Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ In Penance ❯ One-Final ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Western Ink 
Aoshi gets drunk, but it isn’t games or strange behavior or fun sexiness that ensues. Gloom visits the Aoiya as everyone discovers why Aoshi doesn’t drink. AxM
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Drama / Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 03.26.2005 | Pages: 11 | Words: 8.1K | Visits: 1.1K | Status: Completed
Aoshi gets drunk, but it isn’t games or strange behavior or fun sexiness that ensues. Gloom visits the Aoiya as everyone discovers why Aoshi doesn’t drink. AxM
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Drama / Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 03.26.2005 | Pages: 11 | Words: 8.1K | Visits: 1.1K | Status: Completed
In Penance
Author: Western Ink
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst/Romance
Pairing: AxM
Disclaimer: I do not own RK.
* * * *
Summary: Shinobi Love’s March challenge. Aoshi gets drunk, but it isn’t games or strange behavior or fun sexiness that ensues. Gloom visits the Aoiya as everyone discovers why Aoshi doesn’t drink.
* * * * The celebratory atmosphere of the Aoiya gave way to more burdensome emotions come the next morning. The trash needed disposed of and the tables needed scrubbing, but it wasn’t the cleaning that caused the somber faces.
There had been no mistaking the grunting and heavy panting and shrill female cries emanating from Aoshi’s room the previous night. No, everyone had heard those.
It hadn’t gone on for hours but the little “sessions” had been recurring and frequent enough and loud enough to be bothersome.
The problem was not that Aoshi had brought a woman home, or the fact he’d taken the said woman to his room. The problem was that Misao had heard the sounds too.
An unknown woman had escaped the Aoiya at dawn, but Aoshi was still holed up in his room, as was Misao. Stillness had overtaken the upstairs floors.
Total silence filled the usually bouncy restaurant. No one seemed to know what to say or do.
It was plain enough that Aoshi had had company and it wasn’t Misao he’d… well… had.
The ever-present question was: how was she going to deal with it?
* * * *
Sick.
She felt sick.
That was the best way to describe the heavy, disgusting feeling that was weighing her down.
She didn’t even want to eat. How could she eat, feeling like this? Like she’d toss it all up before it even got to her stomach?
How could he?
How… How could he?
She wasn’t that naïve; she knew men had… lusts… But still!
To … To…!
To bring a woman to the Aoiya!?
And then to make so much noise? So… So… blatantly?
As though to advertise it, to shove it in her face, Misao-I’m-not-interested-in-you. It was just downright… cruel.
She couldn’t bring herself to cry. She couldn’t get over the sick feeling. The heavy, unbearable foreboding… just…grossness.
She had never in her life felt so…
Weak and vulnerable, and from nothing more than hearing him with another woman.
It was as astonishing to her how much this made her feel raw inside as it did repulse her.
The sounds of his being intimate with another woman cut her open, straight down the center. She felt like she never wanted to look him in the face again.
Never.
Somehow she just knew this was Okina’s fault. He was always involved in stupid things like this; knowing him that perverted man was probably laughing amused at it all.
She scowled and pulled her favorite blanket around her shoulders.
Were all men like this?
Was one woman just as good as another?
Was that it?
She bit her lip anxiously; she didn’t know what to think.
* * * *
Aoshi groaned and held his painful, throbbing head. How the hell had he let Okina talk him into drinking when he had no tolerance?
He was going to kill that old man one of these days in one of his drunken blackouts and not remember a thing.
He sighed and stumbled from his room just shy of noon. The Aoiya was quiet, but he could hear the patrons bustling and chatting out front.
He took the side door out and wandered toward the Temple. Maybe some peace and quiet without the heavy scent of alcohol would do him some good.
Absently, as he left the Aoiya, he wondered where Misao was. He hadn’t heard her or anything so far that day, but he’d been in and out of sleep all morning. Somehow, he always ended up wondering something about her.
He needed fresh air.
* * * *
Omasu and Okon exchanged conspiratorial whispers. “I just can’t believe it!”
“I know… Why would he do such a thing? He could have at least done it outside the Aoiya, away from Misao…”
“I haven’t heard a peep from her all day.”
“I wonder if we should go see her, bring her some soup?”
“Good afternoon!”
The two women turned to see Okina in the doorway. He was grinning like a mad cat, but his expression dimmed when they continued to frown.
“What’s the problem?”
“Weren’t you here last night?” Omasu asked, not recalling having seen the old man after dinner.
He shook his head. “Aoshi and I went out for a couple of drinks.”
Okon growled, glaring at him. He was the one responsible for this? “Drinks? You mean to say Aoshi got drunk with you last night?”
Okina stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Drunk? No, I wouldn’t say so. He was standing upright and talking well. We only shared two bottles.”
“TWO bottles? Do you know what he did?” Omasu shrieked.
Okon tugged on Omasu’s sleeve to quiet her as not to announce the entire event to the customers in the next room.
Omasu quieted, but the venom in her voice was just as deadly. “He brought a woman back here last night and made all sorts of racket for hours.”
Okina laughed, clearly delighted. “Good boy.”
Omasu whacked him on the head, hard, with a tofu bucket.
“Misao has not emerged from her room all day!”
Okina stilled suddenly as though realizing why it was a bad thing Aoshi had a woman to entertain him the previous evening.
“Ah… I see, I see. Quite badly done of him.”
“Drunk men have no sense!” Okon chided. “Which is your fault! You owe Misao an apology!”
With a heavy sigh, Okina turned and made his way toward Misao’s room.
There was no answer.
Puzzled, he slid the door open, but the room appeared to be empty.
He slid the door closed once more and quietly retreated downstairs.
My, what troubles the young ones were, he thought as he settled himself at his table.
* * * *
Misao curled up in her closet with a blanket, brooding.
How dare he?
If he was going to be so crude and insensitive then… then.. she didn’t want to see him anymore. Someone else could bring him his tea. Someone else could politely inform him that dinner was done. Someone else could do the shopping and pick up his favorite items. Someone else could sit with him and chat about all the things he missed.
Someone else.
Yeah…
Maybe that cheap slut he’d brought to his room could do those things for him, she thought bitterly.
She hadn’t assumed he was a virgin, but she hadn’t actively thought about him out there sexing other women! That was just wrong!
She’d thought she knew him better than anyone else, but maybe that wasn’t so. Maybe she only thought she knew him. Maybe she only knew him from her star-struck little world where he was perfect and… she sighed.
But a better question than that, if she was willing to part from him so easily, maybe she didn’t love him after all…
Would a woman leave the man she loved simply because he had made a mistake?
Was it a mistake at all?
Why would he bring a woman back here this way?
Why would he do it exactly across the hall from her?
Why?
She couldn’t stay in her room forever, but she could stay there long enough to avoid him. She knew his schedule well enough. She probably knew it better than anyone did. Which is what she intended to do.
Her battered heart and sense of self couldn’t take a run-in with him just yet.
* * * *
Come dinnertime Omasu and Okon were getting more distraught. Omasu found Okina at his table reading and she whacked him on the head with a nearby book, angrily.
“Where is she?”
He rubbed his head with a frown. “I do not know, her room was empty.”
“You useless, old man! What are you going to tell her? This is all your fault!”
He sighed again as though she were troubling him and she stomped away when he didn’t answer. This time, toward the stair case.
She knocked on Misao’s door and received no answer, but she was beyond the point of politeness. She invited herself in and peered about.
She knew Misao had to be in here. Why would she have left the Aoiya?
“Misao?”
She caught sight of the slightly ajar closet door and felt her anger perish. A stifling sense of grief waved over her…Had Misao retreated to her closet?
The last time Misao had curled herself up in the closet was the day after she’d discovered Aoshi had left the Aoiya for good without her. Ages and ages ago, Misao had been a child then, but the hurt had been devastating.
She’d cried for days, she wouldn’t eat, she didn’t want to talk to anyone…
Omasu slid the door open, hoping she didn’t find the younger girl there, but when she caught sight of a hint of blue fabric, Misao’s favorite blanket, all her hopes were dashed.
This was bad.
This wasn’t going to be fixed with an apology of any kind. The combined riches of the world weren’t going to heal this hurt.
Omasu slid the door open and knelt down in the doorway of the closet. She met Misao’s heartbroken blue green eyes and felt tears prick her own.
“Misao…I’m so sorry.”
What else could she say?
