.
The priestess stilled her praying and opened her eyes, dark with hatred. "You are wise to hesitate, young man."
Directly behind her, on a dais, Aoshi noticed the body of an old man. He recognized the Kiyosato daimyo, the front of his most ceremonial wardrobe drenched in blood.
"Did you think to take this villa?" the shaman continued, her voice sharp. "Did you think to make it a prize to your bride?" Her eyes glinted, and Aoshi stilled his fear. Only a few within their clans knew about the arrangement between himself and Misao.
"I pray that you make a misstep, young Captain." Her lips twisted in a smile. "I pray that your hubris is great."
Aoshi finally found his voice. "No dishonor is intended toward this clan."
Megumi's face twisted. She chuckled. She bowed her head and laughed.
Bleeding.
Bleeding from her throat while her hands lay clenched at her sides.
The pool of blood growing, staining the walls in a slow, seeping climb.
Laughter. A rumbling sound from the body of the daimyo. Dry, whispering rattles from the bodies of the priests.
The bodies began to smoke. Charring. The scent of spirit herbs.
The victors ran.
.
As soon as he was outside, where bodies lay still and steamed and stank as they were supposed to, Shinomori Aoshi immediately sent word to make sure that Makimachi Misao was untouched by any obvious curses. It was reported that she was whole and safe and angry at what she perceived as his overprotective concern.
Reassured, Aoshi then turned to the urgent task of burning the entire villa to the ground.
.