Misao
Having finished dinner and chatted, Misao was going back to the cabin in relative high spirits. She had just touched the cool door handle, when she heard Aoshi's voice on the other side of it, a low snarl. "What do you know about Misao." Misao gasped. Aoshi-sama? What…? She heard Kenshin's sad voice and pressed her ear to the door and began to listen, tears prickling at her eyes, a hand pressing to her mouth. With every word they said, her fingers tightened around the handle – and her heart broke a little.
"Just as you want to protect her… Misao-dono wants to protect you. It's something we don't realize – but the people we want to protect have the same towards you – yet they may show it differently, indeed they do." She heard Kenshin say comfortingly. "Speaking of which, she's about to open the door now." How did he-? Misao jerked back, wiped her eyes, then knocked, knowing it was her cue.
Kenshin opened the door. "Ah, hello there, Misao-dono!" he said pleasantly, but Misao could see that he looked very sad. "Aoshi and this one were just having a drink, indeed we were." He laughed a little, holding up the empty bottle and shaking it to show there was nothing inside. "I guess we got a bit carried away, no?"
Trying to smile back, Misao nodded. "Oh really? I hope you didn't get him too drunk, Mr. Himura." She levelled a gaze at him. "Well, good night, I suppose."
"Good night to you too, Misao-dono."
Misao walked in and saw Aoshi sitting on her bed, his head against the windowsill of the slightly opened window – an unlit cigarette in his mouth. His usually icy clear eyes looked unfocussed. "Aoshi-sama?" she asked cautiously. "…Do… Do you want a light?" He didn't answer. Misao crossed her arms. "Aoshi-sama… You really shouldn't drink, you know… You told me yourself that you have no tolerance for alcohol." She stepped closer.
It looked like focusing on her was difficult for him. "Sit next to me…" he said.
"O-okay." Misao sat down next to Aoshi. "You smell like alcohol, you know." She said, about to start another tirade.
"Save the lecture for when I have a hangover tomorrow morning. It'll be more effective" Aoshi muttered.
"Do you want me to turn on the light?"
"Just leave it." They sat in silence, Miso turning to him occasionally and opening her mouth – then turning away and closing it, only to cast a few concerned glances in Aoshi's direction. He simply stared forward, his eyes half-lidded. Suddenly, he twisted around to face her. "How much did you hear?" he asked.
"U-um…" the corner of Misao's mouth twitched in an awkward smile. "N-not much… Like…-" she cut herself off before saying any more. "Yeah… Not much."
He let out a breath in a strange way, Misao only later realizing it was kind of a dry laugh. "So you did hear."
"A-Aoshi-sama! Honestly, don't worry 'bout me, okay? I chose this! You've always protected me, but now that I'm not a little kid any more you don't have to feel all responsible for me and whatever! I'll always do my best, okay?"
"…Do you remember that day when I became the Okashira?"
Misao looked down. "Yeah." She nodded. "Yeah, I do."
In the large office, the entire household was gathered. Okina sat in his chair at the desk. For the first time, Misao saw it empty of papers, empty glasses and cigar butts. Its' smooth surface gleamed in the half-light. With a groan and crack of joints, Okina stood. "Today…" he said. "I have realized that I've gotten rather old." He half-smiled. "And no, this isn't because Misao beat me on the shooting range, or because Aoshi beat me at chess for the fifth time in a row. I have realized it is time for me to stand down. I am tired and there is someone who I trust with the position even more than I trust myself."
With a grin of anticipation, Misao looked up at Aoshi, whose face was expressionless as he looked at the empty chair beside which Okina stood.
Okina nodded. "Aoshi. From today – you are the head of the family, the Okashira of the Oniwabanshu."
Aoshi slowly bowed. "It is an honor." He said. With measured steps, he approached the front of the room, dragging his fingertips over the top of the desk and letting his other hand rest on the back of the leather chair. He looked at the lineup, Misao now standing at the front, Okina standing at the back. He nodded – then slowly sat down, straight-backed and sharp-eyed. The third Okashira.
With no experience – at sixteen years of age, Misao did what she had heard was correct. She stepped forward in her nicest dress, her favorite knife strapped to her thigh under the frills. She reached Aoshi's side and bowed. With a clear voice, she looked at him and grinned. "…I, Makimachi Misao, am pledgin' my fealty to the Oniwabanshu and to the new Okashira." She said formally, then bent to kiss his hand, her lips ghosting over his knuckles. When she looked up again, she met his eyes and he nodded at her gently. "Good luck, Aoshi-sama!" she whispered. Blushing bright red, she took her place behind his chair.
That was also the day she had first killed someone.
Misao was grinning like an idiot, twirling around the grounds of the mansion with an imaginary dance partner or to be more specific – an imaginary Aoshi. She hummed to herself as she pretended to be dipped on a dance floor of freshly mown grass. She lay down on her back, looking up at the bright, cloudless sky, wrapping her arms around herself and grinning a happy grin.
Then she sat up, looking at the mansion with rose bushes all around – and the pond, a few ducks swimming across its' surface. Aoshi-sama's the Okashira now! He must be so happy right now, right? And in a few years, I'll be part of the family business too and work alongside Aoshi-sama! Maybe he'll even let me be his right-hand man… Uh, woman! ...In a few years… I'll be a complete adult! He might even marry me because I'll be so cool and good at everything…! Her hormonal teenage brain devolved into various imaginary scenarios that involved being pinned to a desk by an amorous Aoshi.
