Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and its characters belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki. The only thing in here that's mine is the story. Now let me tell you all about it…
Without Words
Chapter 8- Breathing
Some lines were never meant to be crossed.
Aoshi was well aware of that, having grown up distant, withdrawn. He knew all about privacy. He knew all about personal space. But this time, he could not resist overstepping the bounds of convention. "What would you want at the police station?"
"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," Misao replied firmly. Then, changing the subject, she complained, "We could have stayed a few more minutes at Omasu's, you know."
He barely glanced at her, choosing to keep his eyes on the road than on distractions of the spitfire kind in a tight blue shirt. "Why, did we forget anything?"
"I was just thinking you might want to have that cleaned," she said, gesturing to the ruined trenchcoat Aoshi had draped across the backseat. He snuck a peek at her just in time to see her nose wrinkle at the smell.
"That's what happens when little girls get in between fights of grown men," he remarked.
Misao bristled. "Little girl? Who are you calling a little girl? Besides, what sane person wouldn't interfere when they see a psychopathic professor attacking their new neighbor? Look, Aoshi, I want answers. What could be so dangerous about what I wrote? And what did you mean when you said Soujirou was a warning? He looked like he wouldn't harm a fruit fly and there you were going all ballistic on him."
"Seta Soujirou is the best assassin in the Juppongatana," Aoshi said, almost casually. "He's probably killed more people than you've ever interviewed. The next time we meet, I'll tell him that you were quite concerned with his well-being. I'm sure he's as concerned about yours, too."
His words seem to strike a chord. Misao fell silent, her hand flying unconsciously to her throat. Maybe she was thinking of the narrow escape she just had. Or maybe she was imagining the different ways she would have died by Seta's hand. But something he said tugged at Aoshi's thoughts. Something about how if Seta had wanted Misao dead, he would have killed her sooner. What did he want with the journalist? Even now, Aoshi wasn't sure why Misao showed up in Kyoto in the first place. All he knew was that she was here, and her life was in danger because of him.
"Give me one good reason why I should trust you," she challenged. "You almost killed me two days ago."
She just had to bring that up.
"I didn't save you to watch you get yourself killed first chance you got," he snapped back, conveniently reminding her that he was sticking his neck out for her this time. He calmed himself before continuing. "You know I left the Juppongatana a long time ago. But there were certain things that bound me to them. I came back to Kyoto to completely cut those ties, for a price. Only now, your article has led them to believe that I may have betrayed them," he explained.
"You're not being very specific here," Misao said sarcastically. When Aoshi didn't respond, she tried a more serious tact. "But I didn't out anything there that wasn't true. I had my notes, my interview with you, my talk with the dean – they all check out, I swear. Meaning…" She didn't finish her sentence.
Aoshi knew what she was getting at. She thought she had all the facts. And if she had all the facts, then Aoshi was the one who was lying, that he really did betray the Juppongatana. But he didn't want to tell her all the details. She didn't have to know.
He stopped the car and looked at her.
"Trust me when I say that your life is in danger. For your sake, and mine," he said. The words came so easily to him now. "But also trust that I'll keep you safe no matter what. I'll stay with you until this whole thing blows over. I won't let anything happen to you. But I need you to trust me."
Her face was so near, her eyes a startling shade of blue. "Why are you doing this?" she murmured.
Aoshi didn't answer. Couldn't.
Because he didn't know either.
***
The officer Misao met by the door pointed her to Captain Saitou Hajime's office. Misao glanced outside, trying to guess where Aoshi had parked. He didn't want to come with her, saying that she was perfectly safe inside a police department. She told him that she might take a while, but that didn't seem to bother him. In a way, Misao was glad that he had stayed behind. This was her business, and she didn't want him horning in. She took a deep breath and adjusted her collar. She hoped that she looked decent enough to meet Kyoto's finest on such short notice.
Turns out, she shouldn't have bothered.
The man behind the desk was lean and dangerous, looking her over through narrowed eyes that reminded Misao of a wolf eyeing his prey. A cigarette stick hung from the corner of his mouth. He gestured towards a pile of folders sitting above a filing cabinet. "Make yourself useful and bring those folders here."
"Me?" Misao asked in surprise, her mouth falling slightly open.
His eyes flashed gold. "Yes, you. Now stop looking like a shocked weasel and give them to me."
