1 day after The Attempt

It took the doctor well past dawn to put in the last stitch and announce that he was done. After assuring (and reassuring) Misao and Okina that Aoshi was still alive and was as well as could be expected, he stumbled to the cleanest corner of the room and promptly fell asleep.

But before he passed out, under his careful direction, Harabi, Kuro and Okina had lifted Aoshi enough for the women to remove the stained bedding and replace it with a fresh, clean futon. Kuro repaired the shoji to the best of his ability. Misao, while watching over her husband, scrubbed the floor clean of any traces of blood until her hands were raw. The body of the dead shinobi whom Misao killed was removed. She didn't hear what happened to it after that, nor did she care.

It was almost evening when Okon came to convince Misao to eat while she sat in vigil by Aoshi's side. "Misao, if you don't eat something, you're going to get even sicker than Aoshi, and then who'll take care of him?" the older woman said reasonably. She pushed the tray closer to Misao in hopes of tempting her appetite. "Kuro cooked miso soup just the way you like it, with seaweed."

Misao nodded without looking at the other kunoichi. "Thanks, Okon. I'll have some later." Besides cleaning the room, she hadn't moved from her knelt position next to her husband all day. The others were beginning to suspect that this would get to be a regular pattern.

After a while, Okon gave up and went downstairs in search of her own meal. Left alone again, Misao turned her gaze back to Aoshi, who was still paler than she liked. Every few hours, she coaxed in a few drops of broth the doctor prescribed him, massaging his throat in hopes that he would swallow some. And she did eat the food left out, if only to keep her family from pestering her again. Despite Kuro's best efforts, however, the food tasted like sawdust in her mouth and she had to force every bite down.

While she kept watch, Misao prayed often. Prayed to whatever god was listening, to whatever spirit was lurking about. She prayed for Aoshi to get better. Please, don't let him die.

It was almost midnight when Okina came in the room. "There you are, my pretty Misao!" he boomed.

Misao merely slanted him a dirty look. Where else would she be?

He, of course, ignored it and sat down next to his granddaughter, watching Aoshi for a long moment. Finally, he turned back to the Okashira and said, "The paperwork is piling up in your office. Last I saw, I could hardly open the door without a mountain of scrolls falling down on me."

In a better mood, Misao would have thought it made a funny picture even if it was more than slightly accurate. But with her husband still near death's door, she wasn't in any mood for any jokes. "So what?" she said shortly.

Okina sighed and shook his head. "Misao, you're still the Okashira."

That got Misao riled up like nothing else had. She exploded, "I don't give a damn about the Oniwabanshu, Jiya!"

She had risen to her knees and shouted so loud she panted from lack of breath. They stared at each other for a long moment without speaking.

Realizing what she had said, Misao slumped to the ground with an inaudible groan. It was at times like these when she wished she would stop and think before speaking. Really, really wished it. But the last thing she wanted to do was to read about someone complaining about the lack of meat in their diet or something. Not when her beloved Aoshi-sama was lying in bed, looking far paler than anyone should look.

Still, Misao could kick herself for not being able to keep her big mouth shut. Of course she cared about the Oniwabanshu. She just didn't want that to get in her way right now.

She saw Okina take a deep breath, which meant he was about to speak. She cringed inwardly, awaiting the backlash of her brash outburst. She had to steel herself for the inevitable 'You aren't worthy to be Okashira' lecture.

He said calmly, "Cursing is not very ladylike, Misao."

What?

Misao stared at the old man as if he had lost his mind – which she thought he might have from all the stress.

He merely reached over to pat her on the hand. "Misao," he said, voice suddenly kind. "I know it's hard to concentrate when the person you love most is in such a critical condition. But your feelings as a wife cannot overpower your responsibilities as a leader. You have to take care of everyone else before you can indulge yourself, even in situations like these." He paused and looked directly into her eyes. "Besides," he added softly, "we still have a prisoner, if you had forgotten."

