Brutal Passions
By: Demon Tsunami
A/N: This last month was my 21st birthday month, me and my many beers apologize for the delay *hiccup*. In other news: People are threatening me for not posting quickly enough… I guess this means my story's not totally horrible?
Warning: If you're too young, too prude, or too sensitive to read the following violence, adult language, sex, yada yada *insert smart ass remark* yada yada…. Get out of my story.
Chapter Five: The Last Remnant of Me
"They've gouged out my soul
Devoured my heart
When I think I've paid the toll
It was just the start"
"Watching
me; Wanting me;
I can feel you pull me down
Saving me;
Raping me;
Watching me...
I won't let you pull me down…"
–Evanescence "Haunted"
She was cold.
It wasn't a physical sensation; the temperature in the room was actually quite warm, bordering on too hot.
Naked, she seemed to constantly feel eyes devouring her scarred skin, their greedy depths glistening with promises of pain and pleasure, always preferring the former over the latter. Her young body was already worn, used relentlessly by the men who held her captive. She'd been a slave girl since age fourteen, and her youth and innocence was striped from her without regard, leaving her a hallow pit in her soul. It broke a piece of her, crushing it forever. Her dreams, her passion, her will to survive, all followed her innocence's demise too quickly.
Her latest master, Shinto, was perhaps the kindest of the men who'd claimed her, though such a term as 'kindness' was relative in this dark cruel place, indifference may be more apt a description. In any case, he had not spared her from his cousin. A man she and her fellow slave girls feared above all. They had only one name for him, though it was never uttered aloud amidst their masters, they called him Murderer.
Once you were under his attentions; you were as good as dead.
Honestly, she wished herself dead already.
If only it would spare her the pain.
Alastair's securing her from Shinto was hardly an effort, the stoic silver eyed man tended to discard the slaves Alastair had 'borrowed' from him in any case. With cold grey eyes Shinto informed the shaking and crying slave girl of her new master, stern and unforgiving of her show of reluctance, he told her with cutting certainty that it was no more then she deserved. Going on to say she should be honored to have such a man as a master, the girl's haunted stare clearly conveyed what she knew of such luck.
Alastair was irate at her begging for Shinto's reprieve, scowling in fury as she sobbed her pleas, a rare show of emotion for a veteran slave girl as herself. It seemed like she'd lived this life forever, but it'd only been two years, although most didn't make it past four years, either discarded because they'd been too roughly used, or dead. Dragging her from his cousin's office by her leather collar, he sneered downward at her tear trekked features.
"I was going to afford you rest, but for that little display I think I shall have want of you tonight," He promised her, eyes flinty with disapproval. She nodded meekly.
Nodding to himself, he brought the girl to his chambers, removing her chains and plugs and replacing them with flesh and marks of his sadistic amusements. He used her body harshly, spending his aggravation out on her youthful flesh. Pounding into her painfully, whispering threats in her ear as he hurt her, smirking at her distress.
No need to be discerning now that she belonged solely to him, he struck at her mercilessly as he pounded into her, using her multiple times, until she could no longer manage to continue. Practically passing out from exhaustion, her skin well bruised and bleeding, she couldn't summon the meager energy to follow his relentless demands. At this revelation he grew furious, tying her so that she was forced to remain standing beside his bed, secured with rough rope, dangling like hung meat.
"You will never repeat that defiance again," he gritted, slapping her face so that it jerked to the side, a red print rising on the smooth flesh, "I shall be able to have use of you until I say we are done." He informed her, eyes stormy jade with his disapproval.
Turning from her he stormed out, leaving her too tired body suspending standing, unable to find comfort in her ties, if she slumped they bit harshly into her raw skin, but standing required more energy then she could muster. At his absence she let tears flow down her cheeks, unchecked. She'd been here for two years, and it was true what they said, none was crueler then Alastair.
She repeated the only thing that kept her sane for the past years of imprisonment, her mantra that gave her strength. "I am Misao Makimachi," a breathy hiccup, "I feel no pain…" Tears pushed hot sticky trails down her flushed skin. Some of the other girls had forgotten their names, others simply forgot what it was to be anything other than property, and she vowed to never be one of them.
"My name is Misao Makimachi," stronger now, "and I feel no pain," she murmured to herself repeatedly, using the words to remind herself she was more than flesh, more than an open orifice or willing body, more than a slave girl, had once been a human being with a name, a purpose.
She had been a brazenly fierce girl, though one could hardly tell now, and she would hold onto that memory, with a desperately tenacious grip, refusing to let it go. It was the only thing they had yet to strip her off. The last sense of self not demoralized and tarnished, torn from her in brutal force. The only shred of self awareness that bound her to her sanity, kept her alive inside in this terrible place of perversion and sadistic amusements.
"I AM MISAO!" She shrieked to the empty room, sobbing as she slumped in her rope ties, in a choked whisper she added desperately, forlornly, "and I feel no pain…"
-*-
Aoshi slipped through the high class tea house without a single eye catching his presence, a feat to be sure with so many curious high class cliental sizing up their rivals and peers with keen evaluation, careful to notice every personage lest they miss an opportunity for money gain or flattery. None saw the solitary gentlemen slipping against the crimson and gold walls, nor witnessed as he eased through the paper door to the private tea rooms. Even dressed in white, handsome as he was, not one eye turned, such was the power of Aoshi Shinomori, shadow assassin and second only to Battousai in power.
Katsura was already waiting, sipping tea from an expensive china cup; the calm air of authority was practically dripping from the cunning politician. He had a presence, something that drew the eye, though one couldn't exactly put a finger on it. Although he was not one of their people, Katsura had been aware of their kind's special circumstances for a decade or more, as he was one of the few men to clash blades with Kenshin and survive. The only, actually, to Aoshi's knowledge.
"Shinomori," Katsura bowed, "Forgive me for not standing to greet you, my leg was damaged while traveling." Aoshi nodded, hearing the lie in the man's voice but not digging further into the matter. Katsura often lied, purposely, as if he were testing the assassin's abilities; he saw no need to play his game.
He seated himself on an adjacent mat, nodding politely to the woman who poured his tea.
"Shall we wait?" Katsura asked, sipping the tea with forced calm. Aoshi stifled any reaction he might have, as he realized the powerful man was nervous.
"Hai, you know him," Aoshi stated slowly, "He was adamant on not being seen."
"If only we all shared your gift," Katsura pointed out with a dry smile. He glanced up as a long shadow fell across the paper door. In strode a simply dressed man, his red hair hidden beneath his straw hat, which was pulled low to obscure his features, he sat without word, nodding to Katsura.
"Ah, excellent timing," Katsura waited as Himura was also served tea, seemingly impatient at the social requirements this meeting must upkeep to avoid suspicion. Once the woman finished he dismissed her, adding in a whisper to the men that she could be trusted to watch the door and keep prying ears away.
