Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Sundial ❯ Hannya ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

"I'm so happy. 'Cause today I found my friends. They're in my head."

--Nirvana, "Lithium"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 4: Hannya

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Shinomori!"

"Yes? What? Am I in danger? Is that it?"

"Shinomori..."

"Well, out with it." No matter how flippant I am to the voices in my
head, I feel the panic rising as I swim towards consciousness.

"You are in danger. Grave danger."

"Danger of -what-? I'm always in danger. I'm a ninja. IT COMES WITH
THE JOB! DANGER IS WRITTEN INTO THE CONTRACT!" I think I may have
stopped breathing. I hope I haven't fallen asleep in the bath, again.

"Shinomori..."

"Oh, just get on with it. Instill fear and panic into my soul and then
toss me into the waking world..."

"You are in danger, Shinomori. You are in danger of remembering. Too
much pain. It comes. The pain will come with the memories of demons."

Demon. Fire. Sundial. Hannya.

Pain.

I wake up screaming.

What have I done? What have I done? I stare at my hands as the question
echoes in my head, and the scent of burning flesh assaults my nostrils.
Kami-sama, what have I done?

What...have...

I...

Oh. This is my room. Slowly, my hands fall into my lap. I'm sitting up
on my futon, the blankets nowhere to be found. I've tossed them into the
darkness.

At my side, are my sheathed kodachis.

Right beside me...and not tossed across the room.

Is this a good sign? Or a bad sign? I'm not exactly sure.

Bravo, Shinomori, you may have discovered a whole new category of madness.
You're even insane in your sleep.

"Okashira..." The voice outside my door belongs to Okina. Old habits die
hard, I suppose. After last night's meeting, everyone's started calling
me 'Okashira'. Even Misao.

"Okina." I stand up, thankfully already dressed. I wonder if he heard me
screaming. Probably. Unfortunately, I may be past caring. He won't ask
me about it, so what does it matter?

"You were screaming," he says calmly.

Damn. I guess I was wrong. I hate it when people aren't predictable.

"Nevermind that," I reply, sliding the door open. Okina is kneeling
beside the shoji, as if in deference to his leader. I wish he wouldn't do
that, but what can I do? Such habits are instilled in him as deeply as
his wish to protect the Aoiya. "Did you find out anything?"

"There are twenty-three people living at the apothecary compound
currently. The kid, Gouko, should be returning from an errand to
Hachinisasareru headquarters any day. As far as I can tell, he's Tojiro's
second in command now. Apparently, after several of his older brothers
died, he became motivated to quickly move through the Hachinisasareru
ranks, and should now be next in line to become Okashira. As for Tojiro,
he's made plans to return to their northern headquarters as soon as Gouko
gets back, so we'll have to act fast."

I nod. I have only an inkling about how Okina gathered this information,
but I'm certain it involved the old man putting himself in a great deal of
danger.

"Good job," I say, "Go get some sleep."

He gives me a look, a look which tells me that he wants to go back to the
previous subject of me screaming for no apparent reason. Okina knows
something, maybe he even knows the depths of my turmoil. He sees me as a
son, I know he does. Things would have been so different if...

He stands, and I can almost hear his bones creak. Okina isn't getting any
younger. But, I hate to think of him as old, even if his nickname implies
it. I tell myself that he is still a formidable ninja, and that I would
be remiss to exclude him from this, no matter how much I want to do so.

"Aoshi, this is a good plan. Don't worry."

Okina disappears down the hallway towards his room.

It's good information, but it still doesn't explain why the
Hachinisasareru are after the Oniwabanshuu, and me in particular. What
could they possibly gain by my death? And, if they want to kill me, why
attack Okon and Omasu? It eliminates the element of surprise. If you
want someone dead, you kill them. You don't warn them about it ahead of
time unless you have some ulterior motive.

What is the motive? Why would they do this?

Deciding to go to the practice dojo to clear my mind a bit, I step into
the hallway.

Hannya appears from nowhere, just as he was oft prone to do while alive.
He's quite the master of unshinjutsu, the art of being invisible. He'd
have to be, because otherwise a man in an oni mask wearing purple and red
stripes sticks out more egregiously than Shishio Makoto dolled up as a
geisha.

Actual steam wafts out of the nostril holes of his mask. Spooky, right?
Well, it's a trick. When he was alive, that smoke contained a gas which
would cause his opponents to become lethargic and confused. But, since
he is dead, the effect is merely cosmetic.

Hannya steps in front of me and raises his hand to stop my progress.
"Where is it?"

Oh god. He knows.

"It isn't important," I say, trying to sound as utterly convincing as
possible. "It is just a sundial, Hannya. It has no meaning, and no
purpose other than the ability to tell time when it isn't cloudy."

Now the steam is coming out of his mask's ears, too. "WHERE IS IT?"

"Calm down."

"WHERE?"

I can't believe he's yelling at me. "It doesn't matter. I'm still the
Okashira, with or without the sundial."

"You've lost it?" He grabs me by my shoulders. I can actually feel his
ghostly fingers digging through the material of my trenchcoat into my
flesh. It reminds me of rubbing against a cold dead eel. "Do you
realize what you've done? Don't you understand?"

"I.." I don't know what to say. I've only ever -really- argued with
Hannya once before. The surrealness of the experience ties my tongue. If
he were alive, I'd throw him off and point my kodachi at his throat until
he became rational.

I smell fire.

Hannya lets go of me. I wish I could read his expression, his body
language gives too little of a clue as to his state of mind.

"Sometimes, I really hate you, Shinomori Aoshi," Hannya says, disappearing
through application of his masterful arts. "No. That's not true. I
hate the demons which Fate decreed we would become."

Demons.

I look at my hands, half expecting them to be covered in soot, for some
unknown reason.

"Hannya?"

But, it is too late. He's already gone. Will he ever forgive me? Can he
forgive me? Why should he?

How many times can I destroy one man's life?

Oh, Hannya, I'm so sorry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It wasn't long after I left the Temple of the Five Clouds with Okashira
Makimachi Iwayama that I met Hannya. Perhaps no more than a year or two.
The Okashira and I had been traveling back to the Temple to pay
our respects. The Abbot had died of old age while sitting in meditation.

The old guy sure did like to meditate. Must be a peaceful way to go,
don't you think?

Better than any of the ways I've considered, I'm sure.

We stopped in the town below the mountains on our journey back.
Makimachi-san turned me loose on the streets with a pocketful of change.
He told me to go enjoy myself. I suppose he thought I'd buy candy or
something. But, I was too serious of a child. I didn't want sweets or
toys. I didn't want much of anything but to return to Oniwabanshuu
headquarters and to continue training. I had to become the strongest. I
had no time for frivolity.

So, I wandered the streets, looking for something to buy to prove to the
Okashira that I had, indeed, gone and enjoyed myself.

I thought I would buy a book. Machimaki-san would probably frown at that,
but at least it would be enjoyable. But, none of the interesting books or
scrolls were even remotely affordable to me. So, I continued to wander,
unaware that I'd left the safer section of the city, and ambled into a
questionable district.

Then, I was pulled from my thoughts of pleasing the Okashira by a skirmish
in front of a third-rate restaurant. Three large men were shoving a boy
several years older than myself. They'd grab him by his shoulders and
shake him, yelling epithet after epithet, then push him towards the next
man to repeat the process.

"Get out of here, you demon!"

"You bring bad luck, everywhere you go! Don't come around here!"

"We won't feed you, we don't want demons here..."

"Get lost! Don't ever come back!"

"Demon! Evil demon!"

They kicked him until he fell, and he landed right in front of my feet. I
didn't really know what to do. The Okashira told me not to ever get
involved in fights which didn't concern me. And I certainly couldn't take
on three large men all by myself, not at that early stage of my training,
anyway.

I looked down at the teenager. Except for his eyes, his face was
completely covered with a system of rags and bandages. At first, I
thought he maybe had some sort of disease. But, it didn't seem likely.
Those villagers probably wouldn't have even touched him if that were the
case.

He opened his eyes and looked up at me with startling recognition. It was
like he knew everything about me before we had ever even met. Like he
could see into my mind.

I can't recall having ever been afraid before, never in my life, until
that moment.

I guess a demon always knows when he meets another demon.

And he's terrified of what he sees looking back at him.

I bent down, suddenly mesmerized by the young man. He didn't appear to be
wounded too badly, just stunned, winded. As I assessed the damage, the
sunlight glinted off of the sundial hanging from my neck. It must have
flashed in his eyes, because the next thing I knew, the boy had grabbed
the sundial, his hand as quick as lightning, and pulled me close using the
cord.

"This yours?"

"Aa," I replied, attempting to gently pry it from his hands. "It is."

"Time takes all but memories." He read the inscription and then let go of
the sundial. Snorting slightly, the youth turned on his side and coughed
a bit. "Do you think that would be a blessing, or a threat?"

I hadn't really thought about it before. I'd had that sundial as long as
I could remember. The monks said they'd found it with me in the woods.
So, I merely shrugged.

The boy sat up. I noticed for the first time how dirty he was, his
clothes and hands encrusted with mud. He wore peasant pants that might
have once been dark blue, and a rag of a shirt that had been patched so
many times it didn't even have a single color anymore.

I'd never known anyone so poor that could actually read. The boy
definitely piqued my interest, but apparently not as much as I piqued his.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Aoshi. Shinomori Aoshi."

"Hmmmmm." Turning his head to make certain that the thugs which had been
beating him had left, the teenager in the rag masks said, "Interesting
name...for a demon."

I tried not to choke on my own tongue at that statement. Mustering
all of my will, I spit out a return question. "And yours?"

He looked at me as if I had just asked him to murder an infant in cold
blood. "Hannya."

I flinched. Hannya. A female demon of envy, jealousy, and retribution.
Very odd name for a boy.

Curiosity overtook me. Well, I was only eight or nine years old, what do
you expect? "What happened to your face, Hannya?"

"Fire."

"I'm sorry."

Hannya snorted as he stood up and dusted himself off. "Don't be sorry for
me. Be sorry for the poor fool who lit it."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It turned out that Hannya had been living on the streets since he was a
child. From what I understand, his mother died giving birth, and his
remaining family died in the same fire that took Hannya's face. No one
wanted him, none of his relatives, none of the family friends. So, he
eked out an existence on what he could steal and beg. He lived like a
dog, he told me, chased though the streets by fearful villagers.

I took Hannya back to the inn to get cleaned up, and to meet the Okashira.
If anyone would know how to help, it would be Makimachi-san. And, of
course, he did. Our Okashira could always sense discarded potential, I
suppose. So, he made an offer to Hannya. A man without a face sticks out
in a crowd, so why not learn to be invisible? Why not become a master of
unshinjutsu?

The Okashira offered Hannya a chance to live life in peace.

"The lives of men aren't contests of beauty," Makimachi-san said, "A man
shows his worth by what he can do, by his strength and spirit. The
circumstances of a man's birth or life are of no consequence to us. Join
the Oniwabanshuu, and we will value you for who you are, and what you
make of yourself, Hannya-chan."

