Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Curl ❯ Chapter 21

Author's Note:

The physics teacher is Hiko Seijurou… or Seijurou Hiko, I'm not quite sure. I suspect, but I could be wrong, that Hiko is his last name. (But I just can't call him Mr. Hiko, or just plain Seijurou… that would just be weird, so he's Hiko-sensei, got it? ^_^;) The other name he introduced himself as was his alias in the series to hide his identity. Soujirou Seta is someone entirely different. (For the purposes of this story, Seta is Misao's boyfriend from high school… so there's kind of a huge difference. ^_^;)

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The ballet room of the school was tucked away in a smaller building on the campus, along with the other dance and music classrooms. The floor was hardwood, and a railing lined the wall, and it looked like there were several free-standing ones lined up against the wall. The walls were mirrors, which made it just a tad creepy. If you weren't on your best behavior there was simply no way of *not* getting caught. For today, there were rows of folding chairs assembled, and the instructor stood in the forefront, giving an overview on what the class would entail and how to contact her.

Of course, neither Misao nor Aoshi seemed to care. Both were too engrossed in their own thoughts. Misao was wondering why she had chemistry instead of physics, and if it would be hard to transfer. Aoshi was wondering if the school had a history of molesting faculty, and if he could somehow use this to his advantage. He didn't like the look of that Seijuro character, if for no other reason than it seemed he had nothing better to do with his time than to fondle the shoulders of young girls. Of course, Aoshi couldn't have possibly been overreacting.

The instructor was handing out sheets of paper, much like some of the others… all with requirements for the course. Misao had expected this, and much to her pleasure, the word "tutu" was nowhere to be seen. If she had to have worn one, she would've drawn the line right then and there. What did surprise Misao was that the instructor had stopped, and stood over her, as if inspecting her like a fine grade meat. Aoshi seemed curious to what the teacher was doing as well, and hoped that this wouldn't be *another* one he'd have to worry about.

"Your hair, miss…" The ballet teacher bent down and gently took the tip of the dangling braid between her fingers, "… is too long."

*-*-*-*

Misao's eyebrow twitched. As a matter of fact, so did her fist. She managed to remain seated, as she ground out, "… pardon?"

"Well, I certainly cannot ask that you cut it… but it may be troublesome and get in the way…" The teacher obviously meant no offense, but some had been made. The woman, not too old herself, leaned back and stroked her chin. "… are you able to wrap it up into a bun or something?"

'Into a PASTRY?' Last thing she needed was to be teased in comparison to a food, it was bad enough that she was called a weasel. She was about to retort, when a hand rested onto her shoulder and a smooth clear voice rumbled beside her.

"I'm sure she'll manage, Ms. Myoujin."

*-*-*-*

As entertaining as all of this was, Aoshi could feel Misao slowly lose whatever self-control she had left. She wanted to hurt something, and hurt it *now*, and that just wouldn't do. The last thing he needed was for some tabloid to capture him with some rabid weasel girl on the rampage.

'Oh yes, Daddy would just love that,' the corner of his mind spat. In those terms, it was almost tempting to let her loose. The other part of his mind was concerned with other things… like failing at his task. Jiya had entrusted this girl to him, as he had so many years ago. In place of mere minutes, he would have to deal for the next year. Aoshi would have to endure, and what better time than the present.

"I'm sure she'll manage, Ms. Myoujin," or she'll damn well have to. Odds were, Jiya put her in ballet for a reason… perhaps because it was the closest thing to kempo in the whole curricula of the school. The self-defense classes were probably far below Misao's true potential, and it was becoming painfully evident by her run-ins with inanimate objects that she needed to fine tune her skills. Aoshi, if necessary, could still mentor her in kempo, but ballet could honestly work hand in hand. However, he wouldn't be caught dead in dance classes, and he highly doubted Sanosuke would either.

*-*-*-*

"Ah… AHH…" Pause. "AH-CHOO!.. Sonofa…" Sanosuke roughly wiped his nose on his sleeve as his nostrils filled with the overpowering fumes of "nature fresh scent." So his room was clean, amazingly enough. If he only had a camera, for it would never… ever be this clean again.