She had forgotten. Every fiber of her being had concentrated on Aoshi-sama so hard that nothing else came to mind, not even her own health. The man who had nearly killed her husband was somewhere, probably in the cellar of the Aoiya. She hoped – rather viciously – that he was all chained up and the others were feeding him nothing but stale bread and musty water.

Misao sighed, absently reaching over to smooth Aoshi-sama's hair on his brow. The gesture helped calm her nerves some and allowed her to focus on her grandfather's words. Why did Jiya always have to make good points when all she wanted to do was to take care of her husband? She definitely didn't want to leave his side, but she also knew the old man was right. But how could she stay here and take care of Oniwaban business?

Duh. Sometimes Misao thought her brain was a little slow when it came to bright ideas. She exhaled slowly and turned back to the expectant man. "All right, Jiya. Bring the paperwork here."

Okina smiled and slowly rose to his feet. "Yes, Okashira," he said with a slight bow before leaving.

It only occurred to Misao much later that it was the first time Jiya had directly addressed her by her title.

- - - - -

Misao had stayed up most of the night working her way through the various documents that she half believed was just thrown onto her desk just for someone to get it done. ("You don't want to write up this report? Just toss it in the Okashira's office with the rest of the papers, she won't notice!") As Jiya had said, there was a lot to go through but she was actually grateful for something to keep her mind off her more morbid thoughts. Sleep was out of the question even though Misao was completely exhausted.

She glanced up occasionally, alert, as she heard a faint shuffle before realizing it was the guard that Jiya had posted outside the door. With the first assassination attempt failing, it would be safer to assume another one might occur, and soon, while the injured were still healing.

Misao absently scratched the bandage on her left arm, her brow puckered into a frown as she dogged through all the branch reports. Obeying protocol, Omasu and Shiro had sent a brief note stating they reached their destination and would report in with any news of the rogue shinobi as soon as they gathered any information. (They, of course, couldn't be told of the current situation at the Aoiya; not only would it cause them undue worry, but their cover might be compromised.) Despite the dire situation at home, it was important they finish their mission. After all, the rogue shinobi wouldn't rest just because Aoshi was hurt.

Yet another burden to worry about.

Misao sighed and set the last of the scrolls aside, too tired to work anymore. She stared down at the still man in the futon. His breath was quite shallow but he was still alive. She savored those words quietly, knowing in her heart that had something happened to Aoshi-sama, she probably wouldn't have survived it intact. After so many years of waiting and searching for him to come home, and two more of pining for him, she had finally realized her dream of marriage to the only man she could see herself with. It was almost frightening thing, to need someone so much.

Leaning over, Misao brushed his bangs off his forehead gently. She bent close so hier mouth brushed his left ear as she spoke. "Wake up soon, Aoshi-sama," she whispered. "I need you with me."

There was no response, not even a twitch.

Deflated, Misao slumped back in a slouch which would have caused Jiya to have a fit. ("Misao! A shinobi does not look like a wrung-out rag when sitting!") Still, she smiled, though it was only a shadow of what it once was. "I'll wait for you to wake up, Aoshi-sama," she said softly. "You just take all the time you need to rest before you come back to me."

In the meantime, she had some thinking to do. Feeling exhausted but sure she couldn't sleep, Misao crawled to the nearest wall. She stared up at the ceiling as if it would give her some answers as she slumped against the cool wood ("Misao! A shinobi does not sit in such an undignified position!").

Funny. She never realized just how much Jiya's voice was present in her head.

Misao shivered; that could never be a good thing.

There was a soft knock on the door and Misao struggled to sit up, eyebrows lifting in surprise. It was only an hour or two away from dawn, who would still be up this late? Unless, of course, this was assassination attempt, round two, and they had killed the sentry on duty. But then, they wouldn't knock before coming in, would they? Easing a kunai from her waist, she called out softly, "Come in."

The shoji slid open almost soundlessly – Misao made a mental note that Kuro was pretty handy to have around if the doors ever broke – to reveal Okon. "I saw your light and wanted to check in on you and Aoshi," the kuniochi said, equally quiet.