Hannya looked at me for a long time, just stared at me with an expression
I couldn't begin to describe. Was he sad? Angry? Delighted? Relieved?
To this day, I still don't know.

But, he agreed to join, nonetheless.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hannya trained in the shinobi arts as fiercely as I trained in kempo and
swordsmanship. And then, as an application of what we had mastered, the
Okashira turned us around and had us teach each other. I taught Hannya
kempo, and Hannya taught me to go unseen.

In the process we each became the other's shadow.

But, the more I got to know Hannya, the more he surprised me. At times he
could be cold, aloof with his thoughts, a perfectionist in his studies,
and surpassingly cruel in his assessment of the world. Hannya adored the
family he'd gained in the Oniwabanshuu, but he trusted no one outside of
the clan. And I mean -no one-. The world beyond had judged him a demon,
and in return, he'd decided that everyone else wasn't even worth his
spit.

But then, there was a whole other side to Hannya. It was something you
couldn't discern after meeting the man just once or twice. Beyond his
unfathomable loyalty to the Oniwabanshuu, Hannya just wanted to be a
normal person. He wanted to laugh, to enjoy life, to become just another
person living in this world.

Not a demon. Just a man.

I very much liked the thought that someone the world had rejected could
re-integrate itself into that same world.

And I very much liked Hannya.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I was still quite young when Makimachi-san brought Misao-chan to the
Oniwabanshuu. Her mother was dying of disease, and the child could not
be left alone.

At the time, we didn't realize that the Okashira was dying of the same
disease. He hid it well for some time. But then, slowly, more and more
of his work would be passed to Hannya, myself, or Okina. Eventually,
he was forced to reveal the situation, but the three of us kept the secret
as we attempted to plan for the future.

But, I digress.

Misao-chan came to us.

And Hannya found his life's purpose.

I remember the first time they met. Misao was toddling around the
courtyard, chasing a butterfly with two bowls, trying to catch it. Hannya
came down for breakfast, and as soon as she saw him, she ran up to him.

"You've got a mask, mister!"

Hannya, still a bit sleepy, looked down at the girl in confusion. Most
children ran -away- from him, I suppose.

Hannya tilted his head to one side, blinked, and finally managed to say,
"Yes, I do."

"I made a mask once out of some paper. It was supposed to be a cat, but
it didn't look like a cat at all. Yours is better, though. Why do you
have it?"

From my vantage point on the engawa where I was drinking tea, I watched
Hannya crouch down, bringing himself to Misao's level. His eyes... I'd
never seen him so upset. How do you explain such things to such an
innocent little girl?

"There was a fire," Hannya said quietly, watching little Misao's feet,
"And part of my face fell off."

Misao-chan's face scrunched up, her bottom lip pouting out a bit. I
thought she might cry, or scream, or run away. But, instead, she just
said, "One of my teeth fell out, once. And my eyelashes fall out all the
time. So, I guess parts of my face have fallen off, too." Misao shifted
her weight as her face brightened, "I'm Misao! What's your name?"

"Hannya."

"Do you want to see my butterfly, Hannya-san?" Misao leaned forward, the
two bowls between her hands clenched tightly together to prevent escape.
"They start out as caterpillars, you know? But, all the time they really
have a pretty butterfly hidden inside. I wish people could turn into
butterflies."

Misao lifted one of her bowls carefully, exposing a little yellow
butterfly resting on the inside. Its wings moved apart, once, twice, and
then it took to the air. The fluttering creature circled Misao's head and
came to an abrupt landing on the nose of Hannya's mask.

They both broke out laughing, though probably not for the same reason.
Misao's tinkling giggle mixed so harmoniously with Hannya's deeper
chuckle. They were two notes which forming a perfect chorus.

Later, Hannya came and sat down beside me as Misao tried, unsuccessfully,
to recapture her prey.

"The Okashira's daughter," I explained.

"Mmm," Hannya mused, his eyes never leaving the girl playing in the yard,
"I see."

"What do you think?"

Hannya leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "I think she's the
most amazing human I've ever met."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The problems began when the old Okashira was on his deathbed.

Okashira Makimachi had prepared Nenji (Okina) to take his place. However,
Nenji-san had married Aoki earlier in the year, and wished to be able to
stay close to his new wife. They had decided to open a restaurant in
Kyoto to be a front for Oniwabanshuu activities.

So, that left the Okashira with only two reasonable choices. Hannya, and
myself.

But, Hannya didn't want to be Okashira. What he did want, however, was
Misao.

"She can't stay here forever, Aoshi," Hannya said as we sat together
outside the Okashira's room, waiting to be called inside. The night, cool
and crisp, enveloped our conversation in shadow. "She needs to be a
normal girl, with normal friends, and live a normal life. If she stays
here, she's going to end up dying young, or worse, turn into a demon
like you or I."

"What are you saying, Hannya?"

"Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday, after I've found a
woman who can be a mother to Misao..."

This was Hannya's dream, his dream of becoming a normal man. He'd get
married, open a small dojo, and raise Misao like a daughter. His dojo
would secretly bring in and train potential recruits for the Oniwabanshuu.
And Misao would grow up away from the danger of the Oniwabanshuu's
enemies.

How could I deny a man his dreams?

So, I swore. I swore on my sundial that I would become the best Okashira
I could, making it possible to expand the clan enough that Hannya's dream
would become a necessity. And Hannya swore on that same copper sundial
that he would forever protect Misao, and that he would do everything in
his power to give her the best life he could.

It was our pact. Our promise not only to the Oniwabanshuu and Misao, but
to each other. It was our sworn oath to help each other achieve the goals
we had set for ourselves.

And the sundial was our witness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I forbid it, Hannya, I positively forbid it."

Hannya, his arms crossed, tapped his fingers on the striped sleeve of his
uniform, seething in anger. We'd been arguing in my office for almost an
hour, but probably only about ten minutes of that was actual
conversation. The rest of the time, we just glared at each other.

I'd never had a disagreement with Hannya before, and it was taking every
drop of my restraint not to throw him out of the room. But, I knew if I
did, he'd march down the hall, throw Misao over his shoulder, and leave.
I'd have to fight him, and probably kill him, to get him to stop.

"You're being unreasonable. Minkoto is a very fine woman. Just because
the circumstances have landed her where she is, you've judged her as
unfitting...."

My hand slammed down on my desk, causing the papers piled upon it to jump
as if in surprise. "She's a whore, Hannya. You can not marry a
prostitute."

"And why not?" Hannya uncrossed his arms and leaned against the back of
the chair opposite my desk, "Aoki-san was once such a woman, before she
married Nenji. What is your problem? You're usually so understanding of
the tragic situations in which people sometimes find themselves."

I wanted to tear out my own hair. I wanted to grab Hannya by his
shoulders and shake him until he'd find reason. No. I wanted to find
that whore, Minkoto, and strangle her. Her, marry Hannya. I knew the
scheming little wench had thought this up merely so Hannya would buy out
her contract and free her from her profession. I'd met her several times
through Hannya's attempts to have me bedded by some of her cohorts. She
wasn't a sad case. No. She was a sniveling little social climber intent
on using people for money or contacts. Frankly, I found her repulsive.

"Nenji didn't -pay- Aoki-san to love him, Hannya. She'd already escaped
that life long before they met."

Hannya's hands had clenched so tightly around the back of the chair
that pieces were beginning to splinter away. "It doesn't -matter-.
She'll be a good mother for Misao."

"For how long, Hannya? A year? A month? She'll leave you, and you know
it."

"Why do you think that?" I'd never seen so much anger in his eyes before,
churning and red, as if they actually contained hell, "Do you think I'm
unable to be loved just because of my face? Of all people, I thought you
would be the last to treat me that way."

"No, Hannya." I turned around, staring out the window at the snow falling
in the courtyard below. "I've always thought of you as a brother. And, I
just don't want to see my brother get hurt."

I heard the chair snap into pieces under Hannya's grip.

I thought he would say something to that, or at least throw a piece of the
chair at me. But, when I turned back around, Hannya had disappeared.
The only trace of his existence was a demolished wooden chair.

And the lingering scent of fire.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I found him later sitting in Misao's room, watching her sleep. She'd had
a fever all week, nothing life-threatening, but one of those childhood
illnesses which all normal, otherwise healthy, kids endure.

Personally, I've never been sick a day in my life.

He swept a compress of cool water over her forehead and cheeks, wiping
away a thin sheen of sweat. We would have all taken turns caring for
Misao, but Hannya said there was no use in everyone catching what she had
contracted.

I think mostly, just as always, taking care of Misao made him feel like
he was doing something normal, and human.

"How is she?"

I watched Hannya's wiry back as he put the rag aside and adjusted Misao's
covers. "She's going to be alright. The fever is going down now. Isn't
that right, chibi-kochou?" Misao murmured a half-answer in her fitful
sleep. Slipping his large hand underneath her little one, Hannya nodded
as if he understood whatever she said.

"Hannya," I began, leaning against the wall for support. "About before...
The harsh things I said..."

"It's alright," he replied quietly, "You're just looking out for me. And
for Misao, too. There's no need to apologize, because there is nothing
which needs to be forgiven."

"Are you going to marry Minkoto?"

Hannya's shoulders sunk. "No."

"You don't love her, then?"

Hannya chuckled and shook his head. With his laughter, I finally
understood. He could bed a thousand women, but there would only ever be
one girl he trusted with his demon heart.

And she was holding his hand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After that, things only got worse for the Oniwabanshuu. The Aoiya opened,
but despite its success, it couldn't support us all. With the various
wars having come to a close at the dawning of the Meiji era, the need for
specialized warriors such as Beshimi, Hyotokko, Shikijo, Hannya, and I
grew faint.

We went through some hard times, all of us scraping together what we could
to keep our strange family going.

The government offered me a fairly reasonable position, but no matter how
I haggled, I couldn't get work for my friends. Sometimes, I think that
the Meiji government is run by the most inept and ridiculously blind
bunch of old fools imaginable.

So, we five left. I know how deeply it hurt them all to leave Misao-chan
and the others behind. But, Hannya became downright distraught. His
dream of taking Misao away and the two of them living as normally as
possible seemed to be getting further and further from realization.

And I felt horrible. I'd let him down. Because of my mismanagement of
the Oniwabanshuu, I'd never been able to uphold my end of our pact.

One night, while Hannya was out drinking, my other three comrades and I
looked over a few possibilities for work. We'd had several offers, most
notably from a shady character named "Kanryuu".

"I don't like him," Hyotokko declared, sprawled out on the floor of the
inn room we were all sharing, "He's kinda creepy, ya know?"

"Geez," Beshimi replied, "If Hyo doesn't like him, he's got to be rotten.
Hyo-kun likes everyone."

Hyotokko protested. "Huh? That's not true."

"Name someone you don't like, then."

"Uuhhhh. Ummmm. Uhhh..."