"Now, firstly, Takeo was a failure," Katsura confided in a barely audible tone, as an afterthought he added, "To an extent, of course."
"I saw him to him myself, he was dead," Battousai growled. The somber brown eyed man across from the assassin nodded, frowning slightly.
"Indeed, he is dead," he acknowledged, "but he didn't serve his purpose, these men are not responding with their usual methods." Flashing amber shot to meet the man's stare, and he continued, "Their standard response to these matters has always been to summon a large amount armed forces, police and mercenary alike, to swarm the town in an attempt to flush out the culprit, occasionally there is even a award offered to tempt the towns people into giving the criminal away." He paused, sipping his tea.
"This time," he held out his hand, nothing lay in his palm, "no men, no police, no foreign assassins… They act as if we have done nothing."
"Suspicious," Aoshi commented. Himura nodded.
"Especially when they have always met force with force," Battousai frowned, contemplating, "Perhaps they are already aware of us?"
"I would've thought as much as well, expect for this…" Katsura pulled from behind him a large scroll of parchment, "These have been showing up everywhere, and although I assume it is a trap, it doesn't seem to be directed towards the culprit responsible for their trainer's death. To be blunt, it's mostly gibberish."
Amber eyes digested the proffered parchment in rapid assessment.
"Who is this Yahiko?" Battousai asked, rescanning the parchment with keen eyes for clues to the significance of that name. Katsura smiled with a blank sort of mirth.
"I had hoped you would know, none of my sources can place the name," Katsura sipped the tea, peering over the cup's rim, "His execution is running the rumor mill at top priority, obviously, this Yahiko is of some value to someone."
"There was a boy," Kenshin's uncharacteristic wince drew both men's stares, "A slave, he witnessed the assassination, I had hoped…" His hand fisted in restrained self disgust, mouth tightening perceptibly, "I am sorry Kogoro, I may have jeopardized everything with my carelessness."
"Hmmm… Indeed," Katsura pondered this for a moment, "Perhaps that is why…." A small smile drew across his lips, "Alastair has come into town, practically untouchable as usual with his personal guards, but he is said to be attending the execution personally."
"A wise time to strike," Aoshi commented.
"No," Battousai countered swiftly, "He is expecting it."
"That is the curiosity. I would wager you are yet unknown to them, if it was witnessed that the great pirate captain Battousai had taken a sudden interest in assassinating slave traders, word would've gotten around, regardless of their intentions," His smile was dry, depreciating. "It does seem to be a trap, but the question remains, for whom?"
A short pause of contemplation passed, where the man sat in a thick thoughtful silence.
"Alastair is the key," Katsura continued musing aloud, "Shinto is the brains, but Alastair is their figure head, the fangs of the snake. Kill him and you will undo much of their influence, and yet, Kenshin is correct, it seems they anticipate this very attempt, he has not been seen without his guard in public, they are indeed being very cautious."
"I heard no news of this last night," Aoshi pointed out, perplexed.
"He arrived this morning, these," he gestured to the parchment, "were posted across town before dawn."
"What do you purpose?" Battousai asked, regarding the stoic man with a familiar sort of wariness. Katsura had managed to gain his respect and loyalty, not an easy feat, but no person, male or female, had his trust. He had shred that weakness long ago, what remained in its' stead was the bitter flavor of betrayal and death.
"He travels with a woman, a slave," Katsura informed them, "my sources tell me she is a new acquisition from his cousin Shinto; perhaps she can be persuaded to assist us. Having someone so close to both would be extremely beneficial." He stapled his fingers, staring meaningfully at Aoshi's expressionless profile.
"You wish me to persuade her?" The stoic's mans shock was only apparent to those who knew him.
"As you alone would have a chance at entering and leaving undetected, as well as knowing a lie instantly, it seems sound," Katsura pointed out. "Though, I do realize that given your circumstances, meeting this woman might be unpleasant. I heard of Mora." Katsura's expression clearly conveyed his compassion towards the man's loss, while still demanding an answer. Mora had been used in such a fashion before he'd found her, but to avenge his deceased wife, Aoshi found he was willing to do almost anything.
"Nay, I'll do it," Aoshi stated, "When put that way, it only seems sensible that I am the one to go." At the time he didn't understand the meaning of Katsura's hesitance, he saw no issue with meeting with this slave girl, if it would bring justice to Mora's murderers, he would do so willingly, without reserve. Later, he would regret such an impulsive act.
"And what of me?" Himura asked, eyeing the somber Japanese man from across the low tea table.
"Attend the execution, if you see an opportunity, seize it," Katsura ordered, "We simply can't afford to miss this chance, and although it does precede my originally intended time frame, it is highly probable that if we do not strike now the next opportunity might not be so accommodating. As it is, it seems they have another goal distracting them at the moment, and even simply observing this…man," he frowned at the word 'man', as if it were an unsuitable description. "Will be to our benefit in the long run."
"In any case, perhaps you will be able to discover the significance of this Yahiko, and the curious meaning of this," He handed the parchment to the captain, who accepted it and place it inside his small carrying bag. "I wish my sources could be of more help, but it is exceedingly difficult to gain entrance to their inner circle. Alastair is an impulsive showman, but his cousin Shinto is gifted with an irritatingly cunning intellect, he has made certain to keep imposters and would-be thwarters out."
"Shinto," amber eyes narrowed to feral slit, shadowed in the brim of the straw hat, "he was the man Tomoe spoke of."
"Yes, it seems Shinto has been the force behind your people's fate," Katsura eyed the angered red head, "he alone will know what has become of them, however, no one has yet been able to get close to the man. He is a well known reclusive; any information to be gained from Alastair's slave girl on him would be immeasurably valuable."
"She will talk," Aoshi promised his leader, "I will make sure of it." Nodding, Battousai settled back to a more relaxed stance, trying to dispel the fury that arose at the mention of his people's eradication and capture.
"Now, to better matters," Smiling softly Katsura snapped his fingers and the woman from before reappeared through the paper door, now carrying a heavily laden silver tray in her hands, "Cake, gentlemen?"
*-*MEANWHILE*-*
The room was dark, but she knew the feel of her lover's body in the meekest of lights. Long, painted nails traced the curves of his stomach, tracing the skin there with reverence. The man in question stirred, capturing her exploring hand in a reprimanding grip. Large, thickly lashed eyes, as deep and colorless as ink, watched his stern profile in the rising sun.
"Something troubles you," she murmured, lethargically settling her toned and supple body across his own with a glimmer of mischief in her consuming stare. Shinto frowned, his silver eyes staring at the ceiling thoughtfully.
"My idiot cousin," he sighed, "I grow tired of his fruitless ventures, he risks so much, and gains so little." The woman smirked, a pull of her full lips, and brushed his golden hair from his regal brow in affection.
