when to run. Now would be one of those times.

But before Aoshi could even twitch a muscle, Misao switched her scowl in his direction. "So you're saying I can't do this job?" she said accusingly. "Well, I'll show you both that you're wrong!" She hopped off the chair and stormed out of the room.

Aoshi exhaled slowly and turned to Okina. "Your wish to have great-grandchildren may have to wait a while longer if you keep provoking Misao that way." And if you keep getting me involved in these arguments, he added silently.

Okina cackled. "My pretty Misao can't hold a grudge to save her life. She'll come around soon enough. In the meantime, it'll give her enough motivation to finish the paperwork that's piling up."

"That would require her to be in this office, would it not?"

The old man frowned and looked around. "Hmm, hadn't thought of that."

At that moment, Misao stomped back in. "Get out," she said grumpily. "I have work to do. And no one bother me until I say so."

---------------------

Omasu and Shiro departed an hour later to investigate the rumors about the rogue shinobi. Misao finished logging the reports for the past two weeks. She had, at least, managed to finish the budget report for the Aoiya last night and gave it to Okon. She then tackled the supplies request for each branch.

Really, who knew shinobi ate so much food or needed new clothes in such little time? During the times of peace, most of the Oniwabanshu had their own means to support themselves but as the main branch, Misao was obligated to provide whatever was needed.

It was surprisingly satisfying to organize everything into a smooth finish. Sure, there were a lot of things that confused her but since Misao was bent on proving to her grandfather and husband that she could be a good Okashira, she dogged through it all. By the time she finished reading the last of the paperwork, it was nearly midnight.

Aoshi knocked on the door before opening it to enter the office. "Misao, it's late."

She stifled a yawn and set the scroll down. "Yeah, I know. I'll be up in a minute. I just want to finish this report."

Aoshi studied her desk, which was much neater than it had been this morning and far more devoid of paper as well. "How far did you get?"

Misao tilted her chin up proudly. "I finished everything," she said triumphantly. Take that, Aoshi-sama!

But he merely nodded, as if expecting such a response. "Very good. I will be meditating until you come upstairs, then."

Misao scowled at her husband's lack of reaction as he left. Stupid cold exterior, she thought grumpily. He could at least have praised her for her diligence. Sometimes it was trying to be married to a man who wouldn't react even if his hand was being sliced to ribbons.

A wicked grin crept up on her lips. There was, at least, one way of getting a reaction out of him. With a happy wriggle in her seat, she turned back to her desk and picked up her brush. She would jot off a quick note and go to bed to make it happen.

Spying from the shoji he left slightly ajar, Aoshi couldn't help a small smirk forming at the corner of his lips as he watched his wife. She was so predictable, responding exactly as he expected she would to his lack of reaction. The sly grin that was so Misao indicated she was planning something pleasurable for them both. Exactly what he had planned.

It would be the last time Aoshi would see Misao smile that way for three weeks.

Now

Okon left for the capital that afternoon with the instructions to meet with the head of the Tokyo branch and find out who had ordered the weapons and cloth and why. She was also to contact Sugarplum for suspicious rumors about the rogue shinobi and, if possible, investigate them discreetly. By the time she left for the train station, Misao had cautioned her at least fifteen times to be careful, even of other fellow Oniwabanshu members. The good-intentioned warnings exasperated the older woman to no end. "I've done missions before, Misao!" Okon had exclaimed before leaving for the train station in a huff.

Misao knew that, but this time the threat was an unknown enemy who had attacked her family member once. They would not hesitate to try and kill again.

With yet another member of her close-knit family gone, possibly into danger, Misao knew she wouldn't be able to sleep well. Even after Aoshi had drifted off, she tried – really tried – to do the same. Finally giving it up as a lost cause, she arose and dressed in her uniform. Slipping out of the room, she nodded to Yoshi in greeting before heading downstairs to her office.

Sitting in the relative silence of the Aoiya, Misao lit several fat candles arranged on her desk. When the flames leapt to shed its light, she leaned back in her chair and stared thoughtfully at the scroll hanging on the wall, framed by the dancing shadows the candle created. Jiya had told once told her that her blood grandfather had hung it up on his own office wall. The characters were familiar as she had traced them with her finger for years, wondering and trying to remember her family. The words comforted her during those nights when she had cried for the lost embrace of her mother or the comforting deep voice of her father. It was a simple saying, with a twist the former Makimachi Okashira had added: 'Blood is thicker than water, but loyalty is more precious than blood.'