Shikijo had been sitting in the window, smoking a pipe and watching the
stars. "He's got the most money to spare, though."

Quite a perplexing comment coming from Shikijo. I looked up from the
papers. "I never knew you were concerned with getting rich, Shikijo."

"I'm not."

"Then why do you care?"

Shikijo took a deep drag on his pipe and exhaled smoke into the night.
"Hannya."

Hyotokko stopped trying to figure out who he didn't like and turned over
on his stomach to look at Shikijo. "What about Hannya?"

"If he had that kind of money, he could go back and start his dojo.
Kanryuu has enough to make Hannya a rich man. If we took the job..."

If we took the job and gave all the money to Hannya, he could go back. He
easily open his school, and have enough left over to raise Misao. She'd
never want for anything. And when the day came for her to be married,
she'd have quite a sizeable dowry.

And that is exactly what we all decided to do.

At the end of the job, we'd send Hannya home with the earnings.

Unfortunately, we never planned on Himura Battousai.

Fate, I suppose, abhors demons.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Aoshi-sama?"

I blink. Where the hell am I, now? I've lost track of time again.
Aoshi-sama? Misao calls me Aoshi-sama.

Misao. If only I'd been able to protect Hannya, she'd be somewhere else
right now. She'd be living a normal life, as a normal young woman, with
dozens of suitors quaking in Hannya's shadow as they struggled for Misao's
attention.

Wouldn't she?

But, I wonder, would she still be Misao, or would she be someone else
entirely different?

"Aoshi-sama?"

Oh, I appear to be standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The sun is up
now, and little streaks of light are playing with the steam coming off of
a pot of boiling water. Misao has on Omasu's apron. It's a bit big for
her, so one of the straps has fallen around her upper arm, giving Misao a
slightly disheveled look. But, then, she always looks disheveled in the
morning, with her hair down and her yukata wrinkled from sleep.

That's when I notice Hannya standing in the corner glaring at me. He says
nothing. I guess we're not on speaking terms.

Misao tries again. "Aoshi-sama, did you want something?"

"Tea." Do I want tea? I said that I wanted tea, so I must actually want
it, right?

I'm so confused. Where the hell have I been for the past six hours? All
I know is that I smell of pine trees and my throat hurts.

"Oh, of course," Misao replies. She busies herself getting out the
implements to concoct the requested beverage. "I was just making
breakfast for everyone. Though, I think Jiya is going to sleep in a bit
after last night. I'm so glad he got back alright..."

Misao chatters on and on while she bustles about the room. Who knows why
she feels it necessary to talk so incessantly. And yet, Misao's
vociferous nature has never bothered me. There is something so
wonderfully innocent about it, something so delightfully soothing.

"She couldn't keep a grudge, even if she wanted..." Hannya murmurs from
the corner. No longer staring at me, he's now intently watching Misao.
The sadness in his voice lingers in the room like smoke, enveloping me in
a hopeless sinking feeling. Drowning never felt this suffocating. "How
is it that she's forgiven us all? We left her. We abandoned her. How
is it that, no matter what we do, she always welcomes us with open arms?
Oh how we loved her, all of us did. But in the end, I suppose, she was
the one who kept us human. She was the one who, at the end of the day,
changed us from warrior demons back into simple men. Why couldn't she
have been a cruel and heartless little girl? Then I could have hated
her. Then it would have never hurt so much to have been unable to
protect her from the world. It wouldn't hurt so much to leave her
behind."

What is this at the back of my throat? Is someone strangling me? Fingers
digging into my flesh, rending skin from muscle, muscle from bone,
stripping away the outer vestments of what makes Shinomori Aoshi until
there is nothing left. Because there is nothing at the core. Just a
void. This body is just a suit, animated by evil, a puppet for demons who
wanted to play with the world.

I know what Hannya is saying.

He's saying that he'll never forgive me.

For what I've done to him...to Misao...to everyone...

He'll never forgive me.

He hates me. He's always hated me.

"Alright, Aoshi-sama, here's your tea!"

Misao smiles as she turns around. A smile which drops immediately from
her face, followed by the teacup. I lunge forward, hand outstretched and
catch it, inches from the floor. It's a surprising save. Well, I'm
surprised, at least.

As I stand, Misao backs away a bit. Is she afraid of me? Misao has never
been afraid of me. Why is she looking at me like I am going to hurt her?

"What's wrong, Misao?"

"I..." Misao scoots forward again. Tentatively, she sticks out her hand
and takes ahold of the edge of my trenchcoat's collar, inspecting it.
"Oh, Aoshi-sama. I'm so sorry. When I turned around you...well, in the
light you..."

"Aa?"

"I must still be half asleep," Misao says, the fear dropping from her face
to replaced with an ever-genki smile. "Because you looked a bit like
Hannya. But, that's just incredibly silly, right? It's just
that...well...you had your hands over your face and..." Misao turns back
around to stir whatever it is she is making for breakfast. "I don't know
why that would frighten me. Silly Misao. Seeing ghosts again."

"Again?" What? What is she talking about? Kami-sama, I've infected
Misao. It's contagious.

But, Misao doesn't...seem insane.

Well, no more or less than usual, anyway.

"Oh, didn't I ever tell you? Hannya. I saw him before you came back with
Himura. After I was injured, he said I needed to keep fighting, because
you would be coming home. So, I did. I don't know how, but I did. It
was almost like he lent me his strength... But, I guess, it was
probably just that I was delirious from the pain."

I look around in an attempt to pinpoint Hannya, to get some sort sense of
what he's thinking about this. But, of course, he's gone.

"Do you think there really are ghosts, Aoshi-sama? Helpful ones like
that? Do you think I really saw Hannya that time?"

What am I supposed to tell her? Yes, Misao, there are ghosts. I see them
every day. Currently, in fact, I think Hannya is trying to get me to
commit suicide. It's nice, though, that he came to help you out. Maybe
I'll do the same after I'm gone. Yes, after I'm dead, I'll probably haunt
you, following you around like a lost puppy, just to hear your chatter.
Just to watch you forgive everyone who ever hurt you, including me. How
can you forgive me? Why don't you hate me yet? Why won't you give up and
just hate me?

Hannya! Why won't you...

"Aoshi-sama?"

"Does it matter, Misao?" I look at the tea in my cup, watching it ripple
as my hand shakes. I've completely lost control. Without the sundial, I
just can't keep myself together. "Does it matter if ghosts really exist?
If you saw Hannya, and you think he helped you...then...that's all that
matters."

"Mou, I guess you're right," Misao says with a shrug. She spoons large
portions of rice into two bowls, which she places on a tray. "Okay.
After I get Okon and Omasu fed and into the carriage, I'll have Kuro and
Shiro meet us out front. Right, Okashira?"

Misao winks at me and practically skips out the door with the tray.

She always bounces back from everything.

I'm left alone in the kitchen with a trembling teacup. The room suddenly
grows darker, as if outside a cloud has passed in front of the sun.

I've lost control of everything. How am I supposed to fight the
Hachinisasareru like this? Why does it feel like my entire world is being
ripped away?

What the hell is wrong with me?

"At least you saved the teacup from shattering."

Hannya. In a corner. His eyes are glowing red. Fire. I can smell
smoke, pungent and deadly, trying to surround me. Trying to choke me. I
should have been the one. My life...not his...

I'm the demon. Not him. He was never supposed to be...

"Hannya..." Is it my voice? Is it his? The world is dissolving.
Pinpricks of light are stinging my eyes. The kitchen becomes a fire.
Blazingly hot, consuming my flesh, destroying my mind. Burn, Shinomori,
burn. This is the fire you deserve.

But, these voices...

Am I speaking? Who is here?

"I was so glad you didn't remember. I just didn't want you to remember."

"Time takes all but memories."

"No, Hannya, it took yours."

"Take me with you. Don't leave me again. Please don't leave me again..."

"I can't."

"Orukei-chan, I don't want to be alone."

"You aren't."

Someone's hand strokes my cheek, soft and fond. Is this goodbye? No.
Not yet. I'm not ready yet.

Will he ever forgive me?

"I just wanted..."

That is why he keeps leaving.

"...to save Misao's smile..."

Because he always hated me.

"...Since I was never able to save yours."

The truth is...

The truth must be...

He should have killed me when he had the chance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I watch as Misao carefully helps Okon into the carriage. Omasu is already
inside, the welt on her face covered by a delicate scarf Misao found
somewhere in the storeroom. Since last night, the plan has been altered
somewhat. After completing their end of the mission, Okon and Omasu won't
return to the Aoiya.

But, I don't think they'll mind one bit.

"Okay, you two," Misao says, handing their suitcases up to the driver.
"Be careful."

"Mou," Okon says, grabbing a small mirror out of Omasu's hands so she can
check her hair, "We have the easiest part. You should let us come with
you, Misao-chan. I can throw shuriken just as good with my left hand as
my right."

Omasu leans over Okon's lap, "You're the one who needs to be careful,
Misao. Those Hachinisasareru are tricky, and they don't mind hurting
women."

Misao waves her hand dismissively, always smiling, as if she wasn't the
least bit worried about the fight ahead. "I'll put the hurt on them. Big
time. Just you wait. Revenge is a dish best served with genki flare."

Misao closes the door before anyone can protest.

As the carriage rolls off, I survey my troops. Misao is wearing Omasu's
day kimono. I guess she doesn't own one. I'm in a western suit. Kuro
and Shiro have their ninja uniforms, and are carrying ours in a bundle.

They step forward like two soldiers. "We're ready, Okashira."

"Very well. You have your orders."

Kuro flashes me a grin and Shiro chuckles as they leap up to the top of
the Aoiya, taking off across town by leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

Twenty minutes ago, I woke up on the floor of the kitchen.

Hannya was nowhere to be found.

And, since that time, I haven't particularly felt like myself.

In fact, I haven't really felt anything at all.

"Well," Misao says, looking up at the Aoiya, where Kuro and Shiro
disappeared, "Since Jiya is staying here, that just leaves us."

I can feel my kodachis strapped to my back. Yes. That is the one
thing I can definitely feel. "Let's go, Misao."

The day is cool, shaded by clouds which seem to float ever eastward on the
staccato breeze. All life, from trees to weeds, from bamboo to finest
moss, watches as we pass. How interesting we humans must be to those
flora and fauna not acquainted with our troubles.

As we march towards vengeance.

It is a very fine day to learn that you do not threaten the Oniwabanshuu.

You do not threaten Hannya's family.

Ever.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Good afternoon, Shinomori-san!"

It's the same clerk from yesterday. Little toad. I wonder if he knows.
I want to pry those glasses off his face, break off the earpieces, and
stab them into his eyes. Repeatedly.

"Good afternoon," I say genially, bowing as Misao scuffles in behind me.
She's having a hard time walking in the wooden geta. But, I don't think
the clerk will notice. His eyes are on me. Oh yes, he definitely knows.

"Shall I fetch Tojiro-san for you, Shinomori-san?"

