Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Curl ❯ Chapter 13

"You are NOT turning this place into your own personal…" Misao's hands were edging and clawing at air, as she gestured madly, as she looked for the word.

"Orgy? Love den? Nest, perhaps?" Sano grinned simply, watching the shades of red his 'imouto-chan' ('little sister') took. "Oh, I see you like orgy the best, huh? I didn't know you were like *that*…"

*-*-*-*

At the time, that had been funny, however, in light of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours, Sanosuke faithfully regretted ever suggesting such things. It wasn't enough that his image of Misao was now tainted by the ideas of sex, getting sex, giving sex… having sex with…

"Seta…," the low growl escaped his lips before he realized what he was saying. The pencil that was twirling in his fingers now cracked in half. It seemed that today was naked day in the realm of Sano, as now he lay on top of his comforter, his hair damp, and just barely concealed by a towel.

When he had returned to his room, layered with the dirt and various nameless bacteria pooling in his pores from his extracurricular activities, he had no energy to do much else except sprawl over his bed listlessly. He heard the front door close, and soon after the door from the bathroom to Misao's room. Neither door was slammed, and yet, the noise shattered all hope of drug induced serenity. He took this as an opportunity to venture out of his stinking hole, vainly hoping Aoshi still had that cleaning lady.

Then Sano took a very, very long shower. No matter how raw he rubbed his skin, he couldn't find it in his heart to forgive himself, even if Misao would.

'If she does,' he swiped his hand down the front of his face. Part of him told himself that she knew how he was. None of this should've been a surprise. She'd seen him around the ladies before. Bitterly, his hand returned to cover his face, and his fingers dug into the sides of it, 'And especially now she's a woman and all, she should know…'

There was no pill for this sort of pain. The only clear memory he had of that night was the sounds of her sobs as they raked her body and seeped through the paper thin door. It shattered his previous rationale and prevented him from dodging the blame.

*-*-*-*

The hour of six was near approaching when Aoshi climbed out of the shower. Apparently, this was the hour of hygiene among the men of this apartment. Oddly, each occupant felt worse when they left the bath, then when they went in. He held an end of a towel in each hand and scrubbed his hair dry. Resting the towel on his shoulders, still holding each end, he found himself staring at his unanswering reflection. This orientation thing… he dreaded it. Often he would never admit such things, but it dwelled deep inside of him that this would be a mistake. Who was he to call himself 'a guardian'?

In vain, he'd tried to keep some derivative of 'family' in this trio under one roof. So far, he'd slimly succeeded in keeping all of them alive. But it was only day three. Suddenly feeling the chill of the air in the room, as the steam was sucked up by the fan, he yanked his bathrobe off of its hook on the wall by the shower. Easily sliding it over his shoulders, he deftly tied the belt into a knot with one hand. He tucked his thumb behind the belt, and leaned against the sink counter with the other hand. His back faced the mirror, as it had given him no answers, and no conclusions.

When they had arrived, the tension, the fights, they were all in fun. Resolved minutes after their rise, it was something to laugh about. The weasel and the rooster, and their reluctant patron. Now it was the man, the woman, and the one forced to watch. It felt like he was living in some deranged foreign flick, where there was never a happy ending in sight.

His calloused fingers skimmed over the loops in the cotton terry, reminded of towels and… of her. There was a snort, a distant cousin to our friend, the chuckle. Those ice blue eyes drifted to the ceiling, as he wondered when the last time he had a woman was. Aoshi wasn't as flippant with such things as Sanosuke was, at least not in the same way. The women still meant nothing to him, they just hung around a lot longer living in delusion. Somehow this made Aoshi the better man, simply because he let them tag along a while longer… only because these women believed they were around for more than sex.

And here stood both don juans, under one roof, with one woman they didn't have a bloody clue what to do with. Swinging the tail end of the terry belt, his mind drifted to the woman… Misao. With raven tendrils framing her face, her shoulders…

Snapping his head back to its proper posture, he turned back around to the mirror. He swiped his hand over his face (apparently an also common trait of these men). She's ten years younger. 'What the hell's the matter with you Shinomori?!'

*-*-*-*

"C'mon, Aoshi."

"No."

"C'mooon. You know you want to."

"Sagara Sanosuke. No." He looked his younger brother square in the eye as they stood in front of the new releases in the tape rental store. His younger brother was waving a blank cassette case. Just when he thought Sanosuke was growing up, he grew down.

"Dammit, why the hell not?!" They stood toe to toe, and Aoshi thanked every divinity that they were the only ones there. How would he ever be able to face his father if this got out?

"I don't need it." Sanosuke fumed, as his brother dismissively brushed passed by him to continue perusing the tapes.

"Like I fucking believe THAT…! AOSHI!" The spikey-headed teen trotted up to keep pace with his brother, who was successfully ignoring him. "Don't be so bloody shit-faced about it! Aren't you just a liiiiittle curious???" The young Sano beamed with a winning smile, and suggestive eye wiggle. It always worked on kids his own age, but never did it ever work on Aoshi.

"Iie," Aoshi swiftly moved over to the health section, looking over the Martial Arts training videos. There was an eight year difference between the two siblings, and Sanosuke had probably tried every way possible to take advantage of it. First, trying to use his brother to pick up older chicks. Then he wanted Aoshi to buy him and his friends hard liquor. Now, this. It just kept getting better and better, the fifteen-year-old was completely unyielding.

"Look, you said one tape for you, one tape for me, this is mine!" Sano was trying every route he possibly could. All his friends had seen it without him when they were on the ski trip, that he sourly missed because a certain weasel girl caused him to break his arm and her bedroom door. He saw this as a perfect opportunity to pick up the slack.