Misao just shook her head and didn’t say anything. Tears hung on the girl’s lashes, but didn’t fall.
Omasu’s lip trembled as her own tears escaped and once they did, Misao broke and threw herself into Omasu’s arms.
* * * *
Dinner was a quiet affair and conversation was strained. Misao was missing altogether, Aoshi had been late and Omasu’s face was pink and her eyes looked the same. Aoshi peered at her with curiosity, but didn’t question, in fact, he noted Misao’s absence with even more interest, but also, said nothing.
Okina attempted to lighten the mood of the heavy meal and failed, several times over. When dinner ended, Aoshi retreated to his room, right across from Misao’s, and the others set about cleaning up.
Okina dragged his old bones up the stairs and knocked upon Misao’s door, but the girl inside refused to answer.
Across the hall, however, Aoshi’s door slid open. He eyed the old man standing there with curiosity.
“Is she ill?”
“I would be a much happier man if she were,” Okina admitted. “Do you not know what has upset her?”
Aoshi stared at him blankly. “No.”
The old man stared at him astonished. “Ah, of course, I forgot. You blackout when you get drunk.”
His laughter was sharp and bitter and harsh in the quiet confines of the hall.
“I’ve upset her then?”
Okina nodded. “I would say you should apologize, but she is not currently on speaking terms with anyone but Omasu and Okon, it seems. Give her a day or two; I think she will come around.”
Okina began to totter away when Aoshi’s voice stopped him.
“What did I do?”
Okina turned back and pinned a firm stare on the younger male. “That, Aoshi, I am not willing to believe you do not know. There must be some indication of what happened in there. It should be easy to figure out then, why it was …unwise and why Misao is upset about it.”
Aoshi watched him go before he turned and stepped back into his room. He repressed the desire he had to try to get Misao to open her door. He would leave her to her peace, she obviously didn’t want to see him and he’d obviously done something to deserve it.
After all, she hadn’t come to bring him tea or to tell him dinner was prepared. Typically, she came early and he walked back with her and when they arrived, dinner was done.
Today, that hadn’t happened.
When he finally realized she wasn’t coming, he’d had to come back alone, puzzled over her absence.
Now as he stared about his room, he wondered what it was that could’ve happened here that upset Misao.
There appeared to be nothing out of order, nothing missing, nothing broken…
He was in the process of shifting the futon he had neglected to roll up when something clinked against the wooden floorboards. He reached beneath the matting and withdrew a polished wooden hair stick with jade colored beads on the end.
Hair accessories… why the hell were…
His mouth went dry.
No way…
He hadn’t really done… that?
He hadn’t visited a house of pleasure and brought one “home” with him since the days he’d traveled with Hannya and the others.
He didn’t get drunk for a reason, when he did there was one thing he wanted: women.
Surely, he hadn’t…
He stood up, but was lost, totally confused.
What was he supposed to do?
He stared at the stick in his hand.
Evidence.
He could break it or burn it, but it didn’t matter. He could bury it beneath the floorboards and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.
The hair stick wasn’t causing the problem, it had been the woman that the hair stick belonged to and Misao already knew.
Would she forgive him for this?
He was not married to her, he was not obligated to answer to her, and yet…
He was obligated to answer to her, because she was all he had. If he lost Misao, what else was there?
Would Okina bring him tea in the morning? Scratch that, did he want Okina bringing him tea?
He squeezed the wooden stick in his hand and snapped it against his palm.
This was bad.
* * * *
For two days, Misao avoided Aoshi by keeping to her bedroom. She chatted briefly with Okon and Omasu and ignored Okina altogether. The old man was becoming discouraged with her continued snubs.
On the third day, Misao emerged from her room only after Aoshi had left her for the Temple. She dressed herself in a kimono, unable to put her ninja uniform on. It reminded her too much, suddenly, of the men’s uniform and she was protesting men.
Instead, she donned a blue colored kimono and headed on downstairs at about mid-morning. Aoshi was gone, she’d heard him leave herself. The stairs were well put together and creak free, but Okina heard her nonetheless as she entered the room.
“Ah, there you are my darling.”
She turned her nose up at him and his face fell. “I’m not talking to you.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
She sat down at the table a couple of places away. “Because you’re a man and this is somehow all your fault!”
He paused. “Misao…” he started, but a sharp glare from her stopped him cold.
“I’m not talking to you. You can’t deny this mess is your fault, I know it is and I don’t even know what happened yet.”
He smiled. “Precisely, my dear. Which is why you should let me explain myself.”
“No! You’re a man and men lie, you couldn’t be believed anyway.”
His mouth snapped closed at that. “What? Misao, now you’re just being silly…”
She glared at him. “There’s nothing silly about it. You just do whatever you want… one girl is as good as another, what do faces and names matter?”
He was taken aback. “Mis-“
She stood up and left the room.
Misao wandered to the kitchen and then out, drifting.
She wished Megumi were here.
This wasn’t a Kaoru problem, Kaoru was too… well, it didn’t matter what she was.
Megumi at least was older, seemed to have more world experience. Maybe she would have some helpful advice or wisdom or…
Misao sighed.
She walked along the streets until she found a set of stairs and sat herself.
How could he just… be intimate with a stranger so easily?
She couldn’t do that.
She couldn’t pick up a guy at the bar and just let him … use her.
Didn’t the woman matter to him? Was every woman just a vessel for pleasure? She cringed.
Eewww…
That even sounded gross.
What was wrong with him?
What was wrong with men?
Were they flawed or something?
Broken?
The sound of rapid footfalls and hurried breaths drew her head up. Someone was coming.
She glanced back to see Okon leaning on a fence, panting.
“Misao! I was looking for you.”
Misao stood and walked toward Okon. “Why? Something happen?”
“No. We were a bit busy, but I was just worried about you. Okina said you made a few remarks to him; I thought maybe you’d want to talk?”
Misao glanced toward the busier street up ahead. “How can they do that, Okon?”
She linked her arm with the younger girl’s and they began to walk toward the Aoiya.
“How can they just hop from one girl to another? They do that, right? They have the pleasure quarters, I know about all that stuff. They don’t even care if it’s the same girl or not, just a warm, female body. That’s not wrong, is it? That’s what they do, isn’t it?”
Okon sighed. “Men aren’t like women, Misao. They’re different.”
“Obviously,” Misao snapped. “I wouldn’t have brought a man home for sex.”
Okon took a discreet glance around, but no one seemed to have heard her comment. If they had, they were politely ignoring them.
Okon quickly ushered her toward the Aoiya.
“Men are like… They have more of a physical want for that kind of thing. Women desire the closeness, the intimacy.”
Misao shot her a look. “You trying to tell me women don’t like sex?”
Okon blanched. “I’m not saying that, but it wouldn’t be the same for you if you got Aoshi-sama or a random guy off the corner, right? That’s the difference.”
* * * *
The answer was unsuitable and Misao’s feelings toward the situation took a nosedive.
“No. Misao…” he started and was abruptly cut off when she snapped at him.
“If it isn’t the same, explain it to me!”
The temple was no safe haven. Misao had brought and made him tea, but he hadn’t yet drunk from it yet. She had set right in demanding an explanation of something that was completely beyond his ability to explain to her. He wanted to explain it, he wanted to apologize for offending and hurting her, but…
“You’ve misunderstood.”
“I think I understand perfectly well,” she exclaimed. “The world is full of animals masquerading themselves as human men.”
He opened his mouth to contest the assertion, but she was already at and then beyond the doorway, stomping away.
Outside, clouds hovered in the sky.
It had been overcast all day.
He sat for a few moments longer staring at the rising column of steam from his teacup. He could not even blame Okina for this error; the man had not forced the alcohol down his throat.
It was not Misao’s view of the world he was worrying over. Her ranting and raving and exclamations were animated and angry, but that was to be expected.
It was the haunted look in her eyes that was bothering him, the deep, scored marks that seemed to have been trenched into her. It wasn’t some bitter anger that had caused her fiery outbursts but a hurt; a festering wound that he’d caused her.
It was a betrayal of trust, something he’d never intended to do to her. It was not a passing mistake or the offense of a stranger. It was an injury to Misao.
All for a night of passing physical pleasure he remembered nothing of. There was not even a black haze, there was simply nothing. It was time gone from him, stolen by his intolerance for alcohol.
What did Misao think of such things? Did she think about them? Did she desire such physical closeness with someone? Did she desire that with him?