"No, we're just here to pick up some items for Okon and Omasu. Some
medicines and some poultices..." And to bring down your utter downfall,
you no-good, sniveling, traitorous... I'll scalp you, and your entire
clan, before this day is through. I'll rend you limb from limb and leave
you begging to die. No, no, Shinomori. You must concentrate. Execute
the plan. Stick to the plan.

Misao quietly heads to the end of the shop containing the shelves of
legitimate pharmaceuticals. I breathe in the musty scent of decades of
dust and mold. The Hachinisasareru apothecary contains none of the
friendly familiarity which it held just yesterday. No, today, I'd rather
see the entire place burn.

"Your name is Nabuki, isn't it?" I approach the counter, my frame
blocking the kid's view of Misao. Be charming, Shinomori. You have it in
you. Just...act like Hiko.

The clerk, Nabuki, nods.

"Well, Nabuki-kun, I'm very interested in snakes." I lean forward,
careful not to glimpse at Misao out of the corner of my eye. I catch his
gaze, and hold it without mercy. "Extremely poisonous snakes. Would you
have any such snakes here in your shop? Or, perhaps, in the back
rooms?"

The kid swallows hard. Alright, maybe that wasn't exactly charming.
Maybe you -do- actually need sake to be as suave as Hiko Seijuro, Or,
perhaps an ego the size of Hokkaido. Either way, causing intense fear
will have to suffice as a replacement.

Nonetheless, I have his attention, and that is all I need.

"Uh. Yeah. Ssssure, Shinomori-san. I have some right here, under the
counter. Just a second..."

Nabuki disappears underneath the counter, and I take the chance to look
over at Misao. Like lightning, tiny white triangular packets appear at
her fingertips as if from nowhere. She flips them behind bottles of
ginseng extract, beneath boxes of dried mushrooms, between packets of
medical teas. Just like her kunai, every single packet of opium hits its
mark.

She's amazing with slight of hand. An incredible thief. But, today she's
not stealing. No, instead she's leaving the Hachinisasareru a little
gift.

Maybe she's not the best warrior. But, I have to admit, she's becoming a
better ninja every day.

"Here you go, Shinomori-san. These little ones..." Nabuki appears from
beneath the counter, holding a small wooden box, "Are from Australia. As
poisonous as you get."

"The most poisonous?"

"Yup. The most poisonous ones we have. One bite will paralyze a man
within five minutes, and kill him within the hour." He undoes the latch
and slides back the top, showing me the foot long black snake coiled up
inside.

Such a small thing.

Who would have known it could be so deadly?

"You have to wonder," I say, peering at the snake, "Why some snakes are
poisonous, and some aren't."

Nabuki chuckles and shrugs, good-naturedly. I bite the inside of my cheek
to check the impulse to pick up the box and throw the snake at him.

"Nature does make it hard to tell, sometimes, which creatures are our
friends, and which ones will do us harm. Don't you think so, Nabuki-kun?"

"Y-y-yes, I guess you're right." He snaps the lid closed on the box. I
think he's getting the idea now. With immense effort on my part, I
attempt a reassuring smile.

It literally makes my face hurt.

"Do you want the snake, Shinomori-san?"

"Yes. I'll take it." I hear Misao's shuffling footsteps behind me. She
steps up to the counter, her arms full of junk she's lifted from the
shelves. She lets it all spill out onto the counter. "And all this, as
well. Have Tojiro-san send me the bill at the Aoiya, as usual."

"Certainly."

Minutes later, Misao and I leave the Tojiro Apothecary, and the attached
Hachinisasareru headquarters. We walk westward, towards the Aoiya, for
several blocks, until we are certain we aren't being followed.

Then we turn down the agreed upon alleyway. Misao sets down her packages
from the Apothecary, and picks up the one left behind by Kuro and Shiro.

"I can't believe you actually bought the snake," Misao says, handing me my
uniform and trenchcoat. She ducks into a forgotten doorway of some
extinct futon shop. "Are you going to keep it?"

Behind a bin of trash, I peel off the western suit, and remove my kodachis
from my back. Keep the snake? I hadn't really thought about it.
"Maybe."

Omasu's kimono comes flying out of the doorway, followed by the geta.
They thunk against the far wall and come to a clattering stop on the stone
ground below.

"So far, so good, right Okashira?"

Misao emerges wearing her uniform just as I slide my trenchcoat over my
shoulders. My kodachis now hang by my side. My sundial is...

Well, you know where it is.

"I hate this part," Misao says, climbing up to the roof of the building
with the ease of a monkey swinging through the jungle. "The waiting is
always the worst. Don't you think so, Okashira?"

"Aa."

I climb up after Misao. In the shadows, we make our way back towards
Hachinisasareru headquarters.

Right now, Kuro and Shiro are hiding on the other side of the building.

Right now, Okon is wailing miserably at police headquarters, spinning a
tale of how she and her sister were abused and enslaved by terrible opium
dealers. And Omasu is dabbing gently at the tears in the corner of her
black eye, bringing the police's attention to the giant welt on the side
of her face. Oh those opium dealers, they would say, their front is this
little apothecary on the poor side of town. They just came to tell the
police before leaving the city...so no one else would get hurt. Such good
citizens, Okon and Omasu.

Right now, Nabuki is running through Hachinisasareru headquarters, looking
for his Okashira, needing desperately to relate the news of the terrifying
visit he just had with Shinomori Aoshi.

Right now, Misao and I will take our places, and wait.

And right now, at this very moment, Hannya's voice echoes in my head.

"At least you saved the teacup from shattering."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sun travels across the sky with cruel precision. I lay on my stomach
on the rooftop of the building across from Hachinisasareru headquarters,
watching the entrance. Two hours, and there has yet to be any movement.
Tojiro must still be deliberating about whether or not I am on to him.

Misao, Kuro, and Shiro are nearby, laying in wait on buildings not far
from my position.

Minutes pass.

Waiting was never hard for me. Not like it is for Misao. My mind goes
blank, focused solely on my mission. There is no nervousness, no
apprehension.

I'm not like Himura. I don't grieve every man I ever killed. Just the
ones I killed senselessly. Just the ones I slaughtered to satisfy my sick
need to prove something for my dead friends.

I'm not some pacifist rurouni out on a mission to save the world from
itself.

If people threaten the Oniwabanshuu, or what remains of it, they will die.

Just like Kanryuu.

Such a mystery, they said. He was perfectly healthy when they put him
-in- the jail cell. And then, for two weeks, he was just -fine-.
Muttering about that Shinomori Aoshi and that Takani woman, and the damn
Battousai. Pleading with the guards to make a deal for his release...

And then one chipper spring morning...

Right after a night of fierce rains...

They found that Kanryuu was no longer in possession of a head.

Such a mystery. Where would a man's head run off to all by itself? Why
would Kanryuu's head leave the rest of his body alone in that locked jail
cell? Tsk, tsk, tsk. A man can't do much of anything without his head.

I still have his skull, you know? I've desecrated it in just about every
way imaginable.

I suppose that makes me a very bad man.

But, of all the horrible things I've done, I would have to say that is
the one which I regret the least.

In the street below, there is finally some movement. Two police officers
arrive on horseback, followed by a good dozen on foot and a wagon behind.
Okon and Omasu were more effective than I had even hoped. A third of the
police in Kyoto must be here.

They storm the front of the apothecary. Thanks to Misao's nimble fingers,
they'll find exactly what they are seek. Packets of opium deftly tucked
into corners and crevices. And in the back rooms, those police will
discover whole laboratories of scientific equipment. Equipment which they
will assume was being used to produce the opium they have found.

So much evidence.

Enough to put the Hachinisasareru out of business for a very long time.

I watch as the police drag the clerk, Nabuki, out of the building and toss
him into the wagon. They'll catch several of the others, I know. But the
more clever members of the Hachinisasareru will steal into secret
passages. They'll jump into trapdoors, and climb into crawlspaces. The
labyrinth they've constructed is massive.

Like a hive of busy little bees, one smells danger, and they all flee.

That is where we come in.

Kuro and Shiro are covering the escape route in the back of the complex.
Misao is positioned at another. And me...

I jump from one rooftop to another, easily making my way to where I know
Tojiro will emerge. His secret escape route leads directly into my path.

Within minutes, Kuro and Shiro snag their first prey. Thwip. Thwip.
I listen to the shuriken fly. Of course, the shuriken merely serve to
distract. Dodge left, dodge right, look for the attacker...

And then when you get ready to run, you fall flat on your face, having
never noticed the rope someone tied around your feet.

An underhanded tactic, perhaps, but quite effective.

I glance at the trapdoor in the Hachinisasareru roof. No Tojiro yet.

Next, I hear Misao. After she's run out of kunai, she'll start kicking
people in the head. Oh, sure. She's small. She may not weigh much.

But, when I think about it, I realize...neither does a bullet.

Still no Tojiro. This is taking too long. Underneath my feet, the
fragile slate roof tiles crunch as I try to find the best angle. I settle
on the slightly raised railing between this building and the next. To my
left, I can see Kuro and Shiro at work.

They have four different men bound with rope, laying on the ground one
next to another like planks of a wooden bridge. For some reason or
another, the pair has decided to pass a bit of time by juggling shuriken,
knives, and other assorted dangerous implements, directly above the
captured men.

"Uh, oh, Kuro...don't drop that knife, you could put someone's eye out."

"My arms are getting a bit tired, Shiro. We haven't practiced in such a
long time..."

The men in ropes are all squirming like worms, trying to wiggle away from
the perverse circus act. Ah, if only Beshimi were here. He'd be so
proud.

"Okashira!"

It's Misao's voice. I still don't see or sense Tojiro. Keeping my eye on
the trapdoor, I cross the roof until I am above Misao's position. Several
men, battered and bruised, lay around her in the alleyway. Moaning.
There's always moaning in Misao's aftermath.

There's usually silence in mine.

Misao looks up, smiling like she's just delivered a surprise bowl of rice
to Hyotokko, as bright as she looked the day Shikijo snuck her
strawberries, as slyly proud as the thief Beshimi taught to steal my
yukata belts, just like the innocent little girl who couldn't
understand the horror behind Hannya's face burning off...

She looks up, and opens her hand. With one swift motion, she tosses the
object contained within into the air. It flips over and over, dragging
the leather cord behind it like a shooting star soaring through the
heavens.

I reach out to pluck it from the air.

I have it. Copper and familiar, my promise, and Hannya's. My sundial.

And that's when terrible pain shoots into my neck.

Like a bee sting.

The sundial slips from my fingers and plummets back towards the ground.

"Aoshi-sama!"

I draw my kodachis as I spin around. How did he? How...

The world grows incredibly blurry. I stumble toward the figure which must
be Tojiro. It laughs at me, low and sinister.

"You didn't think I would take the escape route I knew you knew about, did
you? You must be more insane that I imagined."

With what remains of my rapidly draining strength, I charge the blurry
figure. He easily avoids me, and I land on my face with a thud.

