Disclaimer: Not mine. RK belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki.
Without Words
3-Things Left Unsaid
"You sure you want to do this?"
Aoshi looked up from his notes to see his research assistant Hannya giving him a worried look. Much as he was pleased to have such a loyal and trustworthy assistant, Aoshi admitted that Hannya was the last person he wanted to see. He had meant to slip quietly into the lab without running into anyone, before he headed to Kyoto that afternoon.
Out of all the members on his research team, Hannya was the only one who knew why he was leaving. They had known each other for years, tracing the friendship back to Kyoto, when things were different. Hannya was quick-witted, but he wouldn't have landed a much-coveted position on the research team if Aoshi hadn't had enough faith in his abilities. Aoshi knew he could count on the older man if things got out of hand. "It needs to be done," he said simply.
"Shishio won't be pleased," Hannya stated.
Aoshi flinched inwardly at the name his assistant had so casually tossed out, but tried not to show it. "I guess not," he replied.
"If you need a hand, boss…" Hannya's voice trailed off. It was then that Aoshi realized that Hannya hadn't called him 'boss' in a long time.
And he remembered.
***
"Watch out, boss!" Hannya cried out in warning.
Aoshi whirled around, perfectly deflecting the blow aimed at him. In one swift movement, he pulled out his kodachi out, burying it in the man's abdomen. Nobody carried a kodachi around nowadays, but this had always been Aoshi's special weapon. There was nothing he trusted more.
His attacker fell, and in the end, only Aoshi and Hannya were left standing.
"Let's get --" Aoshi began to say, only to stop in mid-sentence. Hannya's face was horribly disfigured, a mass of cuts and scratches, of bruises and blood. One eye was a nasty purple shade while the other remained shut.
This hadn't even been Hannya's fight. It was Aoshi's through and through, a routine assignment that had gone wrong. It was supposed to be simple – get into the Kobayashi compound, eliminate the evidence, get out. But he hadn't counted on the welcome party waiting for him, and soon enough, eliminating the evidence took on a whole new meaning.
Aoshi hadn't been scared. At sixteen, he had been in worse situations during the last six years of his life. But something didn't feel right then, and he was grateful when Hannya turned up.
Then instinct kicked in.
Aoshi grabbed Hannya's arm and raced for the window, the older man a step behind him. "Move it, Hannya. This place is going to --"
A loud noise tore into the night, and Aoshi felt that he was being engulfed in flames.
But there was a hand on his back, pushing him into the cool night. Finally, the darkness came.
***
Hannya's words echoed in his thoughts. "If you need a hand, boss…" After twelve years, the scars and burns he had received that night never fully healed, constantly reminding Aoshi of how it felt to fail someone who placed his entire faith – his entire life – in him. It was Hannya who saved him that night, Hannya who suffered the fate that should have been his. Aoshi had gotten out of that explosion relatively unscathed, but inside, it had marked him for life. He had vowed to repay the man's devotion to him.
Aoshi nodded. "I'll keep it in mind." He gestured towards the laboratory. "What I really need is for you to keep on monitoring our studies. With Beshimi finishing last month's report, you'll have to convince Hyottoko and Shikijyou to pick up the slack."
"All right then." Hannya shot him a wry smile, giving his already disfigured features an even more intimidating look. "Good luck, boss."
Aoshi grabbed his briefcase and headed out of the room. Hannya was there to watch his back, but Aoshi had promised to himself that he would always do things alone. He didn't want to hold someone's fate in his hands again.
The train for Kyoto was leaving in an hour. A long time ago, he thought that it would all end here, in Tokyo.
He was wrong.
***
Somewhere, a phone rang. Someone answered.
The message was simple: "He's gone."
***
"I can't believe you forgot today was your own birthday!" Kaoru squealed at Misao, teasing her friend mercilessly all throughout dinner.
Misao laughed good-naturedly. "I didn't forget! I had so many things to think of that it just … slipped my mind."
"Same difference," Kaoru giggled.