Aoshi's tone was hushed, though it was loud enough to back Sano into a wall, "Do you really think I want to watch porn with my baby brother?"

"Would you prefer to TELL me what it's like?"

And so, Shinomori Aoshi swore to himself that after this trip, he was never going to show his face in that video store again. Not after the way that squeaky teenie-bopper girl took the liberties of snickering at him. It took every ounce of his being to not beat the grin off his brother's face… at least until they got back to the apartment.

*-*-*-*

Misao had drearily forced herself awake, when her half closed lids briefly caught the time. It was actually time to get up, not that she was looking forward to it. Her movements were mechanical, her senses decidedly numb. The only thing she could concern herself with right now was not disappointing Jiya.

'Go to school. Get good grades. Try not to kill anyone,' the girl silently noted to herself. It was so tempting right now, as her numbness was subsiding to anger. With new resolve, she was determined to make the best out of this day. She hadn't moved here for him, she'd moved here for Jiya. Looking over her reflection in the mirror, after her shower, and dressing, she began testing out some poker faces. No one would know how much she didn't like that school, no one would know what was going on in her head, at home, nothing. All she had to do was survive this year, and then this hell would be over.

'Out of sight, out of mind,' she thought to herself as her eyes drifted to Sanosuke's door. Before she could dwell on that much longer, she swung herself around, with a swish of her 'tail' and retreated back to her boudoir. Double-taking past the clock, her eyes widened, "Eight-thirty?! Only???" Guess when you put your mind to something, or… get it off of certain things, getting ready for school was just a drop in the bucket. Now she just needed a new distraction.

*-*-*-*

In his lifetime, he could fairly say he had been victim to many alleged surprises. Twenty-eight years on the planet earth did that. None of which, really shook him. Though, he found his hand clenching around the railing of his own private staircase, as he watched a slender girl mess about in the kitchen.

"Mess" being the operative term, Aoshi overlooked the remnants of what looked like failed attempts - yes, plural - at making an omelet. He went completely unnoticed, and sat himself down on the stairs, to simply watch. It wasn't that he had never seen a woman in the kitchen before, it was just never this particular one. In all honesty, it had been a rather long time since he'd seen it, and it struck some chord within him. Strangely captivated, Aoshi wondered what in the blue name of the heavens did she think she was doing… specifically to his kitchen. Aoshi simply found nothing more enjoyable than to sit on his stair, and remain a spectator to the circus down below. No expression on his face, he didn't even raise an eyebrow.

*-*-*-*

"Yosh!" Misao became her own personal cheering squad. Somehow, through the battle with the skillet, and the wars with eggshells, she'd managed to not only make the omelet, but leave her uniform… reasonably unscathed.

Her plan, as spontaneously cooked up as it had been, was to show her appreciation to Aoshi for accompanying her today. 'And yesterday.' He was quite the handsome distraction, indeed. Of course, she would have much preferred to make something like pancakes, but soon discovered that Aoshi hadn't made them out of a box as she had originally assumed. Though it was her favorite breakfast, the meal was not being prepared for her, and… well, it was easier to work with the things she could find.

Sufficiently repressing all of the memories of the last day or so, she glanced at the kitchen clock over her shoulder. Promptly she 'eeped,' as her exploits had taken all of another fifteen minutes. Time sure flew when you were being destructive - thankful. Quickly setting the table, she stood behind the head of the table. There was something about making the silverware perfectly square that absorbed her thoughts, making her nearly bolt across the room when a soft low voice crept over her shoulder.

"Ohayou, Misao-chan."

*-*-*-*

Some martial artist she was, then again, Aoshi would excuse her inattentiveness due to yestermorning's turn of events. He could easily feel the heat of her body from where he was standing, and wondered how long he would have to stand there before he was noticed. Today, he had found it fitting to wear a jacket to go along with his dress slacks, and a stunning cobalt tie. He was going to be a 'parent' after all.

Part of him internally winced. Was he really *that* old?

"Ohayou, Misao-chan," he merely stated, as though he had not been watching her busy herself in the kitchen for the last ten minutes or so. Aoshi merely stood over her as he watched every nerve in her body simultaneously quiver and then stiffen. What had possessed him to scare the living daylights out of her was lost on him, as he hadn't quite caught on to the definition of 'fun,' yet. But he was learning.

===

Author's Note:

I know, I know. You all must be *DYING* to hear from me by now. Heh - just kidding. Anyway, I just thought I'd clear the air a bit about the pairings in this fic… 'cause obviously people are having problems, and I, myself, am as well.

This fic was never… *ever* intended to be a Sano/Misao fic. (Please, restrain yourselves… ^-^;) I find myself in somewhat of a bind here, because I'm trying to develop now the third point in this bizarre love triangle, but it doesn't really look like many people want me to. (Tough noogies.) I am having two problems with this because… a) I can make it helluva lot easier on me if I just took the easy route and wrote it as a Sano/Misao. That way, I could please what seems to be the majority of my readers, and prevent the fic from becoming too long; b) I most recently watched the episode in the anime where Aoshi smiles… and found it so unbelievably disturbing, not to mention outright frightening, that I am actually discouraged to have him do it in the fic. It just looks weird - and it's disturbing enough that he actually looks *bad* in a kimono.

My answer to problem "a" is simply… well, I'm going to write it the way I wanted to write it to the best of my ability (as I am currently harbored by problem "b")in the first place, regardless of the toes I step on in the interim. I have yet to find a solution to problem "b" - anybody with any suggestions, please, feel free.