Misao slid the kunai back into place and gestured her inside. She caught a glimpse of the sentry who peered inside briefly before resuming his rigid position on guard. "What are you doing up so late?" she asked the older woman, who settled near her.

Okon shrugged, her gaze sliding to rest on Aoshi. "I keep waking up. I suspect Kuro and Okina are having the same problems as well. What happened here has affected us all deeply."

With a start, Misao realized how true that was. She wasn't the only one that was impacted; it was everyone in the Aoiya. After all, they all considered each other family, with a firm bond that had deepened through missions and trials and years together. It shamed her, to have been wrapped up so much in her own grief that she didn't even consider what the others were going through. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

The older kunoichi didn't respond for a long moment. "I'm fine," she said at last. "We're all fine. I just …" Tears started to leak out from the corner of her eyes, startling Misao. "They almost killed Aoshi and – they almost got you too, Misao!"

Misao could only stare in amazement as steady, practical Okon burst into tears, burying her face in her hands while sobs racked her body. This was … unexpected. Of course, she knew how much her family loved her, but to realize the depth of their feelings was astounding, to say the least.

Scrambling her wits together, Misao finally crawled over to Okon and wrapped her arms around the older woman. "It's all right," she whispered. "We're safe. They didn't get to us." It felt supremely odd to try and comfort the woman who had acted like her older sister for so long but Misao knew Okon needed reassurance. Besides, she was the Okashira, it was her duty to comfort her people in times of despair.

Under Misao's quiet words and soothing pats, Okon finally quieted down. She looked at the younger woman with a sheepish smile as she wiped her eyes. "You must think I've gone insane."

"Of course not!" Misao shook her head furiously. "Kuro and Jiya will never cry, and you're just shedding tears for those of us who can't." She smiled at her and sat back. "Besides, it's a good reminder to me … just how much everyone cares and why I wanted to become the Okashira in the first place."

Okon sighed and patted Misao on the cheek. "You're growing up too fast, Misao." She didn't say anymore for a while, instead looking over at Aoshi. "He looks a little better," she said finally. "He's not as pale as he looked before."

Misao merely hmmed, skeptical about the optimism but unwilling to contradict her. "Okon, can we have breakfast in here tomorrow? I mean, today?"

Surprised, the older woman looked back at her. "Um, I suppose. But why?"

"I need to speak to everyone." Actually, Misao needed to speak with Jiya, but she also wanted to watch Kuro and Okon to see how they were really doing. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to have some close contact with one another, especially during these times.

Okon slanted the young leader a curious look but nodded. "All right, I'll just make something simple." She raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. "But I suppose before I do that, I should go try to sleep a little more. You should get some rest, too, Misao."

Misao mustered up a tiny smile. "I'll try. Good night." She watched as Okon stood and left the room silently before crawling back to her wall. Settling against the wood panels comfortably, she watched her Aoshi-sama as she planned her next move.

Now

The moon displayed its full power in the crisp, night air, burning brightly enough for Misao to practice her kempo without lighting a lamp. Sweat beaded on her brow as she ran through the drills Aoshi-sama had taught her long ago, back before he left her in Kyoto with Jiya. She concentrated on her movements to make them sharp and precise. Any error in her form resulted in her starting over again.

She was so intent on her training that she didn't seem to hear the soft shuffle of feet as it approached the garden. Aoshi stopped a few feet away, watching her thrust her hands and feet out in a rhythmic pattern that he recognized and could do in his sleep. Her movements were as graceful as a sleek cat, controlled and deliberate. He shook his head ever so slightly; with a little more training, Misao could probably equal his ability in kempo. Though she would never have the same force behind his attacks, her speed and agility made up for the lack of power.