Her grandfather had valued the loyalty of his people. In return for this trust, he tried to protect them to the best of his ability. He had reminded himself of this every day when he looked at the wall scroll. Misao understood now why he did so; to fail the people who followed her so faithfully was not even a choice.

She sighed and reached up to rub her forehead absently, the pressure from her responsibilities weighing on her shoulders. But now was not the time to indulge in self-pity. Forcfully pulling her thoughts back to the situation at hand, Misao straightened up in her chair and reached for a rolled up parchment. She unfurled the paper and read it again for the sixteenth time since receiving it earlier in the evening. The message was quite disturbing: a group of rogue shinobi had attacked a police compound in Osaka and had stolen a large cache of weapons. The alarming part was that some of the ninja were suspected to be Oniwabanshu members.

Misao pursed her lips, considering the circumstances. She had discussed the situation with Jiya but hadn't come to a satisfactory conclusion on what to do. It was obvious that even her own organization wasn't immune to the changes that were happening.

After the establishment of the Meiji government, Misao could remember many of the remaining Oniwabanshu members decided to retire, continuing on in the jobs their cover had provided for them. There were now only about four dozen members remaining scattered among the larger cities, compared to the near two hundred thirteen years ago. Once Misao had become Okashira, she had made an effort to travel around and greet each member personally, aware that her self-declaration as leader was meaningless if they had no confidence in her. As Jiya had pointed out, her surname meant nothing to them.

She hadn't received any disturbing reactions from people, not that she could remember. Misao frowned as she tried to recall the visits from three years ago. Nothing strange had come to mind. Most of them were skeptical, of course, but there were also old-timers like her adopted grandfather who had enough faith in Misao (or at least faith in Jiya, whom they knew wouldn't allow someone incompetent as Okashira) to give her benefit of the doubt. Overall, the visits had gone very well.

So perhaps this sudden influx of restless, rogue shinobi was a recent occurrence. Misao sighed and tossed the scroll aside; that conclusion didn't much help her at all. "I suppose I should write a letter to the branch head and ask them to initiate an investigation," she mumbled to herself. What else could she do? Without more evidence and without any leads, all she think of was to gather as much information as possible. But it seemed as though she couldn't even trust her own ninjas anymore. Not in Tokyo and not, Misao admitted to herself, anywhere else.

"Argh!" Misao wanted to bang her head on the table but that would end up giving her a headache. The only people she could depend were right here in the Aoiya but there was no way the five of them would be able to cover all the branches of the Oniwabanshu by themselves. What other choice did she have but to cautiously rely on them until more information came in otherwise?

Reaching for clean paper and a brush, Misao began to compose her message. After that was finished, she wrote another letter to Saitoh, asking for further information on the attack. Although the former Shinsengumi member was based in Tokyo, Misao didn't doubt for a minute that he would know the most current news in all of Japan. The man was that dedicated. Or obsessed, whatever you wanted to call it.

Plus, Saitoh would be able to confirm whether or not the Osaka branch leader was telling the truth in his investigation.

Once the ink had been dried on both papers, Misao rolled them up, sealed it with her signet stamp, and set them aside to be sent later. She then focused herself on the paperwork which would multiply like magic between now and dusk.

With the more difficult Oniwabanshu business out of the way, Misao found she could concentrate more easily on the rest of the items demanding her attention. She immersed herself with all the reports with the same fierce concentration she was developing when someone knocked on her door.

At her distracted command, the shoji slid open and Okina poked his head in. "You look terrible," the old man informed her bluntly as he studied her wan face. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

Misao sent him a half-hearted, baleful look. "First you complained that I didn't spend enough time working. Now you're saying I'm working too hard. Make up your mind!"

Okina clucked his tongue. "I didn't say to half-kill yourself in the process. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just couldn't sleep, that's all." Misao wrote down the necessary comments before setting the paper aside. Setting down the brush, she took a moment to stifle a yawn and stretch her arms out. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Just a little past dawn. Why couldn't you sleep?"