"He is a useful tool, our enemies concentrate on him," she murmured appealingly, a soft frown tugged at her features, "However, I must admit, giving him one of them was truly not well thought through." He stiffened at her reprimand, eyes cloudy grey, stormy with her daring.
"Ridiculous," he insisted, "All who opposed us have been efficiently wiped clean; courtesy of your cunning, my dear." He reminded her stubbornly, "One worthless brat will not reveal us, besides, there is no one left to reveal ourselves to." He brushed her ebony locks through his fingers, contemplating something in his heated stare.
"Save for their king," she reprimanded curtly, fire brewing in her lava rock stare; a rage twisted her heart so deeply madness shown in her usually cold gaze. He wound her hair around his fist tugging her so that their faces met with mere inches between.
"Ah yes, love, you still bare your grudge against the poor bastard," he smirked, caressing her lips with his own, "Fear not, I am fairly certain I know where to find your husband's murderer, and for you, darling, I will see that he suffers most grievously before I end his pitiful existence. Then we alone will possess his people's talents, and our empire will emerge, and there will be no need for this charade."
"And how," she demanded with venom, "do you intend to do this?"
His smile was mysterious, condescending, "That, is a matter I shall not divulge, but do not look so miffed, sweet, in due time you will have your revenge."
"And you your power," she finished knowingly. He grinned, a rare emotion for the stoic man, eyes alit with greedy anticipation.
-*-MEANWHILE-*-
Her face was flushed, her body felt heavy and pliant, but her mind was a torrent of chaos. He'd…he'd…she swallowed, hard. She'd almost let him…. Danu…what did I almost let him do? She sunk back into the lumpy futon, feeling the strange tension ebb away from her limbs. It had felt for a moment as if lava were pooling in her abdomen, clenching heat straight to her center and down to her… She flushed, turning scarlet at the memories of his touch in a place on her body even her vile ex-fiancé had never ventured. But he'd made it feel good.
She shook her head, sitting up with the sickening jolt of reality that came crashing down on her musings. No it DID NOT feel good! She sternly reminded herself. He'd taken advantage of her, striped her dress off without her consent and began to touch her in ways she would certainly never have condoned. Kaoru wasn't sure what the vile captain thought, but she was not a wanton harlot, she would not be taking company into her bed until she married, if she married. At this point in time her thoughts were hardly on men and marriage in any case, and even if they were, she would never consider Battousai as a possible suitor.
She snorted in mirth at the image of a man like the pirate captain actually courting anyone, him asking permission for anything was not an image she could even envision, as ludicrously out of character as it was. Shaking off the visual she began rising and determinedly going about taking off the decadent silken kimono. As if a man like that would court me in any case, she rolled her eyes, he was only looking for an easy lay, she bristled at the truth of it, and he would NOT find it here. She neatly tucked the silk kimono back into the closet, noticing with gratitude that someone had been kind and taken the liberty of washing the black tunic and breeches. They no longer smelled of fish and salt, but of water and floral soap, which she inhaled in appreciation before slipping into the boyish garb.
Looking into the standing and tarnished mirror, she fingered her mussed hair, frowning at the murky image of a pale thin-looking youth. Without her bindings her chest portrayed through the shirt, and miffed, she supposed it had gotten bigger then she recalled it being. She tilted her head, trying to recall if this was a usual development. She shrugged, grabbing the bindings and dismissing it as unimportant. She knew little of what to expect as a woman, save what she'd heard the women in town gossip about.
Her mother had died when she was very young, and her father had fallen into ill luck and foul spirits when she was only ten. Most of what she knew about her body, and what occurred between a woman and man, had strangely come from Sanosuke, who always flushed when asked, but at least had aided her when at age twelve she believed she was bleeding to death. Upon discovering she could expect the same at least once a moon cycle she'd been relieved, her father would have never paid for her to see a doctor. It was an embarrassing memory, but she recalled fondly her earlier years, though they too were filled with struggle, remembering the laughter and camaraderie she, Yahiko, and occasionally Sano had shared before the slave traders, and her fiancé, had brought her world crashing down on her head.
She was still stuck in reflection as she descended the narrow servant stairwell, entering the warm kitchen in a half daze. Sanosuke had returned it seemed, and was making short work of pestering the Madame. Once fully inside the kitchen she halted for a brief instant, noting the various curious sets of eyes upon her, not least of which was the Madame's indiscernible regard, today she was dressed in a green and black kimono, jade dragons swirled across the lavish obsidian fabric. Her face was yet to be painted, and it took some of the surreal severity from her appearance, and also revealed that she was a natural beauty, still as awe inspiring as the first time Kaoru had glimpsed her.
At the girl's stare, Megumi smiled slowly, "Did you sleep well?" Aware of the many ears she kept to the pleasantries, although she was more than a bit curious about the girl. She noted with a sort of perplexed mirth that the young woman was once again cross dressing, a peculiar past time to be sure.
"Horribly," Kaoru answered honestly without thought, and then blushed at her own forwardness. The Madame simply laughed, it was a nice sound.
"I see," Megumi pointed to the breakfast laid out, "Help yourself then, a good meal should dispel some of your trying night." Kaoru nodded gratefully, selecting a plate of food and joining the other early risers. Many of the women wouldn't rise until noon or after, seeing as they worked the entire night, those who didn't have customers the night before were required to wake early and help with chores.
Kaoru selected a seat across from a brunette, digging into her meal and avoiding the stares of the women who also occupied the table. Sanosuke lingered, although she resolutely ignored him, and he began bantering with a frigid Megumi, her one line responses not dispelling his flirtatious attitude.
"I imagine you didn't sleep well," the brunette seated across from Kaoru quipped in a low voice, her jaded brown eyes raking the slim girl across from her. "Not with the capp'in and his first mate starin' at ye like that."
She flipped a curtain of inky black hair, her chocolate eyes predatory and sharp, like those of a hungry wolf. A buxom beauty, the same who had attempted to grace the captain with her company the night before, she instantly disliked the untried and youthful woman she'd seen Sano bring in, and was making short work of letting Kaoru know it. The brunette, called Bella, was well known amongst the other women as a trouble maker, but Kaoru remained sadly unaware of this, only sensing the pretty woman's hostility through her accented speech.
"Really?" another occupant asked, seemingly impressed. She was rounder then the first, more simple in appearance, with watery beige eyes. Kaoru felt her stomach flip flop the meager amount of food she'd managed to eat, suddenly loosing appetite.
"It's not like that," She insisted, a hot red flush stealing across her cheeks. The two other women exchanged knowing glances across the table.
"I saw it me self," Bella insisted with a smirk, "first Aoshi-sama kisses 'er hand like she's a right lady," she continued, a wicked grin on her lips at the discomfort she was causing the other girl.
"No," the second gasped, jaw slack.