"Tsk, tsk, Shinomori."

"AOSHI-SAMA?!"

Misao. Run Misao.

"She's loud, isn't she?" Tojiro bends down to roughly grab my arm. He's
dragging me across the rooftop. Most of me is protected by my trenchcoat,
except for my left cheek, which is being sliced to bits by the sharp roof
tiles. There's nothing I can do. I've bought this particular poison
from Tojiro before. It isn't deadly, but the paralysis is total and
quick. "Such a noisy little wench. Well, I'm sure she'll make a fine
mourner at your funeral. She'll cause quite a scene for all of Kyoto to
witness."

Summoning every ounce of will, I force myself to speak.

"I'll kill you."

Tojiro drops my arm. Looming over me, he says "Shut up, Shinomori."

And then he kicks me in the head.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Orukei-chan?"

"Aa?"

"Lets leave here, someday, you and me. Okay?"

"What's the matter, Hannya-chan?"

"I...I just don't like it here."

"You can't run away from your problems. You have to become strong enough
to defeat them."

"How long does it take to become strong enough?"

"I don't know, Hannya. I just don't know."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Shigenobu!"

"Yes?"

"Wake up!! You are in danger!"

"Wait, did you just call me -Shigenobu-?"

"Danger. Hachinisasareru. Tojiro. Poison dart. Remember?"

"I'm certain you just called me 'Shigenobu'."

"Of course. That is your name, isn't it? Shigenobu..."

I gasp for air as my eyes fly open. I need to escape. I need to run. I
need to beat my head against something solid until the pain numbs itself.

Unfortunately for me, I'm tied to a chair. The room is impossibly dirty.
I'm not fond of dirt. I'm not certain what it is about killers, but we
just can't stand an untidy world. Himura's got that dojo to clean.
Saitou's office is fastidiously neat. And you wouldn't even believe me if
I told you how many times a day Seta Soujiro washes his hands.

Anyway, the room is dark and dirty. Cobwebs hang at difficult angles. A
thin sheet of dust covers everything, except for a trail leading to the
chair, an Aoshi-sized path bespeckled with blood. I can just make out a
table in the corner opposite me. Moonlight streams in from between broken
gaps in the ceiling.

There's only one word to describe this place. Falling apart. Mm. I
suppose that would be -two- words.

"You just had to go and figure everything out. I never expected that,
Shinomori. You're a surprising man."

The voice comes from behind me. I crane my head to peer over my shoulder.
He's leaning against the wall, cleaning his glasses with the edge of an
old rag. The Hachinisasareru uniforms are much thicker than the sorts the
Oniwabanshuu tend to wear. Ours are designed for ease of movement.
Theirs, by necessity, protect against darts and poisoned weapons with
thick, winding strips of leather. If it weren't for his naked face and
hands, I'd say that Tojiro's clothing makes me think of Shishio Makoto
dipped in tar.

Keeping my neck turned begins to cause the pain in my head to slide down
over my shoulders and back. So, I face forward once again.

"Why not kill me, Tojiro? If that is what you want? Why go through the
whole cowardly charade with Okon and Omasu?"

"Don't be petulant, Shinomori." I hear a slight scraping sound. Knives?
No. Something else. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. But,
you're a smart man. You should have figured out by now that I gain
nothing by murder."

I test my restraints. Tojiro is clever, and being a ninja, knows the
varied ways a ninja might try to escape. I wonder where he's put my
kodachis. They've got to be here somewhere.

The older man moves forward and places his leather gloved hand on my
shoulder. "But, your suicide. Now, -that-, my dear boy, would be
priceless to my clan. What a wonderful chain of events that would set
into action, eh? Poor, crazy, Shinomori kills himself. Little Misao
would lament your passing with such fervor, she'd probably never recover.
The spirit of the Oniwabanshuu would die. Without you, or Misao, the
heroes of Kyoto would be no more. And who could the city blame? No one.
Well, maybe they'd blame you. But, you'd be dead, wouldn't you?"

Tojiro's plan begins to unfold in my head as he speaks. If I killed
myself, there would be no clan war. Misao wouldn't gather the city behind
her and demand retribution upon the Hachinisasareru, because... They
would have never been involved. The Oniwabanshuu would fade into nothing,
leaving a gap that the Hachinisasareru would then seek to fill. They'd
become the premiere clan in the city, the protectors of Kyoto who would
step up after the tragic death of Shinomori Aoshi to keep the city free of
violence...

For a very small price.

"Oh yes, I've been watching you, Aoshi." I can feel his hot breath on my
ear as his words spit from his lips. "Watching you talk to the voices in
your head. Watching you scream at nothing, beg for reprieve from torment.
Every man has demons in his past. But, knowing even as little as I do of
you, I'm betting yours are more vicious than most. You were very much on
the path to silencing your own troubled mind. I know you were. I should
have never listened to Gouko. I should have never been so impatient."

I thrash to the side, throwing as much of my body weight into the movement
as possible, in an attempt to bite the man's face. But, he moves
backwards with a hiss, just out of my reach. "Impatience isn't very
becoming in a ninja. Nor is blaming one's inferiors for mistakes you
have made," I say.

"Ah, but Gouko was no mistake. It is amazing how vehemently he hates you.
But, then, you did kill his older brothers. The Abukuma Foursome. Or,
don't you remember the men you cut down in cold blood, just for spitting
on the graves of your friends? Well, maybe they did deserve it, but Gouko
will never see it that way. Injustice is always magnified in the eyes of
a brother, is it not?"

The Abukuma Foursome. I do remember them. Some pesky little test sent by
Shishio and witnessed by the Tenken. Their grand axes made them so
terribly slow, I'd gutted them all before even one landed a strike. So.
Even the Hachinisasareru had a hand in the Shishio Makoto affair. I
shouldn't be surprised. Tojiro always did like progress and crave
westernization. I wouldn't be alarmed if it were Tojiro who sold Shishio
the plans for his petroleum factory.

"But, I must say, Shinomori, the most amusing accomplice in my plan came
most unexpectedly. Poor little Misao, I hope she never discovers the
extent of the harm she's brought you..."

My fingers dig into the wooden arms of the chair. Splinters break off and
slide under my nails as I grind my teeth in silence. I don't even like it
when he merely says her name. "Misao would not betray me."

"Of course she wouldn't. But, she did come to the apothecary to inquire
some months ago about a tea to help calm your nerves and assist you to
sleep. Tea with Misao. She brought it to you every single day at that
temple of yours, didn't she? And while she rambled on and on, you drank
the brew I concocted especially for you. Slowly, those drugs settled into
your system, collecting in your veins and bones, driving you ever more
insane. But, you struggled, you fought. And valiantly, I might add. So
Gouko suggested we do something to drive you over the edge. Perhaps
attack those two bumbling ninja women who run your silly little
restaurant..."

Tojiro chuckles as the scraping noise continues. No, not scraping.
Crushing, perhaps? Once again I turn my head to attempt to get an idea of
what he is doing. But, he's moved out of my line of sight.

"The problem is," I say, "You've failed. Your clan is behind bars and the
police have seized your equipment."

"Oh, no, Shinomori." Now I hear the slippery sound of liquid, "We haven't
failed. There are still plenty of Hachinisasareru at our mountain
headquarters. We'll set ourselves up in Kyoto once more. But, first, you
will have to be so kind as to kill yourself."

"I'll pass."

"No. I don't think you will." I feel myself being pulled backwards.
Pain shoots into my neck as Tojiro plunges dart after dart into my skin.
Ah, so that's what he was doing back there, making the coating for these
darts. "This concentrated form of the drug I put in your tea will not
only accelerate your hallucinations, but has the added effect of leaving
you quite prone to suggestion. By the time I'm finished with you tonight,
you'll be begging me for a knife to fall upon. Maybe I'll even convince
you to kill Misao and the others beforehand, just so they can keep you
company in the afterworld. Won't that be nice?"

"I'd never harm any of them." The far wall is turning blue, shimmering
like the sea. I blink several times in an attempt to force my vision back
to normal.

"Really? That's not what I've heard." Tojiro steps in front of me,
testing several of the restraints before heading towards a shadowy hole in
the wall which must serve as a door. "Maybe this time you can bathe in
the old man's blood. You'll like that. I'll make sure you're filled
with glee. Now, Shinomori, you struggle as much as possible to help those
drugs work into your system. I'll be back in a while to guide your
insanity in the right direction."

I listen to the night as Tojiro's footsteps disappear. The sky, which I
can make out through the missing planks of ceiling, seems to vibrate and
hum. The monks used to say that everything in the world has a sound, we
just aren't listening hard enough to hear it. The clouds rushing past the
gaps, creating a veil between myself and the stars, they sound almost like
little glass bells. Tinkling chimes fall from the sky, calling me away
from my hell.

Blood rolls off my torn cheek, or is it sweat? It stings my face and
drops from my chin onto my battered uniform. The occasional night breeze
which slips in through the cracks plays innocently at the folds of my
uniform, but sounds...

So distinctly...

Like fire.

The house of Shigenobu will fall.

I'm standing in a white field of snow. No, snow is cold. This is warm,
and filmy. It is raining ash like snowflakes. For as far as I can see,
there is nothing but ash, on the ground, in the sky, slowly coating my
skin, everywhere.

"At first, I have to admit, I wanted you to remember. I was so filled
with hate for a time. I'd been through hell, and you... How healthy and
cared for...you seemed. But, I couldn't do it. By the time Misao came
along, I was praying every day that you'd never..."

I turn around to find Hannya walking through the ash. It creates small
clouds of dust at his feet, turning his lower legs grey. He stops only a
few feet from me, still speaking as the ash swirls around us.

"...recall the name..."

He lifts his left hand to his mask and slowly pries it from his face.

"...our mother gave you..."

As the mask falls from his fingertips, I, too, am falling. Falling
through a chasm, falling through the sea, falling through memories that
time took from me.

"Shigenobu Hannya."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Imagine two houses right next to one another, one large, one small. The
large manor resembles father, Shigenobu Taketo, a man of wealth and
stature, grand and indomitable. The smaller house reminds me of mother,
frail, and gentle, elegant in form and spirit. Her name sounded like the
wind. Koichinuwe. But, everyone called her "Koi-nee".

A little house and a big one. Their shadows forever entwined by Fates
that tend to amuse themselves with human suffering.

My mother was the beloved mistress of Shigenobu Taketo. Everyone knew.
How could they not? He gave her a house right next to his own.

Even Shigenobu's wife knew. Fuyako. I only remember that she had
wrinkles around her eyes. And, she tended to throw things at my head if I
went into her house.

The big house...where father lived.

But, I get ahead of myself.

Fuyako had given Shigenobu two sons, and both, in time, had died. The
elder, a delicate boy, had given in to fever. And the younger, a rowdy
troublemaker, had taken to drinking and fighting. (The latter of which
eventually precipitated his demise.) So, with no more children in the
family, and Fuyako being past the age of childbirth, Shigenobu looked to
the first son of his mistress to carry on his family name.