Misao groaned. It was just like Jiya to persist where attention was not wanted. "I had a lot on my mind," she said carelessly with a shrug. "I doubt I'm the first person who couldn't sleep through the night. Stop worrying so much." Then, before the old man could pester her with further questions, she asked, "Is Aoshi-sama still asleep?"

Okina shot her a look; he knew she was changing the subject but decided to let it go. For now. "Yes. Garo is on duty now."

"Genjo," Misao said absently as she picked up another scroll from her desk. "His name is Genjo."

"Genjo, right," Okina agreed. Really, he was just too old to be expected to remember everyone's names.

"He's fairly new, isn't he? Transferred from Ibaraki City in the Osaka prefecture about seven months ago?"

"That sounds about right," Okina said slowly. He peered closely at the young woman still scanning the paper in her hand. "What about it?"

Misao glanced at the scroll she had tossed aside hours ago. "Maybe he knows someone who might have participated in the weapons raid."

The old man heaved a sigh at her words, suddenly looking his seventy-odd years. "So you think some of the Oniwabanshu members could be involved?"

"I hope not, but I can't go on hope alone." Looking frustrated, Misao resisted the urge to kick her desk – she knew from past experience it wouldn't do anything but give her a bruise the next day. "There's something big that's happening, Jiya. It's happening right under our noses and we can't do a thing about it. I just wish we knew what's going on!"

"I do too, my pretty Misao." Okina sighed again and looked at the wall scroll. The meaning hadn't changed in all the years it hung in the Okashira's office. "I do, too."

--------------------

They were eating breakfast when Aoshi appeared in the dining area, panting slightly from the excursion. Five pairs of eyes blinked as the tall man made his way to his usual seat. "I'm sorry I'm late for the meal," he said as he tried to gracefully folded himself onto a tatami mat. He actually just flopped onto it, but that was all right, so long as he didn't fall sideways or something equally embarrassing.

Everyone stared at him in amazement as he moved to pick up his chopsticks. Aware that every eye was on him, Aoshi glanced around the sea of faces. "Is there something wrong?" he inquired blandly, using the time to subtly catch his breath. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck and down his shirt and he was grateful no one saw it.

"Um," Misao began but Okina broke in.

"No, nothing at all," the old man said cheerfully. "It's good to see you up and about, Aoshi! All that lazing around in bed during the morning really isn't very healthy for you, you know. Misao, shouldn't you be serving your husband?" He emphasized his words, hoping she would be able to pick it up.

Everyone else took their cue from Okina and resumed eating. All except Misao, who was staring at her grandfather as if he was speaking in a different language. After a long moment, realization finally dawned on her face and she nodded hurriedly.

"Right, right! Um, Aoshi-sama, what would you like to eat?" Before he could protest, Misao snatched his plate up, chopsticks poised to get him whatever side dish he preferred.

Exasperation warred with secret amusement at how carefully everyone was still treating him. It was times like this when Aoshi wanted everyone to stop considering him an invalid and more like a human again. But he had to admit his body was still thrumming with pain and he probably wouldn't be able to manage the dexterity required to use his chopsticks throughout the whole meal. And Okina knew that; hence, his reason for hinting at Misao to do her 'duty'. Aoshi resigned himself to more coddling. "A little bit of everything, please, Misao."

Like an obedient wife, Misao heaped the portions onto his plate and set it before him. But she didn't seem satisfied by that small act and hovered over his food like an anxious bee. "Do you want me to feed you?" she asked solicitously.

Omasu coughed and quickly set her chopsticks down, murmuring an apology while picking up her teacup. Kuro had to pound Shiro's back as the bigger man choked on his rice. Okina beamed at his granddaughter in approval.

Aoshi glanced around the table before focusing his attention back to his wife. "No, thank you, Misao. I'm certain I can do it myself," he said rather dryly. As if to prove his point, he began to eat quietly, ignoring the hacking Shiro.

Undeterred, Misao kept a sharp eye on him. She was watching him intently, which actually unnerved Aoshi to the point that he was losing his appetite. As if reading his mind, Okina finally spoke as he took pity on his former student.

"Misao, you need to finish your meal, too," the old man said gently. "You have a long day ahead of you and since you didn't get much sleep, you'll need to keep your energy up in other ways."