He was almost afraid to think of it. Afraid he might be tempted by such fantasies.
And yet…
He’d looked at her and wondered.
But did he want that?
He stood, grabbing the Aoiya dishes and slowly began to walk back toward home.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to let Misao have her time alone. Perhaps he should have spoken to her immediately.
He should never have allowed her to sit alone and let the bad feelings boil.
* * * *
She stood by the window at the Aoiya glaring up at the sky. Would it rain? She wanted it to rain. She felt like rain.
She didn’t hear the footsteps or sense his presence before strong hands slid around her waist, pulling her back, her elbows dropping off the window sill as she was yanked backwards.
“Hey-!”
She didn’t have to look to know who it was.
She recognized the material at the wrists as Aoshi’s as his arms slid around her, pinning her arms by her sides as he tightened his grip about her.
He leaned, bending his body awkwardly to accommodate her tiny frame. She could feel his breath at her temple.
“Misao…” he murmured softly.
She stubbornly turned her head away.
He shifted and she thought maybe he was leaving, but instead he moved away from her only momentarily to sit himself onto the floor.
She was yanked down a moment later, her knees striking the floor roughly.
“Ouch…”
He didn’t respond and instead pulled her closer, into his lap. He supported her back against the curve of his arm, her knees bending over his thighs on the other side as she sat cross wise on his folded legs.
No.
She wasn’t going to forgive him because he was acting like she’d always wanted him to. It wasn’t that easy.
But he was warm, so amazingly warm and she just wanted to sink against him and forgive him anything.
She couldn’t though.
He’d touched someone else. He’d shared the most precious, secret places of his body with someone else.
A stranger!
It was one thing to know that he wasn’t chaste and perfect, but it was quite another to know it.
She knew now what she hadn’t really thought about before. Knew it with a newness that shook her in ways she didn’t want it to.
It wasn’t something that just happened. It was something that people shared. It was up close and intimate and it wasn’t something she could write off. She wasn’t sure it was something she could readily forgive no matter how much she loved him.
“I’m sorry…”
Was his apology good enough?
“I’ll leave. I can’t bear to watch you turn into a bitter person because of my mistakes.”
She nuzzled her face against his chest. No, she didn’t want him to go away.
“Please don’t leave,” she whispered.
She felt his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath, and he shifted. He began to stroke one hand up and down her thigh gently and she tried to think of a time when he’d done that to her as a child. Had it been a way of comforting her then? But she couldn’t recall it.
“Men make stupid mistakes, Misao,” he gently offered, not sure what he should be saying to her.
“But its true, isn’t it? That it really doesn’t matter whom the woman be…”
“No…. Sometimes it matters a great deal who the woman is.”
“That really means sometimes it doesn’t matter,” she replied obstinately.
“There are women who will sell their bodies because there are men who will buy.”
She frowned.
“I can’t give you a fairy tale world where men are intimate with only women they love.”
She sat back from him. “Fine.” She sighed. “I understand.”
“Misao… is there…” he trailed off.
She struggled a bit to get herself out of his lap and onto her feet. “There’s nothing you can do, Aoshi-sama. Just give me a while.”
She kept her eyes averted from him as she left the room.
A gloom fell over the Aoiya.
* * * *
Two days of apprehension battered the Aoiya Inn and Restaurant. The previously chipper staff was plagued issuing false smiles and pleasant nothing conversation as they all wondered what would happen with their youngest family member.
Something was inevitable, but no one was quite sure what.
Misao had kept to herself and they had given her the space she’d requested from them. She had taken over the solitary chores like laundry and dishes, which she did outside, usually staring into the soapy water absently while her hands worked.
Aoshi continued his daily treks to the Temple, but he had curved his habits. He had started returning to the Aoiya just after the lunch hour between one and two o’clock. Often times he retreated to the Okashira’s Chambers where he watched Misao from a window.
The evening of the second day, Aoshi had had enough. When he saw Misao leaving the Aoiya via the back door, he followed.
She crept along the darkened streets and he tagged along behind her curiously. She peered about in the dark like a runaway afraid that she would be snatched up by the collar at any moment.
Down one street and up another…
It took him several long minutes to realize where she was going and he felt his stomach pitch with disgust.
The dilapidated pleasure quarters.
In the past, the Shimabara had been a grand district full not only of prostitutes but had been a center for the culturally elite. It had been the most envied place in the city – every man wished to go. But since the government no longer licensed the pleasure districts, it had fallen down into a series of cheap brothels with girls near the lane windows and peddlers on the streets.
It was more than a little worrying to him that Misao seemed to know where she was going. This was a dangerous to be, especially for young females. It wasn’t uncommon for young girls to disappear and leaving one’s house at nightfall could end in a tragic separation of daughter and parents. He’d heard horrifying stories.
It was only her quick and cautious steps that kept him from snagging her from her place in the dark and hauling her away.
He would not interfere… to a point.
If anyone touched her, he’d kill them.
No ifs, ands, or buts.
For Misao, a little blood letting was nothing. He would slay an army to protect her.
He watched her, watching the men coming and going from the lantern lit houses and his guilt multiplied. She looked small. She looked disillusioned. She looked betrayed, appalled, and angry.
There were so many things he could see upon her face and each sank the blade of shame a little bit deeper.
Why did this matter so much?
His exposure to sex and the knowledge thereof had not gone in such a fashion. He had even been younger than she is.
Was this because she was a girl and not a boy, as he had been? Was? Was it a difference of male vs. female perception?
He sighed softly.
He didn’t know.
He had no answers for any of these problems.
Surely, she wasn’t of the mindset to take her chances in one of these pleasure hells? There was nothing for her to find within those ramshackle walls. She could do nothing here but ruin her honorable reputation; didn’t she know this?
As she went to step beyond the shadows and into the road he quickly made to grab her, snagging her by the sleeve. She whirled around to fight him off, pulling the sleeve of her kimono clear off her shoulder where it pooled below her elbow.
He reached further, crumpling the fabric as he wrapped his fingers around her forearm and pulled.
Her light frame was unable to withstand the force and she tumbled forward helplessly, still dazed, still struggling. He pinned her back against the wall, quickly silencing her with a broad hand across her mouth.
“Quiet, Misao,” he ordered, his voice curt.
The faint tremors he’d felt twitching along her muscles ceased as she realized who her attacker was.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” he asked his timbre sharp.
She attempted to respond but her words were muffled against the expansive palm of his hand.
He didn’t remove it.
He didn’t want her to talk.
Sometimes she talked too much.
“This is no place for you. What do you seek here except defilement?”
Again, he refused to let her speak, but she still made the effort, muffling against his hand.
“What do you want? Admissions of guilt? Apologies? What is enough penance for you?”
They could see nothing but the gleam of one another’s eyes in the darkness.
She ceased to squirm and he released his hold upon her and the hand across her mouth came away. She immediately pulled her fallen sleeve up again.
“I have every right to be curious!” she snapped irritably. “I was just looking.”
His frown deepened.
“Is that what you want then? Depravity? To experience sin?”
She gasped; it was small, a startled kind of sound just short of inaudible. “I didn’t say-“
“There are many consequences of such things, Misao.”
She huffed as though she was being told she couldn’t jump in puddles.
“Don’t talk down to me, Aoshi-sama! Just because I’m a virgin, doesn’t mean you can treat me like a little girl!”
He seemed to back away without moving. Recoiling in a way that was obvious, but not a physical movement.
“I’m offering myself… What else can I give you?” he asked quietly, the sound of quiet desperation.
She paused, a certain cool kind of stillness settling over her. Quietly, cautiously, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I’ll teach you how to be a woman,” he murmured, his voice husky in the night air.
Startled, she lashed out, striking her palm against his chest. Surprised at the violent motion, he moved back from her.
“I’m going home!” she declared.
She turned and stomped away.
Puzzled and stung by the abrupt rejection, Aoshi followed her from a distance.
* * * *
He’d thought he knew what she wanted.
He’d thought he could give it to her and she would be happy again.
He’d thought she’d wanted him.
Apparently that wasn’t so.
He didn’t know that he knew anything anymore. Misao was the most difficult of puzzles and he wasn’t up for solving puzzles. Misao at often times made him feel old and worn with her continuous bouncing and happy smiles. She bubbled with a life he didn’t have, maybe he’d never had. Maybe he was in the wrong again.