His name was Orukei.

It means, "To pick the strongest flower."

Orukei was a fine little boy. Healthy, bright, and strong. Koi-nee found
herself ecstatic that he was to be adopted into the Shigenobu household.
He would live a good life, and want for nothing. Eventually, perhaps, he
could even help provide for the little brother and sister that, by now,
would be on its way within just a few months.

Me.

But, Fuyako had other plans. She had a younger brother who had lost his
wife, and wanted to adopt the brother's -legitimate- children into the
Shigenobu family to carry on the estate. Oh, how she must have despised
Koichinuwe, the elegant mistress which had stolen her husband's heart.

She despised my mother so, that in a fit of rage, Fuyako took a knife and
slashed at Koi-nee's face, stealing her beauty in three simple strokes.

Fuyako kept after her husband, demanding that he send his mistress away.
But, he replied that he would not do so. No, not while she was pregnant
with his child.

Koi-nee was in despair. As soon as her second child was born, she'd be
out on the streets. What chance is there in the world for a woman with a
scarred face and no trade other than to charm men?

There is none.

I don't remember it, but my brother told me many times about the starless
night when I was born. Even the heavenly bodies of the sky hid their
faces as I came into the world. Were they afraid? Afraid of what one
woman can be driven to do to protect her sons?

Jealousy is a horrible thing in the heart of a woman. How can you fight a
woman of higher stature? When you have no position at all, how can you be
assured that your children will be safe?

My mother called upon the female demon of retribution, that terrible
spirit of a woman's heartache and longing. She named me "Hannya".

I was a demon from the day I was born.

And then, after placing her second son in the arms of the nurse, my mother
swore by every demon she could name, that should her sons ever be
mistreated by the Shigenobu family, she would personally rise from the
dead and haunt them for all their living days.

Before she left this world, before she slid that knife into her gut, she
gave her newborn son the sundial she had treasured since her days as a
girl. Inscribed on that copper piece were the words she hoped would
protect him from the fate which had befallen her.

"Time takes all but memories."

And time took Koichinuwe, that night I was born.

Shigenobu was horrified. And his wife cowered in the shadow of his rage.
Surely if they turned out Orukei-chan and Hannya-chan onto the streets,
those boys would come back someday for revenge. Not to mention the
terrible threat of Koichinuwe to destroy their lives from beyond the
grave. In such an unscientific age, you must understand, people remained
quite worried about the fury of ghosts and spirits. Such supernatural
affairs could afford no frivolous tampering.

So, Hannya-chan and Orukei-chan remained in the small house that stood in
the shadow of the large manor, attended by the nurse who had brought
Hannya into the world.

we grew, together. Oh, those days were comfortable ones. We played at
sword-fighting with sticks, and took our dinner in the gardens. Together,
we were the best of friends. Orukei-chan and I, brothers, we had each
other, even if we had nothing else.

And then, one day, I came to understand that we were not particularly
welcome in our own home.

There were small things, at first. Whispers so faint they seem like I
must have been imagining them. "That's the whore's little demon boy," I'd
overhear in the garden as I played. Fuyako's company would nod knowingly
as she pointed me out. "Only four years old and he never laughs. Never
smiles. Only a demon child would be like that."

"Oh yes," one of her officious little friends would say, "See how strange
his eyes are. Such a terrible shade of green. They say that sea demons
have eyes like that."

Four years, and already Fuyako had begun to forget my mother's warning.
She'd grown courageous and bold. She schemed at every turn to make us
look disrespectful and lazy in our father's eyes. When no one was around,
she'd toss us around like rag dolls. Bastard children, that is what we
were. And I was the foul demon boy. She'd spit at us, and kick dirt in
our faces. Orukei-chan tried his hardest to protect me. He'd bandage my
bruises and cuts, and sing me to sleep.

But, we were just little children. Where else could we have gone? What
else could we have done?

And then, one day, our patron, our father, died when he fell from his
horse. We were not allowed into the main house, not allowed to go and say
our goodbyes to our father.

"No demons in the house of Shigenobu. Never again." That is what Fuyako
said.

Her brother's children would inherit the large manor. And Fuyako declared
that she would go to live in the small house all by herself.

As for the bastard children who lived there before, they could become
servants. Strong boys such as Orukei-chan and Hannya-chan would have no
problem laboring in the rice fields.

But that house, that little house, was my mother's house. It was my
home, and Orukei-chan's. Our father had intended us to live there as
long as we wished. I know it. It was never meant to become a home to
such a cruel woman.

And so, that day, when I was only a few months shy of five years old, I
did something which perhaps even the Fates never expected.

It was the first night Fuyako was to stay in the little house. I crawled
out of the servant's quarters, the little shack to which Orukei-chan and I
had been moved. In my threadbare yukata, I made my way through the
gardens. I knew them all like the back of my hand, like every groove of
my sundial.

I hated her...so much. Maybe I was a demon. Maybe, indeed, I wasn't like
the other children, who smiled and enjoyed themselves, carefree and
innocent. I had been born of a woman wronged. I was, just as she named
me, Hannya, demon of a woman's retribution.

In each hand, I held a lamp to light the way. Orukei-chan's lamp, and my
lamp. I crawled into my house. My house. My mother's house. And I
slipped through hallways and corridors, through rooms and doorways, until
I found Fuyako sleeping on her futon, snoring like a beast.

It isn't very hard to set a fire. You just touch a flame to dry silk, and
it will light up like an inferno. And Fuyako had brought with her a great
deal of silks, and expensive damasks, and gauze. I pulled them all around
her futon in a circle, and just barely touched my candle to the cloth. So
faint. Like a timid kiss. Like a butterfly landing on a petal.

And then I left her room. I shut her shoji and jammed it closed with a
piece of wood, just like Orukei-chan and I used to do when we didn't want
our nurse to bother us while we played.

I set other things on fire as I walked through the house. Everything
which didn't belong there. Fuyako's giant Chinese pillows. Fuyako's
books and scrolls. By the time I got to Fuyako's paintings, I could
already hear her screaming.

Begging.

Moaning.

And then, all of a sudden, I felt glorious. For the first time, I smiled.
I smiled as the fire grew behind me. I smiled as I walked out into the
chilly night, serenaded by Fuyako's pleas for help. This was joy. This
was happiness.

Finally, Fuyako knew what it meant to have a demon in the house of
Shigenobu.

From behind a tree, I watched the conflagration grow. I wanted to see her
dissolve into ash. I wanted to capture every single scream so I could
remember them forever.

And then...I heard it. That terrible...heartbreaking...soul wrenching
sound.

"Hannya-chan! Kami-sama, Hannya-chan!"

Orukei-chan.

He'd come looking for me when he'd discovered I was missing. And, of
course, the first place he went to look was our old house. He rushed
inside, braving the flames, searching desperately for his little brother.

By the time he stumbled out the front door, the damage was already done.

The entire right side of his face was burned beyond recognition.

And I never smiled without forcing myself to do so, ever again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Those next few weeks were a blur. Orukei-chan and I ran and ran. For a
time, we sought shelter at the house of our old nurse's mother, Iyoko.
She patched up Orukei as best she could.

He was in such an incredible amount of pain. At night, I could hear him,
moaning softly in the bed next to mine. The palms of his hands
became scarred from where he dug his fingernails into his own flesh to
help forget the agony. Crying only stung his burnt flesh.

And I, I was the demon who had burned away his face.

I couldn't look at him. Not because of how torn and burnt his face had
become, but because I was so ashamed. I didn't deserve to have such a
brother. It wasn't right that an evil child like me should have someone
care enough to run into a burning house for his sake. If it took eternity
for him to forgive me, it would be too soon.

But, they were looking for us. We couldn't stay at Iyoko's house long.
As soon as we could, we hitched a ride with on a farmer's cart traveling
north. So, we left our town. Me, clutching my sundial, and Orukei with
his burnt face covered in rags.

Orukei was only ten or eleven, I think. Such an awful burden, to be
dragging your little brother towards nowhere. Where could we go? I
certainly didn't know.

We came to a forest at the base of a mountain. I caught fish, and Orukei
cooked them. He wouldn't let me get anywhere near fire anymore.

I tried to tell him I was sorry. I was so sorry. But, every time, it
just got caught in the back of my throat. It wouldn't come out of my
mouth any more than a smile would find my lips.

"Hannya," he said one day, "We can't go on like this. I've found a place
where you can go. There are people there who will take care of you."

"And you, Orukei? You too?"

He looked at our smoldering campfire, his eyes permanently hardened by
the fire which had taken his face. "No. I'm going to go on."

"No," I whispered, "Please, Orukei. I know I'm bad, and that you
must...you must hate me. But...but...don't leave me. I don't want to be
alone."

His eyes darted up from the fire and locked on mine. "I don't hate you,
Hannya. You must never think that."

But, if I were him, I would hate me. "Then why?"

"I'll go out into the world and make a place for us. And then I will come
back for you. We'll be together again, okay?"

Even though he said it, I didn't really believe it. Could I really blame
him for wanting to get rid of me? The reminder of pain? How long did I
really expect him to want to be around the boy who destroyed his life?

I should have been the one to burn in that house.

I should have been the one who lived like a dog on the streets.

I should have been the one to die by Kanryuu's guns.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He stands. The glade, that pale purple glade of four trees casts him in
an otherworldly glow. In the distance, I hear the resonant tone of a
temple's bell. "Lock your memories away, little brother. Lock them in
your sundial, and never, ever, let them out." He turns. Is he smiling?
Is he crying? I don't know. Will he ever forgive me? Does he love me
anymore? Does he?

He's leaving me. I'm going to be all alone, and I deserve it

"Don't worry," he says as he disappears into the forest, "I am the demon,
now."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hannya..."

Somehow the chair I was sitting in has fallen over on its side. No.
Wait. My head is just tilted. I lift it to find myself in the same dirty
room in which Tojiro left me.

Hannya is sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of me. He chuckles
softly and pokes my knee. "This is a fine mess, now isn't it? Beshimi
will laugh when I tell him you fell victim to something as simple as a
poison dart."

"Hannya..." I whisper. My throat is so dry. "You're...dead."

He clicks his tongue before letting out a resounding chuckle. "Where did
you learn to be so fantastically eloquent, hm?"

"I'm probably going to join you, soon."

"I'd rather you not," he replies, resting his chin on one hand. "I'd find
it rather annoying, especially considering I died trying to save your
life. Besides, if you make Misao sad again, I swear by our mother's
grave, I will find a way to raise you from the dead and haunt you all
over again."

"I don't think I have much choice in the matter."

"We'll see." Hannya sighs a bit and looks up at the patchwork sky. "It
reminds me of the night you were born. The stars kept hiding. I guess
the moon was too bright, those pinpricks of light didn't want to be
compared to such magnificence. But that night...the night of the
fire...there were so many stars. If it weren't for them, I would have
never found my way. I'd misplaced my lantern, I suppose..."

"No, I took it."