That comment caused Aoshi to send a sharp look at his wife, who squirmed uncomfortably. "Yes, Jiya," she said meekly and began eating her own food. She refused to look at her husband. She didn't need to, since she could all but feel that piercing glare boring at the side of her head.

"And Aoshi, we'll need you and your guard to come by the office before you leave for the temple," Okina continued as if he didn't realize the sudden tension arising from the couple. "We have a few questions to ask Giro –"

"Genjo," Misao interrupted.

Okina didn't miss a beat. "– Genjo about Osaka."

At that, Aoshi swung his gaze to Okina. "What happened in Osaka?"

The old man looked at Misao who was trying to look extremely busy chewing on her rice. He sighed; no matter how mature Misao might have grown, she was still like a child in her own way. "Rogue shinobi stole a large cache of weapons from the police department. Our source says some of the Oniwaban ninjas might be involved."

A muscle twitched at Aoshi's jaw at the news. "I see," he said, laying down his chopsticks. "We'll need to send someone to investigate this matter. Someone who can get further news from the police, and preferably even look at the area where the weapons were stolen as well."

Misao finally looked up from her food. "Um, already done, Aoshi-sama."

Her husband sent her a sharp look. Gazes locked as they seemed to measure one another. Finally, Aoshi slowly relaxed and his expression reverted back to its usual impassive self. "Of course you did, Misao. Forgive me, I didn't mean to imply you were lax in your duties."

"Certainly," Misao murmured and set her own chopsticks down. "Excuse me, I should get back to work. Please be careful when you go to the temple, Aoshi-sama. And don't forget to stop by with Genjo before you leave so we can question him. Jiya, I'll see you in the office after you finish eating."

There was silence long after Misao left the kitchen. Kuro, Shiro, and Omasu all traded uneasy glances with one other before looking at Okina reflexively. The old man was stroking his long goatee thoughtfully, watching Aoshi with knowing eyes.

"She is not upset with you. She understands what you are feeling."

Aoshi slowly met his former mentor's gaze. "Aa. I know." He didn't say anything more and braced his hands on the table to stand up, rattling the dishes slightly with his movement. "I'll be along shortly with Genjo, Okina." With a nod to the rest, he limped off to his room.

---------------------

Naturally, Genjo claimed neither he nor his former comrades would ever consider betraying the Oniwabanshu. With his earnest, pleading expression and his inability to dissimilate, Misao was inclined to believe the youth when he insisted he knew nothing. A quick glance at Jiya told her the old man agreed with her assessment. "All right, Genjo, I appreciate your answers. Please wait out in the hall for Aoshi-sama."

The young shinobi nodded, offered a hasty bow, and exited the room, all without looking at anyone in the eye.

Misao sighed. "I guess I should tell him not to blab this to anyone else." It would normally be understood between a ninja and his leader but she had a feeling she would need to actually say so for it to be done.

"I'll inform him," Aoshi said, finally speaking for the first time.

She darted a quick look in his direction before nodding. "Thank you." Picking up her brush, she began to fiddle with it absently. "About breakfast," she began uneasily.

"I overstepped my boundaries," he said quietly, interrupting her. "I apologize."

Surprise flickered on her face, shattering that blank look Misao kept on these days. "No, that's not … I mean …" She squirmed in her seat and glowered at the writing implement in her hand as if it had caused her stutter. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Misao looked back up to her husband. "Thank you. For making sure I'm doing the right thing." She glanced at the wall scroll briefly. "For helping me become the leader the Oniwabanshu deserves. For my people." Here, she smiled at him, a tentative offer. "For our people."

Aoshi stared at Misao for a long moment, slightly stunned. He had not expected such words coming from her mouth.

But then again, perhaps he should have. After all, the past three weeks had brought about changes. Not only to Misao, but to them all. Even him.

So he returned her smile with a small one of his own and spoke. "You are welcome."

AN: Cheese galore! I need to go write some angst or something to make up for the utter sugar for this ending. (On the upside, I did update a couple days earlier than planned.) This is why I need a beta, who would (ostensibly) stop me from writing so much sap. If you're interested, drop me a line. Otherwise, please check my profile for future updates. Oh, and if the switching of time is confusing, please let me know. It will be very imperative later on in the story.