He wasn’t a stranger to being wrong.
But he had suggested the most logical thing.
If Misao wanted to experience physical pleasures then he should be the one to teach her, not some stranger who would be interested in their own pleasures. What if she contracted some debilitating illness? He knew such things were suspected of being passed around by sharing bodies in such a way. Takani had some interesting books from foreign countries about diseases spreading via prostitutes and he did not want Misao anywhere near men who had frequented such women.
What if she became pregnant by such a man? A man who was likely married with a group full of runts at home?
What if she was discovered and her reputation marred? She could never recover from that.
Why had he even suggested such a thing? Surely, despite her curiosity, it would not be proper for her to have an intimate relationship with him and yet…
Yet… he’d suggested it so easily.
He’d … and she’d flat out rejected him.
Despite knowing that Misao–and not he had done what was morally right, he was bothered.
Misao, it seems, didn’t want him.
He sighed softly and stepped away from the window.
The Okashira’s chambers had once been his sanctuary.
Now it was merely a painful reminder of the past.
He took a seat at the sturdy western desk and propped his elbows up supporting his chin.
Should he wait?
Should he speak to her, or would he just botch it up again?
* * * *
Misao sat in her room, again, contemplating what she should be doing. Nothing was easy anymore. She found herself longing for her younger days when life was easier.
She’d never thought about these things before.
She’d never realized the depth of “Aoshi and other women” before and just how much and what that meant.
Now she wasn’t sure if she was being mature or immature by thinking about it so much.
It was done, right?
What could she do to change it?
Anything?
No.
So why all the angst?
She wasn’t quite sure, but it just wouldn’t go away. It wouldn’t disappear no matter how much she wanted it to. She’d tried to pretend, she’d tried to put it behind her and couldn’t.
But she knew more than she did before. She was older and wiser and she didn’t like it.
Older and wiser wasn’t something she liked.
She stood up and headed toward her door.
It wasn’t going to go away.
She didn’t want to jump into bed with him. She didn’t want him to think he had to make her happy by doing something he thought she wanted.
Especially since she didn’t know what she wanted.
She wanted something she couldn’t have and that was for this whole situation to vanish.
It wouldn’t.
So, she’d have to make do and settle it some other way.
She knew without asking that Aoshi had taken up refuge in his old office. Omasu and Okon had visited her several times and dropped hints about Aoshi being “secluded” and “moodier than usual”. They had also hinted that it was somehow her fault, so she’d ignored them.
Why he’d chosen to go to the office that she couldn’t imagine. Maybe he felt bad. Maybe that place offered comfort he hadn’t realized. Maybe he was basking in good memories instead of bad ones.
She had kind of tossed him aside the other night, hadn’t she?
Now she felt bad about it, but at the time she’d been utterly repulsed.
What did he mean, ‘offering himself’… like he was a steak for sale or something?
The whole situation had just struck her as wrong.
She stepped into the hall and the sound of carousing caught her ears. The group usually met for table games once a week and it usually turned out noisy with gambling and alcohol.
Misao turned her nose up at the thought of it. She wasn’t in any mood for parties tonight.
She headed for the stairs, down them, and toward the office. She didn’t knock, she just slid the door open, half-expecting he might not be there. When she peered inside, the dancing candlelight dashed the little hope that maybe she could put it off for just a bit longer.
He was leaning on the desk; his head turned downward, his bangs shading his eyes from view.
A single candle burned on the desk despondently.
“Aoshi-sama?”
He shifted, but didn’t look up.
She stepped further into the room and closed the door behind her. He didn’t move and she came around so the desk was between them, as though she was prepared to receive orders.
He didn’t lift his head.
She knocked a closed fist on the desk and he shifted, turning up slightly.
“Um… Aoshi-sama… I was thinking about it and… It’s not really any of my business what you want to do in your spare time.”
He lifted his head all the way up.
It was true enough and that was the worst part. He didn’t owe her any explanations at all. He wasn’t tied to her. They weren’t married. She didn’t own him. They were just housemates in a sense.
Maybe he picked that up from her tone because he shifted again, this time sitting back, falling back into deeper shadows. She could barely even see his outline.
“Do you love me, Misao?” he asked his voice deep. It was almost a lethargic sound.
She tensed, rubbing a bare wrist awkwardly. How was she supposed to answer that? Did she even know the answer to it?
“It’s a simple question, isn’t it?”
He didn’t so much as twitch.
Again, she didn’t answer.
“Go to bed, Misao.” There was a sigh in his voice, something resolved, maybe something lost.
She didn’t move. She couldn’t just go away, but she wasn’t sure she could answer. She had to do one or the other, didn’t
she?
She stomped around the desk toward him. She suddenly wished his chair twirled or something so she could spin him around in circles.
“You can’t just order me around! I’m the one in charge around here, you know.”
He turned his head toward her and she could see his eyes, and they were dark glittering pools.
She moved to step back, but he caught her by the wrist. She hadn’t seen his eyes appear so dark or frightening since the fight he’d had with Okina.
“Aoshi-sama?”
“If you don’t love me, why did it matter? What is one woman? What is five?” His voice reminded her of the snap of a dog’s jaws at the end of a vicious bark.
She growled, stunned at the sudden picture of him bringing more women home.
She slammed her hand on the desk. “All this time I’ve doted over you and you pay me no attention and suddenly you want me to declare I love you!?”
She pounded her fist on the desk four more times in anger.
“And for that matter, why do you even have to ask? Isn’t it obvious? How many times I’ve been told to get over it or to find a hobby or to find a husband? I can’t believe this!”
She turned, intending to stomp out, angry, when large hands gripped her along the hips.
She tried to throw him off, to release his grip upon her, but failed and he dragged her back, into his lap behind the large western desk.
He pressed his chin against her shoulder by her ear. “Tell me you love me,” he murmured huskily.
She tried to fight him off, and kicked him with the back of her heel in his shin. “I’m not talking to you, let me go!”
She pouted as she struggled, now feeling every bit as immature as she’d been described innumerous times before.
“Get off!”
“Tell me you love me…” he murmured, his hands tightening around her waist, holding her arms against her body tighter.
“Tell me.”
She fought him, trying to get him to let her go but only ended up moving side to side in a weird, rocking motion.
He pulled her back and raised one hand to cup her chin, turning her face toward his, touching their mouths together.
Stunned, her struggles stopped and he leaned back from the soft, weak touch of their lips.
“Misao…”
“Why does it matter?” she asked glumly, sighing, turning away, and looking forward.
“I’m giving you reason.”
Eh?
She tensed.
“Giving me reason for what?”
He ignored the question. “Tell me you love me.”
She wanted to stomp her feet. “Aoshi-sama!” She pouted. “You can’t just make it go away.”
He tried to pull her deeper into him. “Is it that bad? Is it unforgivable?”
He sounded so earnest, so genuine, and she couldn’t ignore it. Was it unforgivable?
No…
Everyone made mistakes.
It wasn’t something she could fault him, he didn’t do it frequently. He abstained from drinking… it was just her making a big deal over something that had offended her… wasn’t it?
She didn’t really know, but she knew she was tired of it. She wanted it to go away, and if forgiving him it would do that, she wanted it.
With his arms surrounding her, she didn’t care about near anything outside of him at that moment. She smiled softly. “So, what reason are you giving me?” She asked coyly.
“Tell me you love me,” he repeated, yet again.
She laughed.
“I’m the Okashira around here. No more drinking for you, Aoshi-sama.”
He tilted his head downward, almost cuddling against her. “Aa,” he murmured his mouth against her neck. “Misao…”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me you love me…”
His voice was soft and it had lost the dark edge to it. She tried to squirm around and he released her enough for her to face him, her body twisted. His eyes were clear and she found herself relieved she was again staring into the eyes of the man she’d known practically all her life.
“I love you, Aoshi-sama,” she answered, her voice soft. She curled her hands into the fabric at his collarbones. “But if I ever catch you with another woman again, I’ll maim you both.”
His reaction was muted as he leaned forward to press his mouth to hers.
Upon later reflection, Misao decided it had been, possibly, one of the best things to happen to her. It was one of the times she could look back and see how she’d grown as a person, another small step into adulthood. The world wasn’t perfect and people weren’t perfect either…
Certainly, her Aoshi-sama wasn’t, but she loved him all the same.
That was okay… She could live with that.