She finally finished the last drill and bent over with her hands on her knees, panting from the exertion. Misao absently reached up with one arm to wipe the sweat from her brow before straightening and pulling out a kunai for each hand. Breathing in deeply, she began her kunai exercises. The metal glinted in the silvery beams, catching the moonlight to reflect the sharp edge with each graceful movement she made.

Aoshi watched silently as she went through the motions, critiquing her form for any mistakes or weaknesses. Ever since The Attempt, Misao had taken her training even more seriously than before and he could no longer find any flaw in her movements. As she spun, ducked, thrust, and dodged, he caught glimpses of the determination dominant in the cerulean eyes.

His Misao was no longer a little girl or an overgrown child playing Okashira. She was, Aoshi realized in that instant, a true shinobi.

She finally stopped her movements, taking another moment to catch her breath before sheathing her weapons away. "You should be resting, Aoshi-sama," she said quietly, turning in his direction.

Aoshi wondered how long she knew he was there. "I was worried about you," he said.

"I'm fine. I barely had time to train this week and thought I should get in at least an hour before going to bed." Misao wiped her brow again with the sleeve of her uniform and headed towards him. "With everything that's been going on, it's harder to find time for myself."

And for me, his thoughts spoke up but Aoshi shoved the regret aside. He knew from experience that the position of Okashira demanded more time than one truly had to spare. "Aa."

"I know I've been ignoring you, too, but … well, you know." She stopped within arms' reach, tilting her head back to look at him with her earnest expression, as if begging for his understanding.

Aoshi slowly reached to cup her cheek in his hand, ignoring the burning sensation that traveled up his arm as he moved. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm proud of you, Misao. You've never faltered in your duties despite the situation. I couldn't have done it better myself."

There was silence for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, Misao flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she buried her face against his chest. Caught off guard at the sudden movement, Aoshi stumbled back a step before regaining his balance. His body screamed at the sudden pressure and movement but he endured the pain with his usual patience as he wrapped his arms around his wife. When he moved, his yukata sported a few wet spots.

Misao was crying.

Okina had told him that Misao hadn't shed any tears except the first night when they were attacked. Aoshi, of course, had been unconscious for it all and relied on the older man to fill him in on the news Misao didn't want to share with him, mostly out of concern in burdening him. How like Misao to think that she was helping him not worry by not telling him anything.

Whatever the case may be, Misao was crying now, sobbing into his yukata and soaking it with her constant tears. Aoshi remained silent as he held her in his embrace. He would have stroked her hair except the movement was too painful to maintain continuously. At times like these, he cursed his weakness even more, unable to offer the support his wife needed.

When her tears finally slowed, she pulled her face from him and tried a smile that ended up more like a tremulous expression. "I'm sorry," she apologized as she wiped her face with the sleeve of her gi. "I don't know what came over me."

"I do," Aoshi said firmly. He would never admit it, but it secretly pleased him that Misao would feel comfortable enough to do something vulnerable like shedding tears, when she had not done so even in front of Okina. No doubt Misao thought to present a strong front for her followers and hiding her tears was a part of that. He was not going to allow Misao to retreat into her 'Okashira' mask with him, not when she opened up to him first. "You are frustrated, angry, exhausted, and worried, all at once. That is why you cried." He hand moved to wipe off a stray tear, the motion causing him to grimace slightly as the familiar searing pain traveled down his arm.

As if understanding his determination to keep the air open between them, Misao let her face fall back onto his chest, ignoring the wetness her tears had caused. "It was more than that," she said softly. "It's the first time you – anyone, really – said that they were proud of me. Proud that I was the Okashira." Unconsciously, she clutched him more tightly, causing her husband to gasp in slight pain. "Oh, oops. Sorry," she said sheepishly as she pulled back.

Aoshi shook his head, unable to speak, and drew her against him again. He savored the contact between their bodies, acknowledging the pain throbbing up and down his torso and arms but refusing to let it rule over him. In just a few short hours, Misao would return to being the Okashira of the Oniwabanshu and he the injured, pitied husband. Right now, he wanted to share this moment with her. "I was always proud of you, Misao," he whispered.