'…because I'm never pulling a stunt like THAT again, that's for sure…' He wasn't quite sure if he was thinking about one-night stands or one-night stands with Misao as a witness. Either way, something wasn't going to happen again, because he sure as hell didn't want to see a damn cleaning detergent, liquid, spray, or appliance for the rest of his godforsaken life. At least, if it wasn't a shower or a sink… those he could live with.

Frankly, the rest of the world would have to revoke his global citizenship if he decided to swear off bathing.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi didn't think ballet went as badly as it could have. Nothing was broken, bent, or needed to be replaced. He was hoping to leave this place with some shred of dignity. It didn't help that even the students looked at him like he was a piece of meat; it was the teachers that worsened the situation tenfold. Why was he here again?

The answer was sitting next to him in full pout. The etiquette teacher seemed to be running late. Misao was fingering the tip of her plait, slouched down in her chair. There was *some* modesty in her posture, or lack there of, as her knees were together… however, her heels were far apart, since her toes made a halfhearted attempt to face one another. She was grumbling something that sounded like a curse. She obviously didn't want to be here. Aoshi leaned back on his elbow on the back of his chair, lazily propping his heel onto his knee, glancing behind him to see if there was any sign of a teacher coming. They looked like a pair of bored teenagers… which would have only been half right.

Now they were both martial artists, however, neither of them (even Aoshi) saw what was coming next.

*-*-*-*

"SIT UP STRAIGHT!" a shrill cry came from their left, as a ruler cracked loudly onto the table. Aoshi didn't jolt, much, and straightened his posture neatly. Misao, on the other hand, was sitting stiffly and pale. Had he been willing to risk being yelled at again in front of an audience, he would've glanced over as the teacher mussed with Misao. "No, like this… and here, put this hand here… and cross your legs for pity's sake!"

Misao was trying to follow all the directions at once, almost tripping herself out of her chair. Once she got her act together, and vaguely resembled what the teacher wanted, the woman leaned back and looked over the younger one with a narrowed gaze.

"This just simply won't do, tsk tsk tsk…" Misao pouted at her teacher's back as she walked to the front of the room. The other girls were stifling their giggles behind little daintily covered mouths, and snickering to one another at Misao's expense. A deep rumbling growl came from her throat, as she glared daggers at her educating adversary. "Young ladies!" The woman turned around to face them suddenly, clapping her hands together once. "Welcome to Eastern and Western Etiquette… some of you are here because you want to learn, and some are here because they need to be here…"

Aoshi didn't miss that the teacher stared right at Misao, nor did he miss the way she was suspiciously eyeing him as well. Hell, he wasn't a student; he didn't have to take this from her. However, he knew there was something odd about this particular teacher was strange, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why. His hands folded on the desk top, and he just couldn't shake this feeling that perhaps he knew her from somewhere. It was something, that's for sure.

"In this class we'll be studying…" and the rant started again, just like it had every other class. Neither Aoshi nor Misao were listening. Aoshi was still trying to place this woman, having as much difficult as Sano would with one of his trollops. Misao was trying to find a way to get away with throttling the woman.

She was beautiful, Aoshi had to admit honestly. Or at the very least, she was a looker. Her features were delicate, and her movement was graceful as though she were walking on a bed of rose petals and feared to muss a single one. Her hair was short, and framed her heart shaped face, and occasionally she had a feline-like quality cross her lips. Particularly, he saw this when she looked over in Aoshi's general direction. He then noticed, he was the only man in the room. Her laugh was soft and cheerful, and hidden politely behind a slender hand.

"Oh you must forgive *my* manners…" The girls shared a soft giggle, which was alright since the teacher was snickering as well. "I have yet to introduce myself… For the rest of your term here, you will be under the tutelage of no other than Honjou Kamatari." There was a collective "ah," with a couple awed "ooo"s.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi KNEW that name. This was getting very unsettling. First that… that SCIENCE teacher, and now this woman. He could only narrow it down to being several years ago, but he just couldn't figure where. There was just something so definitely familiar. He sat unphased as usual, but his consciousness was raping his mind right now to sort this all out. Maybe he *should* have let Sano come. This school was just… bizarre.