Author’s Note:
Thanks to Kettering, who is both inspiring and helpful… it was her notion of “Aoshi says the wrong thing”. I think she’s right about that, now I don’t think I’ll ever get that picture of him out of my head. ^_^
Beta read by Kettering, edited by Menolly. (Both wonderful people, whom I sent the file and then changed the ending sentences. )
Converting /tmp/phpn5RurE to /dev/stdout
Author: Western Ink
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst/Romance
Pairing: AxM
Disclaimer: I do not own RK.
* * * *
Summary: Shinobi Love’s March challenge. Aoshi gets drunk, but it isn’t games or strange behavior or fun sexiness that ensues. Gloom visits the Aoiya as everyone discovers why Aoshi doesn’t drink.
* * * * The celebratory atmosphere of the Aoiya gave way to more burdensome emotions come the next morning. The trash needed disposed of and the tables needed scrubbing, but it wasn’t the cleaning that caused the somber faces.
There had been no mistaking the grunting and heavy panting and shrill female cries emanating from Aoshi’s room the previous night. No, everyone had heard those.
It hadn’t gone on for hours but the little “sessions” had been recurring and frequent enough and loud enough to be bothersome.
The problem was not that Aoshi had brought a woman home, or the fact he’d taken the said woman to his room. The problem was that Misao had heard the sounds too.
An unknown woman had escaped the Aoiya at dawn, but Aoshi was still holed up in his room, as was Misao. Stillness had overtaken the upstairs floors.
Total silence filled the usually bouncy restaurant. No one seemed to know what to say or do.
It was plain enough that Aoshi had had company and it wasn’t Misao he’d… well… had.
The ever-present question was: how was she going to deal with it?
* * * *
Sick.
She felt sick.
That was the best way to describe the heavy, disgusting feeling that was weighing her down.
She didn’t even want to eat. How could she eat, feeling like this? Like she’d toss it all up before it even got to her stomach?
How could he?
How… How could he?
She wasn’t that naïve; she knew men had… lusts… But still!
To … To…!
To bring a woman to the Aoiya!?
And then to make so much noise? So… So… blatantly?
As though to advertise it, to shove it in her face, Misao-I’m-not-interested-in-you. It was just downright… cruel.
She couldn’t bring herself to cry. She couldn’t get over the sick feeling. The heavy, unbearable foreboding… just…grossness.
She had never in her life felt so…
Weak and vulnerable, and from nothing more than hearing him with another woman.
It was as astonishing to her how much this made her feel raw inside as it did repulse her.
The sounds of his being intimate with another woman cut her open, straight down the center. She felt like she never wanted to look him in the face again.
Never.
Somehow she just knew this was Okina’s fault. He was always involved in stupid things like this; knowing him that perverted man was probably laughing amused at it all.
She scowled and pulled her favorite blanket around her shoulders.
Were all men like this?
Was one woman just as good as another?
Was that it?
She bit her lip anxiously; she didn’t know what to think.
* * * *
Aoshi groaned and held his painful, throbbing head. How the hell had he let Okina talk him into drinking when he had no tolerance?
He was going to kill that old man one of these days in one of his drunken blackouts and not remember a thing.
He sighed and stumbled from his room just shy of noon. The Aoiya was quiet, but he could hear the patrons bustling and chatting out front.
He took the side door out and wandered toward the Temple. Maybe some peace and quiet without the heavy scent of alcohol would do him some good.
Absently, as he left the Aoiya, he wondered where Misao was. He hadn’t heard her or anything so far that day, but he’d been in and out of sleep all morning. Somehow, he always ended up wondering something about her.
He needed fresh air.
* * * *
Omasu and Okon exchanged conspiratorial whispers. “I just can’t believe it!”
“I know… Why would he do such a thing? He could have at least done it outside the Aoiya, away from Misao…”
“I haven’t heard a peep from her all day.”
“I wonder if we should go see her, bring her some soup?”
“Good afternoon!”
The two women turned to see Okina in the doorway. He was grinning like a mad cat, but his expression dimmed when they continued to frown.
“What’s the problem?”
“Weren’t you here last night?” Omasu asked, not recalling having seen the old man after dinner.
He shook his head. “Aoshi and I went out for a couple of drinks.”
Okon growled, glaring at him. He was the one responsible for this? “Drinks? You mean to say Aoshi got drunk with you last night?”
Okina stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Drunk? No, I wouldn’t say so. He was standing upright and talking well. We only shared two bottles.”
“TWO bottles? Do you know what he did?” Omasu shrieked.
Okon tugged on Omasu’s sleeve to quiet her as not to announce the entire event to the customers in the next room.
Omasu quieted, but the venom in her voice was just as deadly. “He brought a woman back here last night and made all sorts of racket for hours.”
Okina laughed, clearly delighted. “Good boy.”
Omasu whacked him on the head, hard, with a tofu bucket.
“Misao has not emerged from her room all day!”
Okina stilled suddenly as though realizing why it was a bad thing Aoshi had a woman to entertain him the previous evening.
“Ah… I see, I see. Quite badly done of him.”
“Drunk men have no sense!” Okon chided. “Which is your fault! You owe Misao an apology!”
With a heavy sigh, Okina turned and made his way toward Misao’s room.
There was no answer.
Puzzled, he slid the door open, but the room appeared to be empty.
He slid the door closed once more and quietly retreated downstairs.
My, what troubles the young ones were, he thought as he settled himself at his table.
* * * *
Misao curled up in her closet with a blanket, brooding.
How dare he?
If he was going to be so crude and insensitive then… then.. she didn’t want to see him anymore. Someone else could bring him his tea. Someone else could politely inform him that dinner was done. Someone else could do the shopping and pick up his favorite items. Someone else could sit with him and chat about all the things he missed.
Someone else.
Yeah…
Maybe that cheap slut he’d brought to his room could do those things for him, she thought bitterly.
She hadn’t assumed he was a virgin, but she hadn’t actively thought about him out there sexing other women! That was just wrong!
She’d thought she knew him better than anyone else, but maybe that wasn’t so. Maybe she only thought she knew him. Maybe she only knew him from her star-struck little world where he was perfect and… she sighed.
But a better question than that, if she was willing to part from him so easily, maybe she didn’t love him after all…
Would a woman leave the man she loved simply because he had made a mistake?
Was it a mistake at all?
Why would he bring a woman back here this way?
Why would he do it exactly across the hall from her?
Why?
She couldn’t stay in her room forever, but she could stay there long enough to avoid him. She knew his schedule well enough. She probably knew it better than anyone did. Which is what she intended to do.
Her battered heart and sense of self couldn’t take a run-in with him just yet.
* * * *
Come dinnertime Omasu and Okon were getting more distraught. Omasu found Okina at his table reading and she whacked him on the head with a nearby book, angrily.
“Where is she?”
He rubbed his head with a frown. “I do not know, her room was empty.”
“You useless, old man! What are you going to tell her? This is all your fault!”
He sighed again as though she were troubling him and she stomped away when he didn’t answer. This time, toward the stair case.
She knocked on Misao’s door and received no answer, but she was beyond the point of politeness. She invited herself in and peered about.
She knew Misao had to be in here. Why would she have left the Aoiya?
“Misao?”
She caught sight of the slightly ajar closet door and felt her anger perish. A stifling sense of grief waved over her…Had Misao retreated to her closet?
The last time Misao had curled herself up in the closet was the day after she’d discovered Aoshi had left the Aoiya for good without her. Ages and ages ago, Misao had been a child then, but the hurt had been devastating.
She’d cried for days, she wouldn’t eat, she didn’t want to talk to anyone…
Omasu slid the door open, hoping she didn’t find the younger girl there, but when she caught sight of a hint of blue fabric, Misao’s favorite blanket, all her hopes were dashed.
This was bad.
This wasn’t going to be fixed with an apology of any kind. The combined riches of the world weren’t going to heal this hurt.
Omasu slid the door open and knelt down in the doorway of the closet. She met Misao’s heartbroken blue green eyes and felt tears prick her own.
“Misao…I’m so sorry.”
What else could she say?
Misao just shook her head and didn’t say anything. Tears hung on the girl’s lashes, but didn’t fall.
Omasu’s lip trembled as her own tears escaped and once they did, Misao broke and threw herself into Omasu’s arms.