Misao dutifully closed her mouth and was already halfway to his desk with the folders when the full impact of his words hit her. "Wait a minute. Who are you calling a weasel? My name's --"
"Makimachi Misao, I know," Captain Saitou interrupted. "Himura told me that you'll be dropping by. Said I should help you." He took a long drag of his cigarette and looked directly into her eyes. "I don't do this often but Himura's helped me out before so… what do you want?"
She took out her father's file from her backpack and handed it to Captain Saitou. "I'm interested in tracking down a Sadojima Hoji, who handled the murder case of Hideki Ichitaka."
He waved her request away. "Hoji's retired. He doesn't want to be bothered. Besides, that information's classified." Captain Saitou cocked one eyebrow at her. "Hideki Ichitaka. The journalist? That was found as involuntary manslaughter, not a murder. You don't need Hoji or the files to know that."
Misao stood her ground. "He was my father."
Captain Saitou stood up. "What are you really looking for, girl? Revenge? Retribution? He's dead. There's nothing more you need to know that isn't already in your files. Go home and forget about it."
"My reasons are my own, Captain. This is all I have left," she told him.
He measured her with a careful look. "Wait here." He strode out of the door, leaving Misao standing there with her knees slightly shaking. To be this close to the truth – her truth – was unlike anything she had felt before.
Captain Saitou came back with a thin folder and handed it to her. "Be quick about it."
Misao opened the folder to a black and white photo of a man lying face up on the ground. His eyes were wide open, and they seemed to be his only features that weren't covered with blood. One cheek was hollowed out by a gunshot wound. Another hole was found in the middle of his forehead. His mouth was left open, a silent cry. This had been Makimachi Ichiro.
In the numbness that followed, Misao barely recognized her own voice. "And the trace on the murder weapon yielded nothing?"
The police officer didn't bother to answer.
But the file in her hands just confirmed what she had read from Omasu's research the night before. With trembling fingers, Misao wrote down all the information the file revealed. The model of the gun used. The exact address where the body was found. The last person to see her father alive. And finally –
"I need a contact number and an address for Sadojima Hoji," she said, turning to Captain Saitou.
He took a puff from his cigarette. "Not possible. That's not our policy." He nodded towards the door. "Take what you have and leave, girl. The case is closed. Your father's gone. There is no story here."
Misao placed the file on his desk then took a deep breath. "I want you to reopen the case," she demanded hotly.
Captain Saitou gave a short laugh. "On what grounds? You have no new evidence, weasel-girl. Don't waste our time."
"But if I find evidence, you will reopen it?" she pursued. "Do I have your word on that?"
"You're in over your head if you think you can find anything more about your father's death that isn't already there," he argued.
"Do I have your word on that?" she repeated, as if not hearing a word he had just said.
Captain Saitou paused. Then he plucked the cigarette from his lips and dashed it on his desk. "Come back when you find it, then we'll see."
Misao was breathing heavily. She knew this was all the concession she was going to get from Captain Saitou. She nodded slowly, "Arigatou, Captain."
He went back to his desk. "Go," he said, not bothering to look at her.
She did. She didn't look back.
***
He caught sight of her the moment she stepped out of the building. Aoshi pulled away from the curb and met her at the entrance. As he approached, he could see the different emotions building up inside Misao. He threw the door open.
"Where to now?" he asked.
But she didn't reply. When he cast her a glance, her shoulders started shaking. Her hands clenched and unclenched on her lap. A sob burst from her lips, a pained sound that tore at his soul. This was the cry of someone who has come to grips with her largest sorrow, her deepest loss.
When Makimachi Misao walked into his life, Aoshi thought that she was all innocence and wide-eyed ideals. She had no place in the cold world he had known. Yet in these past few days, he had seen her quick brilliance, her ready compassion, her seemingly endless optimism. And no one – especially her – deserved to cry with such pain.
Then without even thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her firmly on the lips. He felt the salty taste of her tears for a moment, then he withdrew. It was just a kiss, he told himself. A comfort kiss. A healing kiss.
But some lines were never meant to be crossed.
End of Chapter 8 - Breathing
Author's Notes: I sincerely thank everyone who has read and reviewed my fic. I was so happy to reach 100 reviews with my first seven chapters, and it's truly meant a lot when people share their opinions with me – on my plot, on my characterization, on my writing style. Getting that many reviews was never my goal, but reaching it, I can't deny how rewarding it feels. Arigatou gozaimasu.