As she delved into a particular imaginary scenario that involved Aoshi's tie around her wrists (still on the desk) – she sensed something off, and her eyes snapped open. She sprang into a crouch, on alert. Immediately, nothing seemed to be glaringly wrong. The pond was as still as ever, the sun just as bright and the trellis with roses under the office window… Oh shit.
Somebody was climbing up and he didn't look anything like anyone Misao knew, or should be climbing in that particular spot.
Instincts kicking in, Misao quickly got into the shadows and made her way across the yard to the wall which the strange man was climbing. She hid in the shadow between to large rosebushes, ignoring the sharp thorns that cut into her. Up close, he was very nondescript-looking but with a gun on his hip like a cowboy. That gun sealed his fate. Misao hiked her dress up so that it wouldn't obstruct the movement of her legs and drew the knife from its' sheath on her thigh.
As the man climbed, he was slow, and so Misao could still reach his leg. She judged the distance if she jumped, and figured she'd be able to bring him down. And so, jumping from the shadows, her knife between her teeth, she leapt and latched onto the man from behind, her knees crushing his ribs and her knife at his throat.
Unfortunately, she was not heavy enough to bring him down and he drew his gun, about to fire at her, twisting and pointing it at her.
I'll die.
Aoshi-sama'll d- NO!
The adrenalin kicked in.
The knife sunk deep into his throat and cut across as if by itself, meeting little resistance. She must've cut a major artery because of the spray of blood that dyed the red brick wall even redder.
The gun went off too loudly, the bullet lodging itself into the brick wall with a weird 'tthhkk' sound. She had no idea that in comparison to a bullet, brick walls were so soft…
There was so much blood. She didn't know that there even was so much blood in a person.
There was a crack and the trellis fell, Misao and the man fell with it.
The window flew open with a crash. Aoshi was looking at her with such eyes, his knuckles white around his gun.
The man was dead, he stopped moving. He was so heavy.
Misao could barely feel the ground as her back hit it, the man, the rosebush and the trellis all landing of top of her. The thorns cut her even more, but somehow, she didn't feel the pain. There was a roaring in her ears and everything was blurry.
She stood, shakily, disengaging herself from the thorns of the climbing rosebush and the still-warm body of the dead man. Things swam into such focus that it made her head hurt. She blankly gazed up at Aoshi who looked so worried, his knuckles white around the window frame and his gun in his other hand. It registered that she should reassure him. He looked rather worried, after all.
Her fingers were so tightly clenched around the knife that they were starting to cramp. The warm blood all down her dress, her hands and the dripping splatter on her cheek didn't matter. She didn't want Aoshi to worry. She had just saved everyone. She had just saved Aoshi.
So she smiled, tilting her head to the side. "It's… Okay… It's okay, Aoshi-sama." She said. It seemed as if she had not spoken for years, it was strangely difficult to form words, like speaking in a dream. "It's okay…" she repeated.
But he looked so terribly sad when she said it that she stopped smiling. She was about to ask what was wrong, when her legs would no longer hold her for some reason. Her last thought before everything went black was, 'The trellis's gonna be a pain to fix later…'
"Yeah, I remember." Misao repeated. "What about it?"
"…Tell me the truth. Do you regret that day?" his eyes were sharp, his eyebrows drawing together.
"Hell no!" Misao said, blinking. "The only thing I regret is breaking the trellis and ruining my dress." She said firmly. "And I'm not even joking."
His eyes softened and saddened and he looked first down, then at her, then drew her into a gentle embrace, his hands tightening around her shoulders. "…What have I turned you into, Misao…?" he whispered into her hair and she could smell the alcohol even more strongly. "…What have I really protected you from?"
Misao was not expecting him to hug her and her eyes widened, but she wrapped her arms around him too, sniffing, not wanting to see him so distressed. When someone was always so collected, so calm – seeing them emotional – especially if you cared about them more than anything… It made Misao cry. She was strong. -Ish. But she couldn't keep the tears in any longer. "Everything…!" she said through a choked sob. "I remember, even then, that day… I told you – 'it's okay, Aoshi-sama'!" she sniffed. "Don't worry about me! I'll be fine! I'm always fine! I just…" she sniffed. "I just wan'cha t' be happy, s'all!" she muttered into his shoulder. "So I'll try ta' protect your happiness too…"
His arms tightened around her. "…I apologize." He said softly. "I have no tolerance for alcohol and have drank more than half the bottle… My actions have been less than…" he searched for a word drunkenly. "Less than… Less than… Proper. But… Will you allow me to stay in this way for a little longer?"
Softly giggling, Misao's hands fisted in the fabric of Aoshi's shirt at his shoulders. "…Guess you didn't leave much booze for Himura…. Poor guy…!"
After a while, Misao felt him sag slightly in her arms and his breathing to seem slightly more even. Is he asleep? Aoshi-sama is sleeping on me? What am I supposed to do? I guess I'll just… She slowly and gently lowered him onto the bed, her teeth clenching a little as she tried to do it at a controlled speed. I swear to god. Aoshi-sama is twice my size… But why is he so heavy?! Finally, she pulled a blanket over him and sat back on the edge of the bed.
"Really, Aoshi-sama…" she whispered, smiling. "Getting drunk, then falling asleep in my bed, always worrying so much about me…"
She got up and closed the window, drawing the curtains. In the dark, she sat at the foot of her bed where Aoshi's head was and brushed his hair away from his face with faint fingers. He looks kinda younger when he's asleep. Not as serious and frowny, maybe? She smiled a little. I wonder, does he dream? What does he dream about?
I dream about you, Aoshi-sama.