* * * *
Dinner was a quiet affair and conversation was strained. Misao was missing altogether, Aoshi had been late and Omasu’s face was pink and her eyes looked the same. Aoshi peered at her with curiosity, but didn’t question, in fact, he noted Misao’s absence with even more interest, but also, said nothing.
Okina attempted to lighten the mood of the heavy meal and failed, several times over. When dinner ended, Aoshi retreated to his room, right across from Misao’s, and the others set about cleaning up.
Okina dragged his old bones up the stairs and knocked upon Misao’s door, but the girl inside refused to answer.
Across the hall, however, Aoshi’s door slid open. He eyed the old man standing there with curiosity.
“Is she ill?”
“I would be a much happier man if she were,” Okina admitted. “Do you not know what has upset her?”
Aoshi stared at him blankly. “No.”
The old man stared at him astonished. “Ah, of course, I forgot. You blackout when you get drunk.”
His laughter was sharp and bitter and harsh in the quiet confines of the hall.
“I’ve upset her then?”
Okina nodded. “I would say you should apologize, but she is not currently on speaking terms with anyone but Omasu and Okon, it seems. Give her a day or two; I think she will come around.”
Okina began to totter away when Aoshi’s voice stopped him.
“What did I do?”
Okina turned back and pinned a firm stare on the younger male. “That, Aoshi, I am not willing to believe you do not know. There must be some indication of what happened in there. It should be easy to figure out then, why it was …unwise and why Misao is upset about it.”
Aoshi watched him go before he turned and stepped back into his room. He repressed the desire he had to try to get Misao to open her door. He would leave her to her peace, she obviously didn’t want to see him and he’d obviously done something to deserve it.
After all, she hadn’t come to bring him tea or to tell him dinner was prepared. Typically, she came early and he walked back with her and when they arrived, dinner was done.
Today, that hadn’t happened.
When he finally realized she wasn’t coming, he’d had to come back alone, puzzled over her absence.
Now as he stared about his room, he wondered what it was that could’ve happened here that upset Misao.
There appeared to be nothing out of order, nothing missing, nothing broken…
He was in the process of shifting the futon he had neglected to roll up when something clinked against the wooden floorboards. He reached beneath the matting and withdrew a polished wooden hair stick with jade colored beads on the end.
Hair accessories… why the hell were…
His mouth went dry.
No way…
He hadn’t really done… that?
He hadn’t visited a house of pleasure and brought one “home” with him since the days he’d traveled with Hannya and the others.
He didn’t get drunk for a reason, when he did there was one thing he wanted: women.
Surely, he hadn’t…
He stood up, but was lost, totally confused.
What was he supposed to do?
He stared at the stick in his hand.
Evidence.
He could break it or burn it, but it didn’t matter. He could bury it beneath the floorboards and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.
The hair stick wasn’t causing the problem, it had been the woman that the hair stick belonged to and Misao already knew.
Would she forgive him for this?
He was not married to her, he was not obligated to answer to her, and yet…
He was obligated to answer to her, because she was all he had. If he lost Misao, what else was there?
Would Okina bring him tea in the morning? Scratch that, did he want Okina bringing him tea?
He squeezed the wooden stick in his hand and snapped it against his palm.
This was bad.
* * * *
For two days, Misao avoided Aoshi by keeping to her bedroom. She chatted briefly with Okon and Omasu and ignored Okina altogether. The old man was becoming discouraged with her continued snubs.
On the third day, Misao emerged from her room only after Aoshi had left her for the Temple. She dressed herself in a kimono, unable to put her ninja uniform on. It reminded her too much, suddenly, of the men’s uniform and she was protesting men.
Instead, she donned a blue colored kimono and headed on downstairs at about mid-morning. Aoshi was gone, she’d heard him leave herself. The stairs were well put together and creak free, but Okina heard her nonetheless as she entered the room.
“Ah, there you are my darling.”
She turned her nose up at him and his face fell. “I’m not talking to you.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
She sat down at the table a couple of places away. “Because you’re a man and this is somehow all your fault!”
He paused. “Misao…” he started, but a sharp glare from her stopped him cold.
“I’m not talking to you. You can’t deny this mess is your fault, I know it is and I don’t even know what happened yet.”
He smiled. “Precisely, my dear. Which is why you should let me explain myself.”
“No! You’re a man and men lie, you couldn’t be believed anyway.”
His mouth snapped closed at that. “What? Misao, now you’re just being silly…”
She glared at him. “There’s nothing silly about it. You just do whatever you want… one girl is as good as another, what do faces and names matter?”
He was taken aback. “Mis-“
She stood up and left the room.
Misao wandered to the kitchen and then out, drifting.
She wished Megumi were here.
This wasn’t a Kaoru problem, Kaoru was too… well, it didn’t matter what she was.
Megumi at least was older, seemed to have more world experience. Maybe she would have some helpful advice or wisdom or…
Misao sighed.
She walked along the streets until she found a set of stairs and sat herself.
How could he just… be intimate with a stranger so easily?
She couldn’t do that.
She couldn’t pick up a guy at the bar and just let him … use her.
Didn’t the woman matter to him? Was every woman just a vessel for pleasure? She cringed.
Eewww…
That even sounded gross.
What was wrong with him?
What was wrong with men?
Were they flawed or something?
Broken?
The sound of rapid footfalls and hurried breaths drew her head up. Someone was coming.
She glanced back to see Okon leaning on a fence, panting.
“Misao! I was looking for you.”
Misao stood and walked toward Okon. “Why? Something happen?”
“No. We were a bit busy, but I was just worried about you. Okina said you made a few remarks to him; I thought maybe you’d want to talk?”
Misao glanced toward the busier street up ahead. “How can they do that, Okon?”
She linked her arm with the younger girl’s and they began to walk toward the Aoiya.
“How can they just hop from one girl to another? They do that, right? They have the pleasure quarters, I know about all that stuff. They don’t even care if it’s the same girl or not, just a warm, female body. That’s not wrong, is it? That’s what they do, isn’t it?”
Okon sighed. “Men aren’t like women, Misao. They’re different.”
“Obviously,” Misao snapped. “I wouldn’t have brought a man home for sex.”
Okon took a discreet glance around, but no one seemed to have heard her comment. If they had, they were politely ignoring them.
Okon quickly ushered her toward the Aoiya.
“Men are like… They have more of a physical want for that kind of thing. Women desire the closeness, the intimacy.”
Misao shot her a look. “You trying to tell me women don’t like sex?”
Okon blanched. “I’m not saying that, but it wouldn’t be the same for you if you got Aoshi-sama or a random guy off the corner, right? That’s the difference.”
* * * *
The answer was unsuitable and Misao’s feelings toward the situation took a nosedive.
“No. Misao…” he started and was abruptly cut off when she snapped at him.
“If it isn’t the same, explain it to me!”
The temple was no safe haven. Misao had brought and made him tea, but he hadn’t yet drunk from it yet. She had set right in demanding an explanation of something that was completely beyond his ability to explain to her. He wanted to explain it, he wanted to apologize for offending and hurting her, but…
“You’ve misunderstood.”
“I think I understand perfectly well,” she exclaimed. “The world is full of animals masquerading themselves as human men.”
He opened his mouth to contest the assertion, but she was already at and then beyond the doorway, stomping away.
Outside, clouds hovered in the sky.
It had been overcast all day.
He sat for a few moments longer staring at the rising column of steam from his teacup. He could not even blame Okina for this error; the man had not forced the alcohol down his throat.
It was not Misao’s view of the world he was worrying over. Her ranting and raving and exclamations were animated and angry, but that was to be expected.
It was the haunted look in her eyes that was bothering him, the deep, scored marks that seemed to have been trenched into her. It wasn’t some bitter anger that had caused her fiery outbursts but a hurt; a festering wound that he’d caused her.
It was a betrayal of trust, something he’d never intended to do to her. It was not a passing mistake or the offense of a stranger. It was an injury to Misao.
All for a night of passing physical pleasure he remembered nothing of. There was not even a black haze, there was simply nothing. It was time gone from him, stolen by his intolerance for alcohol.
What did Misao think of such things? Did she think about them? Did she desire such physical closeness with someone? Did she desire that with him?
He was almost afraid to think of it. Afraid he might be tempted by such fantasies.
And yet…
He’d looked at her and wondered.
But did he want that?
He stood, grabbing the Aoiya dishes and slowly began to walk back toward home.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to let Misao have her time alone. Perhaps he should have spoken to her immediately.
