Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Curl ❯ Chapter 23

Aoshi did his best to blend into the wall. He was standing outside of St. Catharine's now, waiting for Misao. The young woman had excused herself to go to the bathroom, and he told her he'd wait outside. She, of course, had no reason to question. He thanked the gods for that.

What the hell was that woman doing here? And she had brought her daughter no less. Tsubame was going to be Misao's classmate. Obviously, his life hadn't been enough hell as it went thus far, that the powers that be had to make it *that* much more painstaking. There must have been some sin he'd committed by simply being born.

Most men, he supposed, held a soft spot for their 'first.' Or, at the very least, they got hard up. Aoshi, on the other hand, had no such notions running through his head. The only thing he wanted to do now was get the hell away from that place as soon as humanly possible. He hadn't known fear for many years, and this wasn't it. It just happened that the entire campus was an erected shrine to his torment, and given the option, he did not want to be there.

It couldn't get worse - oh wait, no… it could.

He could smell her perfume as it slowly drifted around the corner. Her footsteps were nearing, not alone, no. She had her daughter with her, of course. Absentmindedly, he'd also noted the absence of a ring on her finger. 'No surprises there.' Aoshi buried his hands into his pockets, leaning casually against the wall, as though at ease with the world. One leg seemed lazily crossed over the other, and of course he would pretend he hadn't noticed her coming. Of course he wouldn't notice the way she gasped, and stopped.

Could he have ever forgotten the way her eyes traveled his body as they had so many years ago? He could nearly hear Tsubame's brow knit. She must have known by now. When the whole "fiasco" had gone down, and the reputable Ms. Sanjou had been revealed to the school board by a scorned colleague, Tsubame had been far too young to understand. Sometimes, even now, Aoshi couldn't comprehend what happened after that.

'She's Misao's age,' he turned his head, as if just noticing that the rest of the world existed. He straightened, and bowed cordially to the pair+. She would've been eight years old when her mother's career bit the dust. His teeth bit down, as if he were trapping his emotions behind an iron clad jaw. Tsubame looked well, for this he was thankful. No child was born into the world deserving a useless mother.

If he hadn't, then this innocent girl couldn't have.

*-*-*-*

She had recognized him instantly. Her mother had, she knew. When Tsubame looked at her mother, walking hand in hand, she saw the way her skin had paled. Her smile was forced, and her fingers trembled. Tsubame was quiet, and said nothing.

It had been so long ago, but everything had to come full circle.

Strangely, even though she had to witness to a messy divorce, sloppy custody battles… Their family even had to move to stop them from being hassled by tabloids and the press. Between the ages of eight and ten, she'd switched to two - no, three different schools. All of the other kids knew, because all of their parents knew. Everyone knew.

Tsubame, however, was surprisingly at peace. It had always been made clear to her that this was her mother's problem, and honestly had nothing to do with her. She hadn't been a bad daughter, nor some long forsaken accident. There was no hate for her mother when it came to the rotary door she held on relationships, or for the constant harassment of photographers climbing over the fences of their home. She did not hate her mother for the embarrassment of being the child of a convicted pedophile. No, Tsubame did not hate her mother for any of these things.

There was only one reason she hated her mother.

Her own mother, flesh and blood, had stolen her first love. And like in all the fairytales, as fractured as they became in reality, there he stood.

*-*-*-*

"Tsubame-chan," his smooth voice greeted the younger girl steadily. His gaze fell upon Ms. Sanjou like a blind man who had lost his dark glasses. Aoshi saw right through her as he had when he was a child.

"Aoshi-senpai, ohayo…" Tsubame bowed as well, for he still managed to make her blush. There were no bad feelings between Aoshi and Tsubame, for if anything, they had more in common than most people in this world. However, the mother was another story. It was a silent contract of understanding that was written the last time they had seen each other all those many years ago.

"It has been a long time, Aoshi," her lack of formality struck him, like he wanted to strike her. How dare she…

"Aa. You've grown beautifully, Tsubame-chan," he regarded her with a slight nod. Aoshi didn't make it a habit of crawling under people's skin for spite, but for some reason it felt like sport with this woman. Perhaps, if all those years ago, she hadn't seen him for more than skin, he wouldn't have been compelled to treat her less than dirt. He almost wanted to smile the way Tsubame's mother opened her mouth to speak, but it seemed to fail her. The way her eyes flared with brief anger, and then drowned in defeat, well, if he were a dancer, he might just have done so now.

"… A-arigato gozaimasu, Aoshi-senpai!" The young girl sputtered, smiling sheepishly. She, too, was in the uniform of the school; her hair was neatly cut just beneath her chin. A quite voice crept over his shoulder from the abandoned woman.

*-*-*-*

"… Ohayo, Shinomori-san." That was better, and she must've realized this when he actually regarded her this time. He obviously wasn't going to make this easy, least of all, on her. Taking a deep breath, she wondered if her psychiatrist was free later today.

"Sanjou-san. You're not here to teach, I take it?" His voice rose and fell as if he were just like any man, who expressed feelings and emotions. It was almost patronizing. He knew as well as she that she could never teach or counsel ever again. Her reputation had been marred beyond repair, when more than two dozen different accounts had been found by the media. They didn't care if not all of them were true or not, just that they had something to publish. She would never stop paying, never. She could see it in his unseeing eyes.

"No, I'm afraid not," she kept her smile up for those agonizing couple of seconds where she paused, "Tsubame-chan has been attending St. Catharine's for most of high school, haven't you sweetie?"

Tsubame nodded as her mother's hand fell upon her shoulder, "It's a very nice school… The girl you came with, she's new, ne? I'm sure she'll get used to it…"

*-*-*-*

Misao rounded the corner, almost smacking into the back of some woman who was talking to Aoshi. Hey, it was that girl who was sitting behind them in Home Ec. They knew Aoshi, too?! Her eyes narrowed automatically, as her hands fisted over the grips on her backpack. Her shit list was booting up on the forefront of her mind, and her nerves were tapping at her keyboard of anxieties ready to input…

"… she's new, ne? I'm sure she'll get used to it…" The pigtailed girl suddenly shrank back sheepishly. It had been that obvious, huh?

'Get used to it. Sure. My female teachers hitting on Aoshi-sama… Aoshi-sama threatening my male teachers… yep, just everyday stuff in the world of Makimachi Misao…' Her mental banter was cut off by his voice.

"Ready?" She nodded dumbly, since he was looking right at her. She failed to notice when the divinities above decided the universe would become Misao-centric. Aoshi only nodded in reply, he brushed past the two ladies in front of Misao, and walked ahead. Misao was left with two strange women looking after Aoshi's retreating back, and then they focused on her. Not knowing what else to do, she just bowed and went after Aoshi. His long legs had this odd tendency of leaving her behind. On that note…

'… he is some piece of work…' Misao's head snapped up from ogling Aoshi's rear when he turned the corner. Surprisingly, she remained quiet. Not because of lack of questions, but the poor girl didn't know where to start. It wasn't any mystery to why Aoshi seemed to attract so much attention, but it was a problem when it interfered with her academic career. Or, at least, this is what she told herself, reasoning her fury.

They'd been walking for quite a few blocks, crossing a couple of streets before she realized something.

This was definitely *not* the way home.