"Were you really?" Misao asked ruefully, absently rubbing a cheek against his chest. "The first three years of my being Okashira wasn't much."

"It was exactly what the Oniwabanshu needed," Aoshi said firmly. "Have you ever wondered why I never challenged you for the position, nor demanded it back?"

Misao's eyes widened – well, of course she had wondered! She had come so close to asking him a million times but always kept her silence. The past wasn't something Aoshi brought up readily and she had always tried to respect that.

Pulling away from him so she could look up into his eyes, Misao blurted out, "Because you felt guilty for nearly killing Jiya and turning your back against your people?"

Aoshi blinked for a moment, the only reaction that showed his surprise at her rather blunt outburst. "Er, yes, that too," he conceded. "But there was another reason …"

When he didn't speak anymore, Misao tugged on his yukata impatiently. She had to know the reason; leave it to her husband to make her beg at a time like this! "What?" she demanded. "It's not fair stopping just like that, Aoshi-sama!"

The tall man actually had to fight back a small smile lurking at the corners of his lips. That had been the old Misao speaking, the one whose light had broken through his self-directed misery all those years ago. "As you well know, Misao, life is not fair," he said gravely, barely able to keep his expression straight.

She glared at him, crossing her arms across her chest. "That doesn't mean you have a right to torture me like this. Please tell me!"

Aoshi couldn't stop his lips from twitching at her petulant expression. There was no doubt Misao was a grown woman, but he really did miss her child-like antics. Well, sometimes. "I never challenged you, Misao, because I knew that you were the leader the Oniwabanshu needed."

He enjoyed the way her mouth fell open at his words. Rendering Misao speechless was too rare not to find any satisfaction in so he savored the moment before continuing on. "I had been away far too long and while Okina did his best, the Oniwaban needed someone who cared for its people." He closed his eyes, remembering when he was growing up how much he admired Makimachi-sama. "You show it in so many ways, Misao. The way you know all the names of the shinobi, the way you always ask about their well-being or know exactly what is going on in their lives. That is an important quality in a leader."

There was a puzzled look in the cerulean eyes as she absorbed his words for a long while. Finally, she said, "But I'm doing what you or Jiya would have done. It's not that big of a deal, knowing a few names or bringing soup over to someone when they're sick."

Aoshi shook his head. "I told you once before, Misao. I was the leader in times of war. I did not have the time or the luxury to ask about the welfare of the people. My first and foremost duties weren't to the shinobi but the citizens of Edo. They were just bodies to me and the lower the dead count, the better. And Okina was too busy protecting and raising you. We had a war to win. But the way you care for the Oniwabanshu now has kept us together." With some effort, he shifted his hand back to cup her cheek, feathering his thumb on her soft, damp skin. "Don't change, Misao," he murmured. "Not for me or for anyone else. Remain the woman who you are now and do your best to lead your people. That is all we want. That is all we need."

Misao remained silent for a long while as if contemplating his words. Aoshi watched her face, noting the flicker of emotions parading through her lovely blue eyes. When she finally blinked and gazed back at him, he merely nodded his head. That one look was enough for him to know she understood.

AN: Another round of applause for my beta Kageharu Kaco who was kind enough to beta this chapter. As usual, her comments and encouragement continue to help me muddle through this project.

That said, this may be the last update for probably another 6 weeks since I have to re-evaluate where exactly this story is going. Somehow, the plot isn't as clear as I hoped and I need to make sure it's still on course (so much for outlines!). That means I'll have to start from Chapter 1 and sort it all out, hopefully in a more coherent picture so it's not buried under all the drama of Aoshi's injuries. Also, reading over the last 4 chapters have made me cringe so a re-edit is definitely in order. I may also change the format of this story, since some people have mentioned they're getting confused by the time shifts between each chapter. If I decide to change it, that'll require a lot of shuffling of chapter parts around.

As usual, any comments, criticisms, and suggestions are always welcome. Feel free to pm or email me.