"Yep, n' then she got right mouthy wit the capp'in," Bella nodded smugly, crossing her arms, "He went n' requested her special, and she turned him down in front of everybody."
"That was you?" The second questioned, realization dawning as she took a closer look at the girl.
Kaoru was sitting in frozen silence, her mind a spinning pot of anger at the woman's blatant insinuations. Was she implying that Kaoru was loose? Her temper boiled at the thought, her anger at the captain had not subsided, and the catty woman was unknowingly directing the unspent ire towards herself with her continued verbal attacks.
"What're they talking 'bout?" Sano enquired, sitting in a chair next to Kaoru and glancing between the three women in rapt interest. Kaoru slumped more into herself if possible.
"Nothing," Kaoru muttered. . The brunette's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, noting that she'd captured the attention of everyone in the room she dropped her finale.
"Oh, nothing much Sano," the older girl cooed suggestively, obviously insinuating how familiar she was with the spiky haired man, "just a bit o' gossip really. Aft'r all, I know I wasn' the only one ta see the capp'in leavin' her room," she winked in mock conspiracy towards the shell shocked and fuming girl, "first thing n' the mornin' n' all." She grinned, finished, waiting for her words to have the desired impact.
A barely touched tray of food splattered over the brunettes' smug features, soup and bread dousing the girl in broth and crumbs, Bella shrieked, sputtering as she stood. Shocked, wringing out her hair and dress she glared daggers at the now standing Kaoru who was red faced and trembling with her own anger.
"YOU don't know anything!" Kaoru gritted, blue eyes flashing with barely constrained panic and hurt, trying desperately to cling to her rage. As far as she was concerned, that last remark had been a direct attack on her pride and reputation. Sanosuke gaped, mouth slack as he warily watched the agitated girls exchange heated glares.
"Wow," he commented, drawing Kaoru's stare.
"This would've never happened if you were here last night!" she snapped with venom at the still stunned Sano, her voice trembling with unshed tears.
She stormed from the kitchen, striding into the main room just as a few traitorous salty drops trekked her flushed cheeks. Behind her she could hear the irate squeals of the offended woman, cursing her and the soup that she'd used as a weapon. I don't care, she told herself, I hate this place, I hate it all.
Megumi took one look at her broth drenched charge, to the shocked and upset Sano, and did what she did best, she took charge. She had Persephone assist Bella upstairs to clean up the soup, ordering Sano to do the same to the floors. At his protest she shot him a look that made the man gulp, and strode with authority out of the kitchen and towards the distressed girl.
She found the troubled youth sitting on one of the sofas, staring blankly, tears glistening in her large sea blue eyes. The Madame had comforted more women then she could count, had seen the many ugly faces of abuse and defeat, had witnessed her fair share of horrors and come out stronger for them. There was something fragile about this girl, something kind and spirited, an innocence that made Megumi feel all that much more weary, tired, and old. Still, it was a drawing aura, like a candle flame in the dark, pulling the eye; it was easy to see how she had caught the captain's attention. They were almost pure opposites.
The captain drew the eye, but it was a darker pull, a dangerous temptation, this girl shown with light, it was obvious to see by spending but a moment in her company, and had no doubt been the trigger for Bella's jealousies. That and the fact that Kaoru had drawn Kenshin's eyes from Bella the night before, jealousy was a hard master in a brothel, where each woman fought and scraped for what coin they could get. The girl's expression smoothed into an apologetic wince as Megumi sat beside her.
"I over reacted," she admitted by way of apology. Megumi smiled softly, patting the girl's clasped hands.
"Oh, you mean with Bella?" Megumi smiled wryly, "I have no doubt you are not the first to entertain such a notion with her, she has far too sharp a tongue. Though I admit, you are the first to carry through with it; it will do her some good I think." She laughed quietly, adding in conspiracy, "I will never forget her expression."
"I-I just feel," Kaoru began impulsively, and then shied away, "It was silly of me, regardless."
"Hmm… I don't think silly is the term I would use," the elder girl commented, soothing the wrinkles from her silken dress thoughtfully, "Perhaps impulsive is more apt, it seems the captain is not a friendly acquaintance of yours?" She enquired, trying to pry delicately. It appeared the girl wished to confide in someone, and Megumi had to admit, she was sorely curious to know the girl's feelings on this matter.
"That is one way of putting it," The girl toned darkly. She turned wide, pleading eyes to the Madame, "Do you think me horrid, having a man in my room….it wasn't like that." She twisted her fingers in the tunic she wore, obviously desperate for comfort.
"A man in your room, horrid? My dear, I run a brothel," she pointed out dryly, "There are no strict social regulations here, obviously. No one will think less of you; I dare say Bella was jealous." She added, confused at the horror this seemed to inspire the girl.
"I didn't… I mean, I wouldn't," Kaoru bit her lip, "I have no interest in the captain." Why does that sound like a lie? She fretted, perplexed, it was the truth, wasn't it? Demon man, he was muddling her wits.
"My dear, everyone had interest in the captain, he's an intriguing man," Megumi smirked, "It is his interest in you that is causing such a stir."
"Me?" Kaoru asked in disbelief, and then she rolled her eyes, dismissing it. "Yes, well, I find nothing special about a pirate trying to bed a woman; I would hardly think that would come as shocking to you." Megumi's eyebrows rose at this. "As for his appeal, this intrigue you speak of, I have yet to see it. I find him to be insufferable, pig headed, a good for nothing criminal." She folded her arms, stubbornly tilting her chin. The Madame couldn't help it, she laughed, and she laughed loudly, giggling uncontrollably for a few moments.
"Oh dear, I imagine he is having quite a time with you," Megumi commented when she could stop chuckling, "I don't think I have ever heard anyone speak of him in such a fashion, nor to him like you did the night before. It is no wonder he is so smitten with you." Her eyes glittered with mirth.
"Smitten?" Kaoru scoffed, "The man simply is a domineering ass, who doesn't like to hear 'no'."
"Oh, he is an ass," Megumi agreed to the girl's surprise, "but I've never seen him chase after a girl, I swear for a moment last night it seemed like he intended to follow you."
He did, she thought to herself with unease, but she didn't wish to delve into that, so she dismissed the matter with a wry quip.
"Yes and throttle me most likely," Kaoru added, "Not that it would be the first."
"The captain was violent with you?" Megumi asked in mild shock.
"Isn't he always?" Kaoru asked hesitantly, she added knowingly, "I have yet to meet a docile pirate."
"Yes, well he may come off as abrasive, I remember when we first met he nearly sliced me with his sword," the Madame admitted after a moment of thought, "but in truth he is a good man."
"Really?" she toned incredulously, her disbelief was readily apparent. Megumi smiled softly.