'He would've hit on her by now,' and that was the truth. Or she would've hit on him, in the same visual stripping she was giving him. Aoshi swallowed inconspicuously as she came closer. There was something almost frightening about her nearing proximity. Dammit what *was* it?

"Mister Shinomori. Did you have a question?" Ms. Honjou's eyebrow rose, her tongue gracing her ruby red lips, as she rested a hand on the desk in front of him, and she leaned closer to him to gaze at eye level. Had she been wearing something with more cleavage, he would've had quite the eyeful. But thankfully, she was wearing a tasteful off the shoulder canoe neck cashmere sweater. It was a soft lavender shade, draped over her hips over a plain black knee length skirt, with a single loose gold band that drifted off of her waist that Aoshi assumed was some sort of pseudo-belt. She didn't give Misao a second glance, only a muted breathless sigh escaped her lips towards Aoshi, although the younger girl next to him was about to explode.

The dynamite in question shot her hand up in the air, waving madly to be called on. The little firecracker was balling her other hand into a fist in her lap, her legs crossed almost painfully. Her thighs were flexing against one another to prevent herself from bolting up and getting in trouble… again. She'd totally switch this class for physics, most definitely.

Ms. Honjou seemed to ignore Misao for a solid minute. The entire class was engrossed in the interaction. Then as suddenly as she appeared before them, she turned away. The teacher's fingertips caressed the polished wood trim of the desk and then nodded to one of the girls across the room.

"That… ladies. Is *not* how you are to present yourself to men," she smiled coyly, soliciting more giggles from the girls in the class, or at least… from all of them except our pig-tailed TNT. Misao's face was turning red with fury, and her hand was still in the air, and being ignored. Ms. Honjou seemed to look around the whole class, inspecting everyone's disposition, carefully missing Misao. "Does anyone else have any questions?... anyone at all?"

Misao had just about had it with this lady. She was going to ship her to Mars in a body bag, yeah. Her normally happy shining eyes were narrowed and glinting with a murderous gaze, her teeth almost audibly grounding together. That small foot of hers had gotten into a habit of tapping rather obnoxiously on the floor, demanding the attention her mouth would not aloud.

"… oh. Yes. You there, with the braid," the teacher's voice was flat and condescending. Ms. Honjou looked not terribly amused and bored by the whole thing. 'The whole thing' was, of course, being Misao's entire existence in this classroom.

Misao's hand slowly drifted down to the desk, resting palm down. Her head was lowered, and a red aura could almost be seen flaming from her features. She was looking oddly subdued, and she took a deep cleansing breath. Her mouth opened again, her head raised to glare at the woman at the head of the classroom and as she was about to let herself loose-!

"Oh well! It looks like that's it for today!" Ms. Honjou clapped her hands again, and her face was smiling ear to ear. Misao's countenance cracked, and she looked dumbfounded for a bit, her mouth lagging open. Her head drooped to the side in some sense of defeat. Aoshi, intently watched the whole exchange, mostly to see if he could see some hint of why this woman was so familiar.

The rest of the class was ushered out by the teacher, who just before leaving, turned around and locked her gaze with Aoshi. For a brief moment there was no one else in the world except those two… Even the deadpanned Misao had blended into the background.

It was that next telling gesture that had done it… the mystery had then been cracked wide open.

Kamatari held up one hand, and it floated just an inch away from those red sultry lips, and then the middle and ring fingers folded down into that slender palm, tucking them from view. Aoshi, if possible, paled… he knew what was coming. There was no outward sign of fear, but there was a mental shiver that was coiling through his veins.

'No… way,' the color ran out of Misao's entire being. Ms. Honjou had just licked her pinky finger, her lips jumping the gap over to her pointer finger and blew a kiss at Aoshi off its tip. Had anyone in that room cared to notice or care, Misao's jaw hit the floor.

… Aoshi hadn't moved from his spot, and neither had Misao, though the teacher in question had disappeared. 'Oh shit.' He knew exactly where he knew Honjou Kamatari from. There was no mistaking it… no woman - no person made that gesture except for…

… his roommate from boarding school.

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Author's Note:

I've been waiting to use that gesture, and Kamatari just seemed like the one to do it. *_* Arigatou Honjou-san. Anno, I seemed to have left Sano out this chapter, gomen nasai. ^_^;