"Ah, well, that explains things."

We're both very quiet for some time. I know, I know that if I don't say
it now, I might never get a chance. But, how can I? The words feel as
sticky as glue. But, I must. He has to know, just in case...we aren't
able to meet up in the afterlife.

"Hannya. Listen to me. I'm so sorry. For the fire, and for Kanryuu.
I'm sorry I failed you as your Okashira, as a friend, and as a brother. I
just don't even know where to begin to try to tell you how sorry I am. I
don't expect you to forgive me. I can't even fathom the pain I have
caused you..."

"Aoshi."

"Hm?"

"I forgave you a long time ago. The only one who needs to forgive
you...is you. It's me. I'm the one who was a bad brother. I left you.
I abandoned you. Twice. Oh, how we loved you, all of us did. In the
end of the day, you gave us warrior demons a home, a place to go to return
to being simple men. If you had been a cruel and heartless man, we never
would have learned how to live our lives as honorably and courageously as
we did. It always hurt me so much not to have been able to protect you
from the world. It hurt so much to leave you behind. But, you grew to be
strong, you grew to be a fine man, Aoshi. I am so proud...so proud to
have known you, as my leader, as my friend, and as my brother."

I may be crying. I'm not exactly sure. Something wet is rolling down my
cheek, at any rate. "We're a fine lot of regrettable stains upon this
Earth's crust, aren't we, Hannya?"

"Speak for yourself. The ladies adore me."

I try to chuckle, but it just comes out as a pathetic gurgle. My head
lolls forward slightly. I think I may have lost some of the muscle
control in my neck.

"Aoshi, about Misao..."

"Aa?"

"You know, if you talk to her, she'll listen to you."

I sigh and feel my own hot breath blown back against my face by the
breeze. "I doubt I will get the chance."

"Such a defeatist attitude. I never could get you to lighten up." Hannya
bends a bit to catch my eye, "You know, the world doesn't seem so bad when
you smile. Even without a face, I tried it every now and again. And you,
little brother, I want you to smile, too."

"Hannya...I..."

Hannya's gloved hands reach up to his mask. That carved oni mask which
should have covered my face... He sets it on the ground next to his left
knee, and then looks up at me.

His face...

It's all there.

All the skin is where it should be.

And he looks...so much like me. His eyes are a little deeper blue-green.
His hair is a little longer. But, our faces are shaped so similarly.
Same nose. Same brow.

The only thing that is really very different is that he is smiling...and I
am not.

"Just say you'll try, alright?" Hannya asks as he leans forward and
ruffles my hair. His touch seems to drain the unbearable pain which has
been assaulting my head for hours now. "Try to smile, someday soon."

"I will, Hannya. I promise."

"Swear by your sundial?"

What else can I do? That's all he wants? I owe him so much more
than that, but all he wants is for me to smile? "Yes. I do."

"Good." He stands up and brushes off his hands, "Well, it looks like it
is about time for me to go."

"You're going to disappear, just like the others?"

"Nah." He turns around, "I've been disappearing all my life. I'm tired
of unshinjutsu. This time, I think, I'll just use the door." He stops
right before the shadowy doorway envelops him, and looks back over his
shoulder, "You take care, little brother. You may not see me, but I'm
keeping my eye on you."

He smiles at me.

And then he is gone.

Hannya has left me again. But, at least this time, I know, he isn't
really gone. He doesn't hate me. He didn't abandon me. He's nearby,
somewhere, just beyond the veil of things the human eye can see. Just
like the sound of the clouds, the smell of the sky. Even though I can not
perceive it, it doesn't mean it isn't there.

I take a deep breath. Tojiro's darts were supposed to make me -more-
insane, but they seem to have had an effect even Tojiro didn't plan on.
They made me remember.

Exhaling slowly, I wonder if now would be a good time to start meditating
again. Maybe I could clear my mind enough to figure out how to get out of
here.

"Pssst."

Maybe I could hold out long enough to convince Tojiro that I want to kill
myself and then use the knife...

No. He'd never believe it.

"Pssst."

Maybe I could somehow use the chair to which I am tied to knock him over.
And then I could jump on him with the chair legs...

"Pssst!"

What the hell is that noise? What am I hallucinating now? I look up,
trying to discern the source, only to see a very familiar face peering
back at me from the cracks in the roof.

"Pssst, Aoshi-sama! I'm here!"

Misao waves at me.

How did she find me? "How did you find me?"

Misao pushes some of the loose boards away to make a hole big enough to
crawl through. She jumps into the room with ease, landing with the grace
of a wild jaguar. "I'm not quite sure. It was very strange." Misao
fumbles with the ropes and leather straps binding me to the chair, "I kept
hearing Hannya's voice. It was like he was telling me where to go.
Doesn't that sound crazy?"

Completely crazy, Misao. Very crazy. I'm so glad you're insane.

She gets my arms undone and leaves me to do my feet while she searches the
room for my kodachis.

"Where's Tojiro-san?"

"Unknown." My feet freed, I attempt to stand up, and find the spinning of
the floor makes it utterly difficult to remain balanced. "I've been
drugged."

"So you have," Misao replies. She hands me my kodachis and after several
attempts, I finally loop the sheath through my belt. "We better get out
of here before he returns."

"Too late." Misao and I both spin around to find Tojiro holding a
revolver leveled at us.

Guns.

I -hate- guns.

I hate guns, and dirty rooms, and the Hachinisasareru, and Tojiro.

Unfortunately, the only thing keeping me standing is the fact that I'm
using the chair to balance.

Misao's face scrunches up. "I don't like you."

"Feeling is mutual, wench," Tojiro says as he takes several steps forward.
"I really didn't want to have to kill you. But, since I have you both
here, I guess I will have to improvise."

"No," Misao reiterates, "I mean I -really- don't like you."

"Whatever."

"Argh!" Misao throws up her hands in annoyance, "Why doesn't anyone ever
take me seriously?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So, this is what happened.

Before you could say, "Makimachi Misao", a kunai snapped through the air
and hit Tojiro directly in the eye.

Tojiro dropped his gun, and it went off, shooting Misao in the foot.

Misao screamed. Tojiro moaned. And they both fell down.

And as Tojiro clawed at his face, trying to remove the kunai that had
destroyed his eye, I became a man possessed.

Perhaps literally. Neither Hannya the elder brother or Hannya the younger
brother lets -anyone- get away with injuring Misao.

I'm not exactly certain how many times I stabbed Tojiro, but it could be
termed, at the very least, "numerous".

Then, the world suddenly no longer spinning, and my senses clearer than
they'd been in a long time, I picked up Misao. She never did weigh very
much.

And before I left that place, I set it on fire.

That's what happens to people who mess with demons.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three weeks later. The Aoiya.

"Shinomori!"

"Yes?"

"Wake up! You are in danger!"

"I thought we'd gotten past this."

"Danger!"

"What sort of danger, then?"

"YOU ARE IN DANGER OF MISSING BREAKFAST!"

My eyes fly open as I am filled with incredible panic. I'm met with the
sight of a tiny tongue flickering about two centimeters above my eyebrow,
and the feeling of something crawling in my hair.

"Ssst. Sssst."

"Aha. Orukei-chan." I pick the snake out of my hair and sit up. "How
did you get out of your cage?"

The little snake's tongue flickers at me in response.

It turns out that, in fact, Orukei-chan is -not- poisonous. He is just
your normal, everyday garden-variety snake.

But, how we found -that- out is an entirely different story altogether.
Though, it does involve a very amusing tale of Okina trying to suck
non-existent poison out of Okon's inner thigh.

Another time, perhaps.

I place Orukei-chan back in his cage and snap it closed. Okon says that
under no circumstances will there be snakes at any meal in the Aoiya, and
she doesn't care if I -am- the Okashira.

I usually retaliate to such statements by threatening to send Omasu on
missions up to Hiko's cabin to pick up new dinnerware for the restaurant.

Speaking of which, Okon and Omasu say they had a lovely time up at the old
hermit's house after leaving the police station. The three of them spent
two days waiting for a certain Hachinisasareru second-in-command to return
from the mountain headquarters.

Oh, we didn't forget about Gouko. No way.

Of course, when faced with a very cross master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu,
Gouko didn't have much of a chance. From what I understand, Hiko Seijuro
doesn't take kindly to men who choose to harm women.

After letting Okon and Omasu get their punches in, I hear that Hiko strung
Gouko up in a tree. Then, Okon and Omasu treated the irascible hermit to
a picnic and all the sake left in the Aoiya.

When they left, Gouko was still up in the tree. Hiko promised to take
-very- good care of his new acquisition. I don't think Hiko will kill
him. But, I still feel sorry for the boy, nonetheless.

Well, alright, I don't -really-.

Anyway, back to morning, to my room, and my impressive scramble to get
ready.

First, get dressed.

This is harder to accomplish than you might think. First of all, I can
never find my uniform these days. It isn't on the chair. In fact, I'm
not sure -where- it is. Did I wear it yesterday? No, I don't think I
did. Perplexing.

Fine, I'll just wear my yukata.

If I wear my yukata, there isn't really any reason to wear my kodachis.
Well, it isn't like I'm going to be attacked while eating breakfast.
Unless Omasu has taken to procuring vicious man-eating forms of melon, I
think it will be alright.

The trenchcoat, obviously, can stay on the hook.

Well, then, all I really need, I guess, is my sundial. I pick it up off
the dresser and place it around my neck.

There. Finished. No need to worry.

Second, go directly to the kitchen.

No. Wait. I'm getting those mixed up.

Second, go directly to Misao's room.

The walk down the hallway is short enough. I rap on Misao's shoji. I
hope she's already awake. If she isn't then my whole morning schedule
will need to be rearranged. "Misao."

"I can walk by myself! That's what the crutches are for, Aoshi-sama."

"Misao... Your wrist..." Oh. Certainly. Crutches are wonderful
inventions for just about anyone -except- Makimachi Misao. She tries to
walk just a bit -too- fast, gets just a bit -too- genki, and the next
thing you know, -thud-. She fell off the engawa and sprained her wrist.
She's a danger to herself, to the rest of us, and to pretty much anyone
who pisses her off.

(I asked her, after we returned, where she had been aiming her kunai.

"The eye, of course," Misao replied with a smile, "I hardly ever miss."

I may not be the only demon living in the Aoiya.

Well, we are, after all, the Oniwabanshuu.)

"Alright, alright. Come in. I'm dressed now." I enter to find Misao on
her futon, trying to put her hair into a ponytail with one hand. She
can't braid it by herself with her wrist sprained. "Argh! Stupid thing.
Stupid...hair. Now I know why you cut all yours off when you were
younger, Aoshi-sama. Such a...bother."

"Here." I take the tie from her and do my best job of at least tying it
up so it won't fall in her face while she eats.

"Thanks." She looks up at me with those sleepy Misao eyes. "You're going
to let me walk, right?"

"No." Talk about -danger- in the morning.