"You should give him a chance, I don't think it is as cut and dry as you believe," the Madame told her knowingly, "I would venture to say he is not an easy man, but once you get past that, he has a good heart."
"Yes, well, I have more important matters then a pirate's supposed regard, I have no desire to prolong my acquaintance with the man," She worried the tunic's fabric in her fingers agitatedly, "In fact, I plan to leave before night fall to avoid that very thing." She confessed, meeting the Madame's eye with a stubborn amount of daring.
"Very well," the Madame agreed dismissively, choosing not to mention the conversation between Sanosuke and Battousai, thinking it would only serve to upset the girl further. Kaoru let out a sigh of relief at the lack of opposition her announcement faced, she had been fearful of the captain's warning to remain her until his return, but it seemed he had not conveyed those sentiments to any other. Hopefully she would be able to find a new location to spend the night before he came back.
"You are very kind," Kaoru told the Madame, more than a little surprised to discover as much. "Thank you for trying to understand."
"I do what all women do, I meddle," Megumi replied with a self depreciating smirk, "However, I would think on what I've said, the captain isn't so bad." She patted the girl's hands in reassurance. Kaoru wrinkled her nose, blue eyes troubled.
"I will," Kaoru lied easily. Thinking to herself the Madame would never insist on such an absurd thing if she knew the truth of her and the illustrious captain's relationship. It was far from cordial, terrifying in its intensity, the captain scarred her, unbalanced her senses, he would make short work of using her and discarding her if given the opportunity, she had no doubt.
Yet, there were things about him.
Alastair, her ex-fiancé, had been cruel, punishing in his too forward advances, treating her like a leashed pet. Battousai was different, he pushed her, toyed with her, infuriated her to no end, but he lack the coldness of Alastair's regard. The captain was a man of passion, brutal though it may be; he simply seemed to be indulgent in his own desires. Her ex-fiancé had no passion, save his temper; the man was hostile and distant, regarding her aloofly as a plaything for his perverse amusements.
They're both insufferable, her logic insisted in exasperation, anyone is prone to look less evil next to the devil, but that doesn't mean he's a good person.
Still, the Madame's words lingered, especially the word 'smitten'. She tried to scoff at it as she made her way down the dusty road to town, to dismiss it as foolish whimsy. Still, the Madame didn't seem to be a person of whimsy, and her mind kept trailing to the overwhelming sensations she'd felt when she'd awoken this morning. Yes, she'd been furious; he had had no right to do any of that, especially to her.
But…
She'd never felt anything remotely like the sensations he'd stirred in her. She'd never thought it would be pleasurable…that anything of that nature would feel good, had come as quite a shock. A blush ghosted her face, remembering the smoldering look he'd given her, the way his mouth….Drat. She shook her head, wondering what the hell had come over her. It was Megumi's words; they were taunting her, as if such a man would feel any affection towards her. Absurd. He wanted only to lay with her, and then he'd leave, he was only persisting because she'd refused him.
Besides, she hated him.
Right?
Of course, she assured herself, moving forward and banning the man from her thoughts.
The day was warm, the sun a hot draining force in the clear blue sky, shining down on her with stuffy golden rays, baking her hair beneath the heavy woolen cap. She peered at the heat waved road, seeing a small smattering of building coming into view. The Fluer Lascivité was located on the town's borders, a distance from the main populace, as propriety and social etiquette required. People always wished to push from view what they would rather ignore then confront, to sweep it beneath the rug so to speak.
She approached a stable, noticing a few doe eyed horses in the stalls, but no persons about. Miffed, she continued, relieved when she finally spotted people. Rows of venders appeared as she traveled farther, merchants selling food wares and trinkets called out prices while others milled between the stands. Some wild chickens flapped and squawked, cutting through the din of the market. Kaoru continued unnoticed, watching the familiar scene of a normal town with a yearning for simpler times.
"Pretty girl," An old woman gripped her arm, startling her. Kaoru blanched.
"I'm a boy," she tried for offended, drawing her arm from the old crone's grasp. The wizened woman smiled a cracked toothy smile between wrinkled lips, hissing a gruff laughter.
"Sure, sure," she waved her hand in dismissal, "come 'ere, I have what ye need." Kaoru frowned, shaking her head and crossing her arms.
"You have me mistaken," she insisted, offset by the scrutiny the old woman gave her. The woman raised her scraggly white eye brows, guffawing again through her thin lips.
"No mistake, girly," the woman leaned in, she smelled of sweat and dust. Her skin was weathered, her eyes cloudy brown, like muddy water. "X marks the spot, dearie." To Kaoru's shock a wrinkled finger reached out to trace the 'x' birthmark on her covered shoulder, brown eyes gleaming.
"Who are you?" She asked.
"One of you," she responded with a wink, she shuffled, pulling Kaoru's arm in an imploringly. The girl frowned, looking around to see who else was witnessing this crazy woman and herself, it seemed they went ignored by the surrounding crowd; a young boy and an old beggar were hardly an eye catching spectacle.
"Look, I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean," Kaoru balked, resisting as the woman attempted to draw her from the road. "I have to go." She turned, feeling uneasy; the old woman was almost creepy in her absurdity.
"You know the king," the woman tilted her head, white hair wisping across her wrinkled brow, "x marks the spot, you are the treasure," the woman insisted in a scratchy voice, latching onto the girl's bicep with a surprisingly fierce grip. Kaoru paled, confused and slightly scared of the intense look the woman gave her, she must be out of her mind.
The old woman licked her lips, "I can see." She told the wary youth, trying to convey her meaning with her heavily creased eyes.
"Um, that's nice," Kaoru offered, looking for the entire world as if she wished to flee. Still, the old woman's grip remained firm, her eyes wild with intensity, perhaps even madness.
"The mark, you have the mark," the woman continued unabashed. "I have a gift, a treasure for the treasure." She smiled in what might have been an attempt at soothing Kaoru, as it was she stood debating whether or not to wrench free of the elderly woman and run up the road.
"Look, I don't have time for this, I'm sorry," Kaoru attempted to explain, "I have to go." The old woman frowned, looking crest fallen.
"She doesn't know, how could she not know?" The woman muttered to herself, her murky brown eyes met Kaoru's clear sky blue ones. "To see is to know, I know, I know…" She muttered, suddenly distraught, shaking her head as she spoke. "Never mind, you must have the gift, you must."
"I-I," Kaoru stammered. The old woman glared, seeming more in control of her wits suddenly, her brown eyes appearing sharper.
"It is right here," she pointed to a badly worn knapsack, there was a tied bundle beside it, she slipped into rambling once more, "I have waited all day, many suns, I saw ye, always dance with the king. Know the mark, our king, he must be saved."
Clearly she's old and a bit disorientated, Kaoru told herself, Take whatever it is (within reason) and if she still tries to keep you here, run. Decided, she allowed the crone to pull her towards the small bundles. With stiffness that betrayed her age the woman bent, pulling the oblong bundle upwards, it was long and thin and wrapped in twine.