He should never have allowed her to sit alone and let the bad feelings boil.
* * * *
She stood by the window at the Aoiya glaring up at the sky. Would it rain? She wanted it to rain. She felt like rain.
She didn’t hear the footsteps or sense his presence before strong hands slid around her waist, pulling her back, her elbows dropping off the window sill as she was yanked backwards.
“Hey-!”
She didn’t have to look to know who it was.
She recognized the material at the wrists as Aoshi’s as his arms slid around her, pinning her arms by her sides as he tightened his grip about her.
He leaned, bending his body awkwardly to accommodate her tiny frame. She could feel his breath at her temple.
“Misao…” he murmured softly.
She stubbornly turned her head away.
He shifted and she thought maybe he was leaving, but instead he moved away from her only momentarily to sit himself onto the floor.
She was yanked down a moment later, her knees striking the floor roughly.
“Ouch…”
He didn’t respond and instead pulled her closer, into his lap. He supported her back against the curve of his arm, her knees bending over his thighs on the other side as she sat cross wise on his folded legs.
No.
She wasn’t going to forgive him because he was acting like she’d always wanted him to. It wasn’t that easy.
But he was warm, so amazingly warm and she just wanted to sink against him and forgive him anything.
She couldn’t though.
He’d touched someone else. He’d shared the most precious, secret places of his body with someone else.
A stranger!
It was one thing to know that he wasn’t chaste and perfect, but it was quite another to know it.
She knew now what she hadn’t really thought about before. Knew it with a newness that shook her in ways she didn’t want it to.
It wasn’t something that just happened. It was something that people shared. It was up close and intimate and it wasn’t something she could write off. She wasn’t sure it was something she could readily forgive no matter how much she loved him.
“I’m sorry…”
Was his apology good enough?
“I’ll leave. I can’t bear to watch you turn into a bitter person because of my mistakes.”
She nuzzled her face against his chest. No, she didn’t want him to go away.
“Please don’t leave,” she whispered.
She felt his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath, and he shifted. He began to stroke one hand up and down her thigh gently and she tried to think of a time when he’d done that to her as a child. Had it been a way of comforting her then? But she couldn’t recall it.
“Men make stupid mistakes, Misao,” he gently offered, not sure what he should be saying to her.
“But its true, isn’t it? That it really doesn’t matter whom the woman be…”
“No…. Sometimes it matters a great deal who the woman is.”
“That really means sometimes it doesn’t matter,” she replied obstinately.
“There are women who will sell their bodies because there are men who will buy.”
She frowned.
“I can’t give you a fairy tale world where men are intimate with only women they love.”
She sat back from him. “Fine.” She sighed. “I understand.”
“Misao… is there…” he trailed off.
She struggled a bit to get herself out of his lap and onto her feet. “There’s nothing you can do, Aoshi-sama. Just give me a while.”
She kept her eyes averted from him as she left the room.
A gloom fell over the Aoiya.
* * * *
Two days of apprehension battered the Aoiya Inn and Restaurant. The previously chipper staff was plagued issuing false smiles and pleasant nothing conversation as they all wondered what would happen with their youngest family member.
Something was inevitable, but no one was quite sure what.
Misao had kept to herself and they had given her the space she’d requested from them. She had taken over the solitary chores like laundry and dishes, which she did outside, usually staring into the soapy water absently while her hands worked.
Aoshi continued his daily treks to the Temple, but he had curved his habits. He had started returning to the Aoiya just after the lunch hour between one and two o’clock. Often times he retreated to the Okashira’s Chambers where he watched Misao from a window.
The evening of the second day, Aoshi had had enough. When he saw Misao leaving the Aoiya via the back door, he followed.
She crept along the darkened streets and he tagged along behind her curiously. She peered about in the dark like a runaway afraid that she would be snatched up by the collar at any moment.
Down one street and up another…
It took him several long minutes to realize where she was going and he felt his stomach pitch with disgust.
The dilapidated pleasure quarters.
In the past, the Shimabara had been a grand district full not only of prostitutes but had been a center for the culturally elite. It had been the most envied place in the city – every man wished to go. But since the government no longer licensed the pleasure districts, it had fallen down into a series of cheap brothels with girls near the lane windows and peddlers on the streets.
It was more than a little worrying to him that Misao seemed to know where she was going. This was a dangerous to be, especially for young females. It wasn’t uncommon for young girls to disappear and leaving one’s house at nightfall could end in a tragic separation of daughter and parents. He’d heard horrifying stories.
It was only her quick and cautious steps that kept him from snagging her from her place in the dark and hauling her away.
He would not interfere… to a point.
If anyone touched her, he’d kill them.
No ifs, ands, or buts.
For Misao, a little blood letting was nothing. He would slay an army to protect her.
He watched her, watching the men coming and going from the lantern lit houses and his guilt multiplied. She looked small. She looked disillusioned. She looked betrayed, appalled, and angry.
There were so many things he could see upon her face and each sank the blade of shame a little bit deeper.
Why did this matter so much?
His exposure to sex and the knowledge thereof had not gone in such a fashion. He had even been younger than she is.
Was this because she was a girl and not a boy, as he had been? Was? Was it a difference of male vs. female perception?
He sighed softly.
He didn’t know.
He had no answers for any of these problems.
Surely, she wasn’t of the mindset to take her chances in one of these pleasure hells? There was nothing for her to find within those ramshackle walls. She could do nothing here but ruin her honorable reputation; didn’t she know this?
As she went to step beyond the shadows and into the road he quickly made to grab her, snagging her by the sleeve. She whirled around to fight him off, pulling the sleeve of her kimono clear off her shoulder where it pooled below her elbow.
He reached further, crumpling the fabric as he wrapped his fingers around her forearm and pulled.
Her light frame was unable to withstand the force and she tumbled forward helplessly, still dazed, still struggling. He pinned her back against the wall, quickly silencing her with a broad hand across her mouth.
“Quiet, Misao,” he ordered, his voice curt.
The faint tremors he’d felt twitching along her muscles ceased as she realized who her attacker was.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” he asked his timbre sharp.
She attempted to respond but her words were muffled against the expansive palm of his hand.
He didn’t remove it.
He didn’t want her to talk.
Sometimes she talked too much.
“This is no place for you. What do you seek here except defilement?”
Again, he refused to let her speak, but she still made the effort, muffling against his hand.
“What do you want? Admissions of guilt? Apologies? What is enough penance for you?”
They could see nothing but the gleam of one another’s eyes in the darkness.
She ceased to squirm and he released his hold upon her and the hand across her mouth came away. She immediately pulled her fallen sleeve up again.
“I have every right to be curious!” she snapped irritably. “I was just looking.”
His frown deepened.
“Is that what you want then? Depravity? To experience sin?”
She gasped; it was small, a startled kind of sound just short of inaudible. “I didn’t say-“
“There are many consequences of such things, Misao.”
She huffed as though she was being told she couldn’t jump in puddles.
“Don’t talk down to me, Aoshi-sama! Just because I’m a virgin, doesn’t mean you can treat me like a little girl!”
He seemed to back away without moving. Recoiling in a way that was obvious, but not a physical movement.
“I’m offering myself… What else can I give you?” he asked quietly, the sound of quiet desperation.
She paused, a certain cool kind of stillness settling over her. Quietly, cautiously, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I’ll teach you how to be a woman,” he murmured, his voice husky in the night air.
Startled, she lashed out, striking her palm against his chest. Surprised at the violent motion, he moved back from her.
“I’m going home!” she declared.
She turned and stomped away.
Puzzled and stung by the abrupt rejection, Aoshi followed her from a distance.
* * * *
He’d thought he knew what she wanted.
He’d thought he could give it to her and she would be happy again.
He’d thought she’d wanted him.
Apparently that wasn’t so.
He didn’t know that he knew anything anymore. Misao was the most difficult of puzzles and he wasn’t up for solving puzzles. Misao at often times made him feel old and worn with her continuous bouncing and happy smiles. She bubbled with a life he didn’t have, maybe he’d never had. Maybe he was in the wrong again.
He wasn’t a stranger to being wrong.
But he had suggested the most logical thing.
If Misao wanted to experience physical pleasures then he should be the one to teach her, not some stranger who would be interested in their own pleasures. What if she contracted some debilitating illness? He knew such things were suspected of being passed around by sharing bodies in such a way. Takani had some interesting books from foreign countries about diseases spreading via prostitutes and he did not want Misao anywhere near men who had frequented such women.
