"This isn't like you," Aoshi growled; his voice kept barely in check. His hands gripped his knees intermittently, tensing and releasing. He stared hard at the smooth tatami mats he knelt upon, struggling not to look at her. An oil lantern burned softly and lit the room in a soft glow of paper walls against the night. She knelt near the open window, beside the painted screen.
"I had to leave," she whispered. Her russet obi fluttered in the breeze that crept through the room. For the first time since they returned to their host's home, Aoshi glanced at the young woman. She looked stunning in the kimono that he knew once belonged to her mother years ago. He remembered the distinct pattern of watery silk along the hem line.
"You belong at the Aoiya, Misao. It is your duty to our clan and to me." Her eyes swung up at him.
"You've been gone for almost a year. I had to find you, you don't understand what was happening," she cried harshly. "You're not even our proper leader anymore," she spat. Aoshi sat stunned for a moment before he rose smoothly onto feet and strode across the bare room to her. She glared defiantly up at him.
His gloved hand clenched and released, clenched and released, but finally relaxed and grazed the soft side of her hair. She sighed and rested her head against his leg, looking down at her little hands.
"I missed you," she said. Aoshi didn't respond for a moment. He left her with a final stroke of her smooth cheek and moved across the room with more hesitation than Misao had ever seen in her leader. He opened a hidden closet and gathered the clumsy bedding into his arms. Misao rose to help him and together they made the bed for the night. Her hands shook as they unfolded they heavy futon blanket.
The day had been chilly, though the night air coming into the room was much colder, but both Aoshi and Misao enjoyed the fresh air. But the day had been a shock. Aoshi had moved through the market purposefully, like a cat on the prowl. The common people who had happened to notice him took him a serious and dangerous man with an intent purpose. But when Misao first saw him over her shoulder, she realized he was nearly unhinged from his erratic motions through the street. Upon seeing him, she knew he had already caught her, but she hid behind Kenshin in a last moment of defense.
"Get away from her, Himura. She's not yours," Aoshi had barked across the square. People quickly cleared the area. He had leaped forward in a few quick strides and had grabbed Misao's arm and swung his kodachi in a cleaving arc at Kenshin, which the small man had to dash out of the way without his usual elegance. In the back of Aoshi's mind, he had noticed Misao's unusual kimono and the simple, but beautiful lacquered comb set in her dark hair. He had dragged her closer into the protection of his chest and shoulders.
"Kenshin isn't the one you should be worried about," Misao whispered as Aoshi's body brushed just behind her in the chill of the bedroom. His hands slowly undid the elaborate knotted bow of her obi. With long, smooth motions he undid each fold and laid it carefully against his arms.
"He has no right to you," Aoshi answered. The lantern sputtered.
"Aoshi, there were men who wanted me back in Kyoto. I've had several marriage proposals," Misao finally blurted. Her narrow shoulders sunk. Aoshi's hands stopped except to crush the silk in his grasp.
"Who were they."
"It doesn't matter, I turned them down, but it wouldn't stop. Why weren't you there?" Aoshi spun her around and she crumpled onto the bed in a mess of silk.
"You had no right to leave the Aoiya, that's the only place I know you're safe."
"I wasn't safe there!"
"You should have waited for me!"
"I had no idea when you would come back! When were you planning on it? Another year?"
Aoshi sunk to the floor and pulled the kimono away from her bare shoulders. "You are part of this clan. You are ninja. I am you leader. You must do as a I say because I am the strongest. I know what's best for you," he stated firmly. All the while many ears listened in to their conversation through the thin paper and wood walls.
"I can't believe they're going to sleep together," Yahiko whispered. "They're not even married."
"He's coming on a little strong," Sano agreed. Aoshi heard these eavesdroppers, but chose to ignore them. He silently pulled the long kimono off Misao's thin frame and hung it on the bamboo rods in the corner. She shivered in the breeze and clung to herself, lost in the folds of the futon. Aoshi shrugged out of his trench coat and divested himself of his clothes. He blew out the lamp and slipped into bed, cradling Misao's smooth back against his broad chest.
"I have every right," he whispered.
"I know you do," she answered, twisting in his arms. She pressed her body and her lips against his own. Aoshi found, as always with his young woman, he was never entirely in control.