"Here," she thrust it unceremoniously into the girl's hands, "Tch, not knowing, ye won't get far…" She sighed, "I have done what is to be done, my part to play, tell the king his people love him still." Kaoru didn't know any kings, but she nodded anyway, willing to placate the elderly woman. She continued her ranting, but it didn't make any sense, verily, it sounded nothing like Japanese anymore.
The hag continued onward, to her relief, and Kaoru quickly set back towards the market's main road. Walking a distance away she cautiously unwrapped the bundle, gasping at the familiar shape and texture of what was revealed. She turned, looking for the woman, but the crone was gone, vanished. With shaking fingers she drew out the 'treasure', an instrument as well known to her as her arm, sending a surge of gratitude to the odd circumstances that put it in her possession.
She wrapped it back up carefully, excited, running a finger down the smooth wood in awe. It seemed fate was smiling on her, how else could anyone explain the only weaponry she'd ever been any use with falling so conveniently into her possession? Not that bokkens were rare, but the more she pondered the elderly woman's words the more unsettled she became.
How had she known Kaoru was a girl? Most people mistook her easily for the boy she portrayed, and what about her strange knowledge about her birth mark, she'd traced the 'x' with precision, as if she'd known. It was all very strange, mystifying, but with determination she knew she didn't have time to think on whimsy and coincidence. She had to see if she could find work, and try to pick up gossip on the local slave trade (not an easy feat). Old women, birthmarks, and bokkens would have to wait.
But, even as she resolved herself, she couldn't help but recall the last time she'd held a wooden sword…
*Flashback*
She was locked in a room.
Her latest attempt at escape had been disastrous; she still bore the bruises of her supposed fiancé's displeasure as he discovered his pretty young bride intended to flee (again). Thankfully, with her face decorated by his fist with an ugly purple mark, he had decided to postpone the upcoming nuptials, but she had to wonder forlornly if it even mattered.
She didn't want a delay, she wanted her freedom.
His treatment of her in the past month had worsened severely, and she'd soon learned there was a limitless amount of unspent perversion in the man her father had so callously promised her to. He was cold, demeaning, and exercised no self restraint in his sickening intentions for her. His belt left marks so deep these days she feared they would scar, not to mention the other marks of which there were a unpleasant variety, and he often amused himself by whispering to her of his "friends" and their desire to meet her.
She shuddered.
Truly he couldn't be serious.
But from what she knew of him, she only feared the worst had yet to come.
"Kamiya darling," he entered, appearing to her hardened eyes to be the devil incarnate. Sadistic, refined, he glided into her prison with a smirk. "Really dear, I hate to see you reduced to such dismal surroundings." He looked around at the small room he kept her in, the futon on the floor and the lack of window did make it seem very much like a jail cell. "Perhaps you have learned your lesson?"
"I hate you," She told him airily, "I would rather die than be married to you."
"Oh?" his green eyes were sharp, merciless, his tone cruel and taunting, "I think you will find death is a release I don't grant lightly, wife."
"Stop calling me that," She snapped, eyes flashing. He frowned, upset at her defiance, a slow devious smirk tainting his lips.
"Why pet? Does it displease you?" He enquired mockingly, "I think you are unaware of my own displeasure, or you would not provoke me so with your frivolous tantrums."
"They are not frivolous!" She insisted, rising to face him, squaring her shoulders. "I hate you, I find you vile and perverse, a lowly demon without a soul to sully. You are nothing but a worthless warped being, leave me alone." At first he seemed taken aback, but then his features flushed in anger, eyes narrowing into green predatory slits.
"For that, you surely realize you will enjoy my company tonight," He threatened darkly, looming as a severe and menacingly presence in the dimly lit room. Her stomach clenched ice cold, but she stood her ground, tired of his games.
"You don't scare me," she uttered frigidly, mustering all of her bravado. "I won't be silenced with your disgusting threats."
"Oh, really pet?" He asked, a scarily intense look flared in his façade, "I shall have to remedy that, a man should be feared and respected by all he owns. That includes you, my dear, whether you can come to terms with this is left up to your own discretion, but I'll have you know, your opinion changes nothing in the end. You are mine."
"I am not," She hissed, "I will never be."
In his rage he simply left, slamming the door behind him.
That night, he endeavored to make her regret those very words. She knew when he came to collect her that it did not bode well, could see it in the excitement of his gaze. Repulsed, she attempted to fend him off, but he easily dragged her from the room, binding her wrists when she attempted to strike at him.
"Untie me!" She whispered in acidic fury. He yanked the bindings, smirking as he pushed her along.
"In due time, sweet," he murmured, "I have a surprise for you."
Her pride urged her to let him know that no surprise from him was ever wanted, but her terror at what loomed in her future kept her mute. He was so cruel, and it seemed she had truly pressed his patience with arguing with him earlier. She assumed it was the belt again, knowing instinctively it was one of his favorite tools, and sincerely hoping he would not lash her as badly as the last time, it had hurt to sit for a week.
He pulled her into a room she'd never seen, and once she glimpsed its contents she struggled harder than she ever had. Four men sat in seeming innocence, but their eyes were cold, hard, and predatory as they roved her flushed and trussed form. One smiled, and it curdled the blood in her veins, turning it to ice.
"This, pet, will curb your spiritedness," He chuckled into her ear, tugging her through the door frame with a sneer. She bucked frantically, desperate to escape this room, wary of the wooden pole in the center, the glee on her fiancé's face, and the reflected excitement in the faces of the men who watched them enter.
"I'm s-sorry," She whispered, turning soulful watery eyes to his flat green ones, "Please, I will do anything, just not this."
"Unfortunately, my sweet, this is all I require of you," He smirked knowingly at her immediate horror and distress, "For now." Dragging her forward he responded to his peers chuckles, introducing her as 'the fiery bitch I spoke of' and pushing her firmly towards the pole.
She felt adrift in a sea of insanity, pleading with her eyes, and only meeting heated excited stares that made her skin crawl. There was no mercy, no reprieve here.
"Undress," He ordered, shoving her forward. She gasped; mouth agape as she spun to face him.
"W-what?" She demanded incredulously, folding her arms around herself as the onlookers guffawed.
"Do it; or I will allow them to," He told her with a small smile. At her balking stance he turned to the men, "Riley, would you like the honors?" The man he addressed smiled revealing white teeth, his beady eyes roaming her figure as he licked his lips. She cringed, mouth dry, pulse drumming.
"Touch me and I'll slit your throat," She told the man in question. He had a head of salt and pepper hair and had to be her father's age at least, but at her venomous comment, his toothy grin broadened.
"Oh, she is delightful," a young blonde man commented, silver eyes impassive, "You were right to wait Alastair, I would be greedy with such a treasure myself."