What if she became pregnant by such a man? A man who was likely married with a group full of runts at home?
What if she was discovered and her reputation marred? She could never recover from that.
Why had he even suggested such a thing? Surely, despite her curiosity, it would not be proper for her to have an intimate relationship with him and yet…
Yet… he’d suggested it so easily.
He’d … and she’d flat out rejected him.
Despite knowing that Misao–and not he had done what was morally right, he was bothered.
Misao, it seems, didn’t want him.
He sighed softly and stepped away from the window.
The Okashira’s chambers had once been his sanctuary.
Now it was merely a painful reminder of the past.
He took a seat at the sturdy western desk and propped his elbows up supporting his chin.
Should he wait?
Should he speak to her, or would he just botch it up again?
* * * *
Misao sat in her room, again, contemplating what she should be doing. Nothing was easy anymore. She found herself longing for her younger days when life was easier.
She’d never thought about these things before.
She’d never realized the depth of “Aoshi and other women” before and just how much and what that meant.
Now she wasn’t sure if she was being mature or immature by thinking about it so much.
It was done, right?
What could she do to change it?
Anything?
No.
So why all the angst?
She wasn’t quite sure, but it just wouldn’t go away. It wouldn’t disappear no matter how much she wanted it to. She’d tried to pretend, she’d tried to put it behind her and couldn’t.
But she knew more than she did before. She was older and wiser and she didn’t like it.
Older and wiser wasn’t something she liked.
She stood up and headed toward her door.
It wasn’t going to go away.
She didn’t want to jump into bed with him. She didn’t want him to think he had to make her happy by doing something he thought she wanted.
Especially since she didn’t know what she wanted.
She wanted something she couldn’t have and that was for this whole situation to vanish.
It wouldn’t.
So, she’d have to make do and settle it some other way.
She knew without asking that Aoshi had taken up refuge in his old office. Omasu and Okon had visited her several times and dropped hints about Aoshi being “secluded” and “moodier than usual”. They had also hinted that it was somehow her fault, so she’d ignored them.
Why he’d chosen to go to the office that she couldn’t imagine. Maybe he felt bad. Maybe that place offered comfort he hadn’t realized. Maybe he was basking in good memories instead of bad ones.
She had kind of tossed him aside the other night, hadn’t she?
Now she felt bad about it, but at the time she’d been utterly repulsed.
What did he mean, ‘offering himself’… like he was a steak for sale or something?
The whole situation had just struck her as wrong.
She stepped into the hall and the sound of carousing caught her ears. The group usually met for table games once a week and it usually turned out noisy with gambling and alcohol.
Misao turned her nose up at the thought of it. She wasn’t in any mood for parties tonight.
She headed for the stairs, down them, and toward the office. She didn’t knock, she just slid the door open, half-expecting he might not be there. When she peered inside, the dancing candlelight dashed the little hope that maybe she could put it off for just a bit longer.
He was leaning on the desk; his head turned downward, his bangs shading his eyes from view.
A single candle burned on the desk despondently.
“Aoshi-sama?”
He shifted, but didn’t look up.
She stepped further into the room and closed the door behind her. He didn’t move and she came around so the desk was between them, as though she was prepared to receive orders.
He didn’t lift his head.
She knocked a closed fist on the desk and he shifted, turning up slightly.
“Um… Aoshi-sama… I was thinking about it and… It’s not really any of my business what you want to do in your spare time.”
He lifted his head all the way up.
It was true enough and that was the worst part. He didn’t owe her any explanations at all. He wasn’t tied to her. They weren’t married. She didn’t own him. They were just housemates in a sense.
Maybe he picked that up from her tone because he shifted again, this time sitting back, falling back into deeper shadows. She could barely even see his outline.
“Do you love me, Misao?” he asked his voice deep. It was almost a lethargic sound.
She tensed, rubbing a bare wrist awkwardly. How was she supposed to answer that? Did she even know the answer to it?
“It’s a simple question, isn’t it?”
He didn’t so much as twitch.
Again, she didn’t answer.
“Go to bed, Misao.” There was a sigh in his voice, something resolved, maybe something lost.
She didn’t move. She couldn’t just go away, but she wasn’t sure she could answer. She had to do one or the other, didn’t
she?
She stomped around the desk toward him. She suddenly wished his chair twirled or something so she could spin him around in circles.
“You can’t just order me around! I’m the one in charge around here, you know.”
He turned his head toward her and she could see his eyes, and they were dark glittering pools.
She moved to step back, but he caught her by the wrist. She hadn’t seen his eyes appear so dark or frightening since the fight he’d had with Okina.
“Aoshi-sama?”
“If you don’t love me, why did it matter? What is one woman? What is five?” His voice reminded her of the snap of a dog’s jaws at the end of a vicious bark.
She growled, stunned at the sudden picture of him bringing more women home.
She slammed her hand on the desk. “All this time I’ve doted over you and you pay me no attention and suddenly you want me to declare I love you!?”
She pounded her fist on the desk four more times in anger.
“And for that matter, why do you even have to ask? Isn’t it obvious? How many times I’ve been told to get over it or to find a hobby or to find a husband? I can’t believe this!”
She turned, intending to stomp out, angry, when large hands gripped her along the hips.
She tried to throw him off, to release his grip upon her, but failed and he dragged her back, into his lap behind the large western desk.
He pressed his chin against her shoulder by her ear. “Tell me you love me,” he murmured huskily.
She tried to fight him off, and kicked him with the back of her heel in his shin. “I’m not talking to you, let me go!”
She pouted as she struggled, now feeling every bit as immature as she’d been described innumerous times before.
“Get off!”
“Tell me you love me…” he murmured, his hands tightening around her waist, holding her arms against her body tighter.
“Tell me.”
She fought him, trying to get him to let her go but only ended up moving side to side in a weird, rocking motion.
He pulled her back and raised one hand to cup her chin, turning her face toward his, touching their mouths together.
Stunned, her struggles stopped and he leaned back from the soft, weak touch of their lips.
“Misao…”
“Why does it matter?” she asked glumly, sighing, turning away, and looking forward.
“I’m giving you reason.”
Eh?
She tensed.
“Giving me reason for what?”
He ignored the question. “Tell me you love me.”
She wanted to stomp her feet. “Aoshi-sama!” She pouted. “You can’t just make it go away.”
He tried to pull her deeper into him. “Is it that bad? Is it unforgivable?”
He sounded so earnest, so genuine, and she couldn’t ignore it. Was it unforgivable?
No…
Everyone made mistakes.
It wasn’t something she could fault him, he didn’t do it frequently. He abstained from drinking… it was just her making a big deal over something that had offended her… wasn’t it?
She didn’t really know, but she knew she was tired of it. She wanted it to go away, and if forgiving him it would do that, she wanted it.
With his arms surrounding her, she didn’t care about near anything outside of him at that moment. She smiled softly. “So, what reason are you giving me?” She asked coyly.
“Tell me you love me,” he repeated, yet again.
She laughed.
“I’m the Okashira around here. No more drinking for you, Aoshi-sama.”
He tilted his head downward, almost cuddling against her. “Aa,” he murmured his mouth against her neck. “Misao…”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me you love me…”
His voice was soft and it had lost the dark edge to it. She tried to squirm around and he released her enough for her to face him, her body twisted. His eyes were clear and she found herself relieved she was again staring into the eyes of the man she’d known practically all her life.
“I love you, Aoshi-sama,” she answered, her voice soft. She curled her hands into the fabric at his collarbones. “But if I ever catch you with another woman again, I’ll maim you both.”
His reaction was muted as he leaned forward to press his mouth to hers.
Upon later reflection, Misao decided it had been, possibly, one of the best things to happen to her. It was one of the times she could look back and see how she’d grown as a person, another small step into adulthood. The world wasn’t perfect and people weren’t perfect either…
Certainly, her Aoshi-sama wasn’t, but she loved him all the same.
That was okay… She could live with that.
Author’s Note:
Thanks to Kettering, who is both inspiring and helpful… it was her notion of “Aoshi says the wrong thing”. I think she’s right about that, now I don’t think I’ll ever get that picture of him out of my head. ^_^
Beta read by Kettering, edited by Menolly. (Both wonderful people, whom I sent the file and then changed the ending sentences. )
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