Misao glanced at the small group of friends that had gathered at her apartment for her birthday. There was her grandfather Okina, beaming at her proudly from one end of the table. Beside her sat Kaoru, who was now handing her son Kenji over to her husband Kenshin. Opposite them sat two of Misao's friends from the Times – Shiro, a photographer and Okon, who was Okina's editorial assistant.
"I think Misao-chan was just distracted with yesterday's interview," Okon revealed, flipping her long hair prettily over one shoulder.
Misao turned red. "What are you talking about?"
Now it was Shiro's turn to laugh. "Why are you denying it now? Yesterday, you were all 'Shiro, do we have a good file photo of Aoshi-sama? Shiro, please hurry up ang get one.' You should have heard her!"
"I did NOT call him Aoshi-sama!"
"Ah, but you certainly dropped the Shinomori-san somewhere along the way," Kaoru noted. "Pretty fast for one afternoon, I should say."
"Look who's talking! You were the one who was all over Kenshin the first day we met him in high school!" Misao shot back.
"Oro!" Kenshin said with a light blush on his cheeks. Kaoru opened her mouth to protest, but her husband quickly covered it with a kiss. "You have to admit, koiishi, you were something else even then."
Everyone else smiled at the display of affection. Misao was grinning, too, but still her good mood was tinged with that unshakable feeling that this sort of happiness was not meant for someone like her.
Aoshi. Misao hated to admit it, but the others were right. She had been thinking a little too much about the scientist ever since her interview with him. But how could she not? The man was an enigma. He was everything she was not – the steady silence to her incessant chatter, the ice to her fire. Yet he had met her on her terms yesterday, and challenged her in her own territory.
Plus, he had those eyes that seemed to take her measure, but didn't find her lacking.
Misao sighed. That was yesterday; he was just an assignment. Unless she decided to take up residence in the University, there was only the ghost of a chance that she would see him again. That was when she noticed her grandfather looking at her closely.
"You okay, Jiya?" Misao asked, using her special nickname for Okina. "You've been awfully quiet tonight. Not enough women here for your liking?"
Okina forced a laugh. "Excuse me, everyone, but I hope you won't mind if I take Misao-chan for a little walk around the block, will you?"
"As long as you don't mind if I finish all the food," Shiro replied. Everyone laughed at the thought, because Shiro had a lean build and was completely obsessed with keeping fit. As Misao excused herself to join Okina waiting in the hall, she heard the faint sounds of good-natured teasing.
"What's wrong, Jiya?" Misao demanded as she tried to keep up with Okina's longer strides. There was an elevator on her floor, but Okina had quickly headed for the stairs. Misao had no choice but to follow him seven flights down.
"How old are you now, Misao?" her grandfather asked instead. He looked at her with that strange sad look in his eyes, the same way he had regarded her all through dinner.
"Eighteen," she lied without missing a beat. But when she caught a glimpse of Okina's serious expression, she dropped the banter. "Twenty-two, why?"
Okina sighed. "There's no prolonging this, then."
Misao looked up at him, wrinkling her forehead at his cryptic remark. "Prolonging what? Jiya, you're starting to scare me. We're both reporters here; just give me the facts."
Okina stopped. They had reached the apartment lobby, and were standing in front of the building's entrance. A cool breeze wafted into the room since the door was wide open, and Misao could tell that he was still hesitating.
She reached out and shut the door. No escape now.
"I promised your father that I'd tell you this when you turned twenty-one," he confessed. "But I kept putting it off because I didn't know where to begin."
Misao's breath caught in her throat. Okina hadn't spoken about her father in a long time. "What is it?"
"Forgive me for not telling you sooner, Misao-chan," Okina said, placing his hands on her shoulders. Misao could see that his eyes were wet with unshed tears.
"I am not your grandfather."
And just like that, every truth she had ever known was shattered.
End of Chapter 3: Things Left Unsaid
More Notes: Not much romance – I'm saving them up for a rainy day. We'll get there soon.