"She's frightfully defiant," her fiancé responded, coming up behind his future wife's form to toy with her hair. Alastair inhaled deeply at the vee of her neck, tracing her body with his hands. "Yet I find it intoxicating." This earned hearty approval, the other men eyeing her in appreciation. She tensed, knowing she was trapped, terrified of what they might do to her.
"What are you doing?" she asked him, turning so she could meet his jade colored eyes. He smiled, hands rising to cup her hips.
"Showing you off," he murmured huskily in her ear, "Now strip," at her outraged scowl he added, "or I will do it forcefully."
"My hands are tied," she pointed out stiffly, trying to buy time. Chuckling, his cat eyes glittered with barely hidden arousal and insidious intent at their situation, feeding off the budding anticipation the audience he'd summoned radiated for this first display of his now favorite toy. Once he broke her, she'd make a fine wife, and in the meantime he vastly enjoyed curbing her strong will.
"Allow me, my dear," his arm snaked to pull her flush against his form, the other slowly unfastening the buttons at the back of her neck. When she began to resist he clenched her middle harshly, growling gutturally into the shell of her ear, "The more you fight me, the longer this will take."
"If you care for me at all you won't do this to me," she uttered in desperation, choking back tears. He caressed her cheek mockingly; with a condescending expression towards her distraught profile he continued unclasping her dress' back buttons.
"Oh sweet, I care for you," he told her soothingly, and with a cutting smirk he added, "This is simply how I choose to show it." She tried to wrench free then, and ended up tearing the delicate silk dress in his brutal grip, the buttons spraying as the fabric ripped in two. The onlookers smirked, one lighting a cigar casually, as if this were normal.
"Please, help me," She asked of them, yet not one would meet her eyes. Their attentions solely focused on the dipping of the fabric at her chest, and the milky skin becoming visible beneath it. Bastards.
"My pretty bride," he griped her silky black hair as she tried to stop his downward tug of her garments, "If you disturb our guests, I will gag that mouth of yours." With that cruel promise he yanked the decadent and now destroyed garment down off her slim form, exposing her thin white under dress.
She continued to struggle, crying out when another man rose and assisted; holding her while her fiancée tied a silken gag around her mouth. She tried to bite at the fabric to no avail, and with her wrists bound, her fiancé suggested with a smirk that a blind fold would be appropriate, tying another silken length across her wide sapphire eyes, blinding her.
Now defenseless, she whimpered, not sure whose hands toyed at her under garments hem, she felt a hand at the clasps, another at her hips. Then her under dress was also taken from her, and she was naked, exposed to all the two men's vicious eyes and hands. Blinded, she heard the other men join the first, their clothing rustles audible to her straining ears. She could hear their heavy breathing closing in on her trembling form.
Disorientated she yelped when they pushed her back, feeling as if she were falling into nothing, something hard pressed at her back, the pole, she realized. Her tied hands were raised, held firm above her head, hooked above so that she couldn't lower them in a vain attempt to protect her modesty. When she was released from the multiple hands, she tried to run forward, only to have a strong yank pull at her ankles and waist as well as her wrists, they'd bound her well to the post, and it didn't give under her furious struggles.
Male chuckles punctuated her attempt, commenting at her body and its vulnerability.
"Pretty little tits," One said.
"Prettier like this," she winced as without warning fingers pinched her nipple hard, twisting and rubbing it raw in a punishing caress. A hot wet touch replaced the bruising hold, a mouth, she realized, repulsed. She wiggled in a stunted attempt of escape and the teeth clamped, gnawing the tender nub between sharp incisors until she abated.
"Saucy bitch, look at her fight," one laughed, she winced as a slap connected across her chest, a pinch at her thighs, "I would pay a pretty sum for an amusement like this." Someone was hurting her chest, another running a finger across her lips, she wished she could see, could fight back, tears rolled down her eyes, making the silken blind fold damp.
"Get your own," another responded with good humor. She felt hands tracing the bruises on her skin, the lash marks.
Kaoru let out a loud whimper, trying to catch their attention while they toyed and prodded at her so callously.
"She likes it," one added. They continued their torturous advances, doing much the same as Alastair had done many times before, and worse, because she was utterly powerless to speak her mind, to move, to fight. The smell of them, cologne and cigars, was dizzying, suffocating, their chatter was malicious and degrading, as they took what they wanted with no regard for her. And for Kaoru it was too much, too humiliating, but they cared not.
"Of course," she whimpered as she felt her knees thrust apart, a hand cupped her at the center of her legs, "She loves it," a voice whispered gutturally in her ear, "don't you Kaoru darling?" A muffled shriek of outrage was her only response. Her fiancé chuckled darkly in the shell of her ear. She knew the sound of his laughter, it haunted her nightmares.
Blinded, her other senses enhanced, decidedly for the worse, she could heard every greedy suck of breath, every rustle of clothing, their hands on her skin even made noise, a sickening sound. Their laughter and taunts stung her ears, scalding her with callous indifference to her muffled whimpers of pain and degradation. They clustered around her, in awe of her beauty although that went unvoiced, entranced as they tormented her unwilling body
She was drowning in revulsion, a blind panicked need to retaliate with no productive outlet, as she squirmed in her ties uselessly. Tears poured unchecked, she couldn't breathe, her lungs labored with sobs of desperation.
Suddenly they dispersed, their looming groping figures retreated, and she sucked in air, trying to grit in the sobs wracking her small frame. They spoke in murmurs, a distance away now, and she relaxed the slightest, letting out a quivering sigh.
"Sh, my sweet," she tensed immediately, realizing her error as fingers brushed at the tears leaking from the blindfold. Her fiancé had remained nearly right in front of her, motionless and silent. Her pulse sky rocketed, her mouth growing dry in terror.
"Let me help," he crooned, his hands skimming down her captured breasts to release the pins, "Sh, pet," he soothed her like a child, condescendingly, as he loosened the ties and stroked her back. She was still crying, for some reason, she couldn't stop.
For a moment he simply soothed her, stroking her hair.
Blinded still, she couldn't read the malicious intent on his sinister features.
Without warning he spun her violently, pressing her front to the pole, ensnaring her hair, he hissed with venom, "You will always fear me." She let out a choked cry, muffled by the gag, and he held her firm, retying her in punishing jerks. Behind her, she heard the other men's snickers.
Her pleas were held indistinguishable by the choking soggy silk, she trembled, afraid, naked, tied, she could feel him moving behind her. The hair on the back of her neck rose and she heard the snake like slither of a sound she knew too well. She tried to scream, to curse them, sobbing at her inability to prevent what would occur next.
The first lash came like a thousand bee stings, slapping her flesh in a burning strike. The murmurs of appreciation fueled her humiliation and fear, these disgusting men liked it, were no better than the man who was doing this to her.