"Fine." Misao pouts just like she did when she barely came up past my
knee. "But, I, Makimachi Misao, am no invalid. Right? I won't be
carried like some crippled little girl. I'm a ninja."

Yes, Misao, you are.

I take Misao's good wrist and turn around, hefting her onto my back.
She's a little heavier than I remember, but she's still incredibly light.
I loop her legs through my arms and stand up.

"Doorway." Misao ducks her head, leaning it against my shoulder as we
walk down the hallway towards the courtyard. All the remaining
Oniwabanshuu gather every morning for breakfast before starting our
various work for the day. The Aoiya is as busy as ever, and I, I have a
new project. Just last week I acquired an old apothecary on the other
side of town at government auction. They say it used to be an opium
factory, but I think I'll turn it into a book store. And yet another
front for Oniwabanshuu operations, of course.

Misao and I head down the stairs. She's babbling about how excited she is
about the new bookstore, and about Omasu's new kimono, and about Okina's
supposedly secret trysts with the widow down the street.

We emerge into the courtyard.

I love breakfast. Being with my friends is the best part of the day.

Unfortunately, Okon is on the engawa screaming bloody murder. "Go! Go go
go go!" She's slapping Shiro on the back with her hand, "There's a mouse.
A mouse in the kitchen. Go catch it!"

"You're a ninja. You catch it."

Kuro scratches the top of his head. "Geez, Okon, you aren't afraid of a
little mouse, are you? I mean, Omasu doesn't seem to be scared."

"Omasu doesn't believe me!"

"I don't believe you're causing such a racket."

"Please, Shiro...please..."

"Alright, lets go find that mouse before Okina comes down here and sees
you making such a fuss." Shiro grabs Okon's arm and drags her into the
kitchen, followed by a chuckling Kuro.

And Misao and I are, quite completely, ignored.

I'm a bit stunned for a moment. Even Misao is silent. I lift one eyebrow
and look at Misao. Misao lifts an eyebrow and peers at the kitchen door.

"I don't think we're..." A surprised scream comes from the kitchen.
"...going to get breakfast, Aoshi-sama."

I shrug. I guess not.

"Unless you want to wait." There's a tremendous clatter of pots and pans
coming from behind the door.

"We'll wait." Breakfast is one of the most important meals of the day.
And, Hyotokko would be quite upset if I didn't eat. I carefully set Misao
down on the engawa. Her long thin legs dangle over the edge. I sit down
next to her.

The morning sun is bright and clear, shining on our feet, though the
overhang of the porch keeps our faces shaded. Okina's garden is quite
relaxing, with the little fountain in the distance shimmering like too
many of my hallucinations. Misao leans her head against my shoulder. I
can feel how warm her cheek is, even though my yukata's sleeve. Together
we watch the sky turn from dawn's golds and purples to morning's blue.

"Misao?"

"Yup?"

I chew on my lip a bit. Such personal conversation is still strange and
difficult. But, it gets easier every day. Especially talking to Misao.
Hannya was right. She's a surprisingly good listener.

"My uniform. It used to be on my chair every morning. Do you put it
there?"

"No." Misao looks up at me with the oddest expression on her face.
"You're talking about a long time ago, right? Before you left?"

I just stare at her, completely confused.

"Before you left, Hannya used to make sure your uniform was laid out every
day. He said you had too much to think about to worry about such
insignificant things yourself."

Did he?

Even after...

I guess he always was looking out for me, even when I didn't notice.

My hand closes around my sundial and I lift it from my neck. My fingers
know every groove, every bump. I run my thumb over the raised dial,
feeling the sharpness which has never dulled.

I don't know how much of my insanity was the tea, how much was keeping
myself from remembering, how much was grief, and how much was anger. But,
every day now, I'm learning just a bit more how to live with the demon
I've always been. I'm always learning just a bit more how to, just
sometimes, stop being Shinomori Aoshi, deadly demon warrior Okashira of
the Oniwabanshuu, and be Shinomori Aoshi, human, friend, and simple man.

But, I don't want to become -too- simple. I might end up like Himura.

"Misao..."

"Yup?"

"I want you to have this." I press my sundial into Misao's uninjured
hand. She looks down at it in surprise. "It is very important to me. It
belonged to my mother."

"Really? Aoshi-sama?"

"Yes." I reach down and curl her fingers around it. "Take care of it for
me."

"No," Misao says with a laugh, "I mean you -really- had a mother? I just
can't imagine that! Little Aoshi-sama. I just can't imagine..."

Right now, I'm laughing. I'm actually laughing with Misao, right here on
the engawa of the Aoiya. It isn't hard to do at all. It just comes over
you, and there you are...laughing with your best friend in the whole
world.

"Look Aoshi-sama! A butterfly!"

A little yellow butterfly flutters around the courtyard, dipping here and
there, checking everything for perfection, making sure our home is as it
should be. On a fine summer breeze, a little yellow butterfly swoops over
the pond, circles our heads, and lands on the engawa right next to my
knee.

I guess Hannya is laughing, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The End.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

***Author Notes:

Phew. Long chapter. Well, Sundial is finished. What a long, strange
chapter, and journey, it has been. I read on a Yahoo! group that this
story is "unconventional". Well, maybe it is. I guess it isn't your
typical Aoshi/Misao type romance. But, I never really billed it as a
romance. People kept asking me if the pair would get together in the end.
I don't think it works as well as them becoming best friends. Most good
romantic relationships are built on friendships, after all.

I think the humor in this chapter is a bit more subtle. I didn't think
I'd put anything funny in there, at all, until I went back and read it
again, and then I found a few chuckles. A lot of angst, I suppose, but
hopefully there is enough lightness to contrast.

And, of course, would it really be an Angrybee story if -someone- didn't
have a missing or lost or unknown brother? Hm. I seem to use that theme
quite a bit. (I suppose it is my favorite sub-plot.)

Oh, if you are interested, ChiisaiLammy has done an incredibly lovely
piece of fanart for this story. A link can be found on my website,
angrybee.vze.com, in the "Fanfiction extras" section. Check it out. CL's
painting is filled with beautiful hues of swirling red and amazing golds,
and a sundial to boot!

***Review Notes:

Thank you to everyone who followed this story, for your kind reviews and
your great encouragement. I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as
much as I enjoyed writing it.

So, a very special thanks to:

KittyKatana (Hope you could handle that sort of ending.), aoi yume,
Blurry, Airna (Thank you for the compliment!), Lizzy44, tina, TokyoTeen13
(Oh no! Don't drown!), Dana Daidouji (Well, a few injuries. But, they
are heros, they will survive. Wink.), Silver Miko (I probably should
have written this story without the plot. But, oh well. Too late now.),
Sailor-Earth13 (That's right! Crack the whip!), Wistful-Eyes (Did I
answer all my questions? I don't know.), Wolfgirl13 (Woohoo! Thanks for
reading.), damselindistress2 (Well, this time he didn't get his own words
thrown back at him, at least. Heh. Sneaky Hannya.), Ooka-chan (Ever
consider a Jakken-in-the-box? HAAHAHAH.), Maeve Riannon (Poor Hannya,
indeed. He needs to slap Aoshi around more.), Gia (Better to be sucked
into the story than the story sucking, right? Heeheh.),

Gemini1 & Barbara Sheridan: Hey now! This isn't some sort of strange
post-drowning Hiko and Aoshi hentai story. Get your mind out of the
gutter. This is a Hannya hentai story and don't you forget..*censored as
Angrybee is torn to shreads by disturbed fans*

eriesalia: Ahahaha. You know, I was once considering an AU story with the
Oniwabanshuu as crazy hackers. Hackers are definitely the ninjas of our
day and age, aren't they? I hope you don't mind that I stole your
"completely useless on a cloudy day" idea. Teehee!

Nigihayami Haruko: You teared up? Oh my. Well, I hope you like this
chapter as much as the last one. It takes a while to get started, I
think, but has some good stuff towards the end.

unique-starfish: Oh. My username? I like bees. And I like the concept
of "stinging" in writing. Stings wake you up, make you go "what what?",
and then stick with you for days. I hope to be the angry bee which stings
with words, well, someday, anyway. :D

kenshingentatsu: Actually, I was quite sick for a few weeks. Angrybee
had, indeed what she likes to call "Lungdeath". Me and Okita, we're like
this (crosses fingers). But, Angrybee is much better now. *cough*
Really. *cough* I could slay an entire division of Choshuu soldiers.
*cough* Teehee.

mij: Have fun on your overseas journey! I hope you enjoy the chapter
when you get back. Anyway, I always thought there could have been so much
more to the stories of the Kanryuu-arc Oniwabanshuu. They're an
interesting bunch. And, since they aren't as developed as someone like
Anji or Soujiro, you can have a lot of fun writing in a good past for
them, I think. :D

ChiisaiLammy: Well, maybe I miss writing that story a bit, yes. But, I'm
glad to have finished both of these, now. Thankfully, Aoshi in this story
is ten times easier to write than Saitou in H&T. Crazy people can think
or say anything and get away with it. It is the ultimate out-of-character
excuse, I suppose. Anyway, I have seen some really well-written
Aoshi/Misao stories, but they are -very- few and far between. I do like
to think of them more as best friends, or brother and sister. No, that
isn't even it. Misao looks up to and idolizes Aoshi, and Aoshi needs
Misao to keep him human. Maybe some relationships are just best left the
way they are, without definitions.

Karta: Yeah, I probably should have though up a different name for an
evil badguy ninja clan, but I really like the "Poison clan" idea (a thread
which is the same in both this story and H&T), so I stupidly kept the
name. Anyway, the Hachinisasareru in 'Hajime and Tokio' are -far- more
interesting, I agree. These guys are more like just plain run-of-the-mill
stock villains. The plot, it turns out, really isn't as important to this
story as everything else. I don't think people were reading for the plot,
anyway. I could be wrong. Anyway, I hadn't thought about the Sundial
being a hallucination. It is odd, when the narrative voice is someone who
is crazy, isn't it, and you don't know what to trust about his appraisal
of the world...

haku baikou: I'm glad you like the symmetry. I was going to change it up
a bit for dramatic effect in this chapter, with a long flashback before
the first scene you see here. But it turned out to be confusing, so I cut
it. Glad you are enjoying the story!

tesuka-chan: I had to look up "anaphora" in the dictionary. Great word!
I use a lot of anaphora, apparently. Anyway, when I turn Sundial into a
musical, I promise, you will be the first to know. And don't we -all-
wish we were Hiko, eh heh heh heh. (evil grin).

AiteanE: Ah. Hachinisasareru isn't -that- hard to spell, is it? It's
just a sneeze of letters on the keyboard. Teehee. Anyway, I am not so
sure I want to think too hard about Hannya "getting it on". But, you
know, it may be sick, but he does have the most deliciously muscled arms.
(Angrybee is a Hannya-fan. Definitely.)

Kurai: I thought it seemed more like he was climbing out of insanity,
too. I mean, by this chapter, he isn't even hearing people say strange
things anymore.