Two weeks went by and she was still avoiding him.
Ever since their heated and unexpected encounter in the hall outside his room, she'd been scarcely near him for more than a stretch of five minutes at a time.
Her usual lively chatter and vibrancy would mellow considerably whenever he walked into the room and she always seemed to make it a point to keep her eyes diverted from him to either the floor or some obscure spot on the wall furthest from him.
Or she'd simply sit quietly and stare at her hands that were now always buried in her lap.
She was no longer animated.
Lively.
Bubbly.
It's like the lively, vibrant person that was once Misao had now been replaced with a demure, quiet and mysterious woman that kept everything bottled up inside.
It was painful.
Infuriating.
He couldn't stand it.
His patience was wearing thin—very quickly.
He was losing control.
Every time she would walk into the room, his azure eyes would dart towards her and fixate on her—like they were begging her to look at him, give him some indication that she still acknowledged him.
But every time his eyes found her and stared—dared or even threatened her with a glare, her gaze never met his. Not even once.
Her green eyes steered safely—and purposely—away from him. And she never ventured near him.
Aoshi hated to admit it; it wounded his pride and gave him a sense of disgust and revulsion at his own weakness…
But he was going mad.
Mad with impatience.
Mad with curiosity.
Mad with rejection.
Mad with longing.
Dear God in all the heavens, he was losing his sanity, his self-control; all his carefully built walls of self-preservation and dignity were crumbling down; they had been since that morning she'd touched him.
It had been such a small, simple touch too; barely even there—just the light pressure of her small hand as it pressed against the center of his chest.
But that was all it had taken. And he was now a man weak and in dire need. To others, he may have appeared strong and immovable outwardly.
But inwardly, he was on his knees at the mercy of the woman he'd fought so hard to keep at arm's length and now she was the only one who could rid him of his pain and suffering—she consumed him now. Heart, mind and soul and now his body was crying out for same all-consuming redemption.
But alas, she had kept away from him. Completely away and it wouldn't be long before—if she continued to avoid him—Aoshi would completely lose control and he knew at that moment, his weakness would be too great; he'd cave and fall prostrate at Misao's feet; she would be free to do whatever she wished with him.
Oh this couldn't be happening! If he wasn't careful; one slip up, one misstep and he'd be—
His maddening mental tirade was brought to a crashing halt when he heard footsteps climbing the stairs to the temple engawa.
At first, his heart soared—thinking of course that it was Misao coming with his usual afternoon tea. But then his hopes were dashed to pieces when he turned and found none other than Okon shuffling softly towards him with a tray of tea in her hands.
His azure eyes hardened. His shoulders squared.
"Okon. What is this?" his cold, calculating voice uttered curtly.
Okon looked up to find Aoshi's ice blue eyes piercing through her. His frame was ridged; though he knelt before the shrine in his usual meditative pose, his demeanor spoke of anything but calm serenity.
She gulped. "Why this is your tea, Aoshi-sama…I know you usually have it around this time and I thought—"
"Where. Is. Misao. She is always the one who brings the tea. I trust she hasn't gotten herself into any trouble."
Okon gulped again. She was no fool; she had noticed the growing tension between Aoshi and Misao and her and Omasu had come to the conclusion that something monumental had transpired between the two and it must have been earth-shaking because now, there was barely a breath uttered between the two for two weeks straight. "I'm sorry, Aoshi-sama…but you see…Misao has—well she insisted she had training today—and well I told her that it wouldn't take her very long to bring it but—b-but she…she made it evident that she had no—intention of doing so."
That was the final straw.
Aoshi snapped.
Without another word, he stood to his feet turned away from Okon and marched out of the temple and down the pathway to the Aoiya.
Whatever had Misao avoiding him so ardently was of no further merit and Aoshi Shinomori was going to put a stop to it…now.