He responded to a murmured comment one of the men made, but she didn't hear it, because he struck again at the same time, and again, until it was as if a steady drip of acid was being splashed across her skin, burned in searing lateral and horizontal whips. She screamed for a new reason, not from humiliation or anger, though those were still there somewhere, she screamed until her throat was raw out of agony.
They laughed, amused at her pain.
Something important in her broke.
The part of her that had blinding believed she would escape this twisted man.
A bitter, older self was born in the sharded pieces, as she screamed like a banshee, and her skin parted under the merciless onslaught, the first few trails of blood tricking down her enflamed flesh. She must've passed out, somewhere in the pain and darkness, retreating to the oblivion of unconsciousness, curling up and falling back. It was too much, too cruel…
When she awoke Sanosuke was there, shaking her conscious, his eyes tight with worry and urgency. He wrapped her in a blanket and carried her like a child, darting from the prison she'd been locked in for six months, cursing himself for not being able to get to her sooner. She saw something then, something past the sun tanned troublemaker that used to make mud cakes and pull her hair, Sano had grown up into a strong, brave, and loyal man, her heart filled with pride for the person she considered an elder brother. Pride and gratitude, because she didn't know how she'd ever repay him for this.
"Look, I even brought a bokken, in case we get into trouble," he showed her it when they paused, wary to cross the moonlit grounds, lest they be seen by a wandering servant or guard.
The way he said it, so proud, so like the impulsive boy she knew made her clasp her arms around his neck breathing her gratitude in a reverent whisper, "Thank you," she choked out, her throat still raw from her screams. His worried eyes scanned her face, noting the bruise on her flesh with a parental outrage.
"Don't thank me yet little missy," He warned, pushing her down beside him in the looming dark, "Thank me when we're long and gone from this place, it gives me the creeps." He shuddered, his sentence ending just as the first cry of alarm sounded.
-*-End Flashback-*-
A/N: Who was happy to see Misao? A few guessed who she was in chapter four *pout* but I hope some were still surprised. I really have to work at being better at being subtle I suppose… Don't kill me for lack of Battousai/Kaoru steaminess, plot is important too! *Dodges angry reader's knives* Yikes, more lime (lemon?) is coming! I swear! *runs from angry mob* Apparently not soon enough….LOL
P.S. I procrastinated so much that my reviews *gulp* built up to epic proportions, many thanks to those who think I'm worthy *humble bow* and for the rest, bear with me as I try and honor those who've stuck with my lazy ass this long…
Odat: Yes, Battou-chan (as he hates to be called and made a point of whapping me for after the last post) is indeed a very demanding person (but you try saying no to a slightly hung over sword wielding assassin LOL). Thanks for you very nice review, and wa-la Misao makes herself known. Just don't hate me for where's she stuck at right now *sweat drop*
Reignashii: Err… the slave girl is Misao, uh… please don't kill me, but I felt like it fit…. You said 'please don't let it be her' so many times you made me nervous to post this! Now I have nightmares about Misao fans murdering me while I sleep….LOL.
Brukaoru: To answer your review, here is Sano:
Sanosuke: *Glomp* She thinks I'm funny! YAY! *Happy Dance*
Author: Uh… Sano. *Points*
Sano: Yep? *Sees very enraged Megumi behind author* CRAP! Uh, bye Brukaoru…Owe, owe, owe… *Is being dragged off by his ear*
Kao-Misao1728: LMAO, I suppose I am an evil author, although you were the bluntest in telling me so. I have written more chapters, but I feel, based on you review, that I should elaborate. I was iffy, first of all, on posting this chapter at all based on how many people didn't want the slave girl to be Misao, not to mention that this fiction was originally going in a totally different direction and the main plot line has been changed five times since its beginning, as well as chapters erased, rewritten, added to, ect…. In short, I am horribly indecisive and never satisfied with my own work. So if I don't post, it's usually because I'm biting my fingernails going everyone is going to HATE this … Hopefully, I'm wrong.
Otaku's Moon: Thank you! I tried hard for the ship speak to sound authentic, by which I mean I watched the Pirates of the Caribbean too many times. LOL. Glad you liked it! I did get a lot more reviews saying the evil fiancé scenes were disturbing, so I toned it down this chapter (okay, just a bit, but still) and that will the last torture scene for poor Kaoru. Yay? Next comes retribution, *cackles evilly* BTW, Kaoru is seventeen in my story.
berry-tan: Anyone who uses the words 'bloody amazing story' in a row deserves a personal thank you, kudos, and I hope that you like this addition to my Brutal Passions saga.
Icyvfrost: I feel I owe you a debt, you're comments about the characters that Kaoru needs to whap with her bokken (mainly the fiancé bastard, Battousai, and Yahiko if he doesn't remember her) inspired a fun little tid bit in chapter seven, and while this is not chapter seven, when is does get posted, you will get to see .
Nao Nei: I laughed to myself when writing the scene where Battousai falls into Kaoru's lap, it just sprang up on me and I started giggling to myself and now my coworkers think I'm insane, but no worries, they probably thought that before anyway….
Sailor2Moon: This 'kind' thing that they refer to first gets a semi explanation in the fourth chapter when Aoshi is thinking to himself (I know my Aoshi is way talkative compared to the original, but I can't help it) basically they're just like normal people, only with gifts, they isolated themselves from everyone else and thanks to Tomoe's betrayal they were mostly all murdered except for the few that were captured. They aren't really anything, just people with unexplained powers who trained as assassins, going with an age old plot device of 'once upon a time there was more to the world than there is now'. Shinto was behind it, because of some devious 'rule the world plot', and now has hidden the survivors in Alastair's slave trade. Oh, and each has a 'mark' either from battle or from birth that pairs them with their mate (see chapter one). Hope that settles some of the confusion.
The Lady Meow: Thanks for your nomination! For those of you who haven't read The Lady Meow's review, she has posted my story as a monthly poll to discover which fan fictions are best loved, and to inform readers of good stories. So far no one else has commented in my favor (lol) but the sentiment is very nice, as is the site. THANKS! For any interested, I have included the link below to the board.
.?topic=1125.0
Honorable Mention: kingdomfantasyanime453; Kokoronagomu; SomeoneYouKnowYetDontKnow; Ivy Tearen; Sunkissed Dreams; icecandy74l; Paramecio; .; ArtemisMoon87; ; Thorns of beauty; Minxmessenger; Ashley; chibichocolate02; joy; Kaiwren522; DrSweetnSour; kagomes heart; SriHellgirl25; mo; Kawaii-KeKe-Chan; Grace
A/N: As you can see, I got way more reviews than I deserve; you guys are far too kind. The best way I can repay you is by getting my chapters out sooner, and I will try. *Group glomp* Thank you times a million, and until next time. *Waves bye-bye*