Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Unexpected ❯ Chapter 6 ( Chapter 6 )

“Shinomori-san,” a voice in Aoshi's headset rang out.

“You do realize that you don't need to yell. That was the purpose of the headset.” Aoshi's frustration was barely evident in his voice.

“Sorry okashira. Misao has arrived.” Shikijo replied in a much more tolerable volume.

Aoshi looked at his watch. She was late again. He still did not understand how Misao managed to keep her job. If it had been any other waitress, Kamatari would have fired them after the third occurrence. It seemed that nearly everyone had a soft spot for Misao. Even Aoshi had to reluctantly admit, if only to himself, that there was something about the dynamic young woman that compelled people to love and protect her.

He sighed, still trying to figure out why he was working at the Blu Flayme. His conscience kicked him in the head, reminding him of a short energetic young woman whom he had put in danger with his thoughtless actions. After what he saw that night on Kaoru's couch, Aoshi was not going to let Misao get hurt again because of his negligence. For that very reason, Aoshi insisted that Kamatari install security cameras shortly after accepting the position three weeks prior. He brought Misao's image up on the screen. She was still wearing her sunglasses with the pale purple lenses to cover up her healing eye. Other than that, Misao looked as good as new. He virtually followed her until she entered the dressing room. Aoshi stood up, adjusted his earpiece and stretched his muscles. He prepared himself to do what he had done every night Misao worked. Aoshi made a point of walking the floor whenever Misao was in the building. The staff had been told that Yukishiro Enishi was no longer welcome, yet he took no chances.

Since the last time she was forced to seek solace at Kaoru's apartment, Misao found that she had a new, and more importantly safe, place to stay. At first she refused. Aoshi was already in the spare bedroom and she did not want to be an inconvenience to her best friend or her best friend's brother. Much to Misao's surprise, it had been Aoshi's idea that she move in. In fact, he insisted. He silently accepted the couch in exchange for Misao's safety. After that, things began to change. Upon Aoshi's suggestion, Misao finally filed a complaint against Enishi. It was not difficult to get a protective order issued once the judge saw Misao's injuries. Enishi was not allowed within five hundred feet of Misao. Neither was he to go to Tia Maria or the Blu Flayme. Even without the restrictions of the protective order, Enishi would not have been allowed in either establishment. Seta Soujiro, owner of Tia Maria, had something in common with Honjou Kamatari. He was not fond of Yukishiro Enishi. Enishi had been the cause of many, if not all, of Misao's excessive sick days. Though Misao never explicitly told him of Enishi's behavior, he had heard from customers who had witnessed it. It did not take much convincing for Soujiro to fully comply with the protective order. Slowly, Misao's life was beginning to make it way back to normal.

Sunglasses discarded, Misao sat in the dressing room staring at her reflection. The discoloration around her eye was fading, but still required a bit of makeup to conceal. Misao dabbed concealer on the bruise and covered it with the thick stage make-up that the dancers used. She rummaged through her bag to find her hairbrush and her curling iron. Since dating Enishi, Misao had mastered the art of re-directive hairstyling. In fact, she had become quite adept at disguising the origin of her bruises. As her hair became a mass of loose ringlets, Misao scanned the dressing room for the evening's attire - a black leather cat suit. An idea promptly took root. Misao was going to take things one step further tonight. She drew a large star over her bruised eye and colored it black and purple. Feeling the star was missing something, Misao dug through her make-up case for a package of body jewels. She outlined the border of the star with rhinestones. Getting a look at her face, she giggled. It had been a while since Misao could look at herself and laugh.

Every testosterone laced gaze followed Misao's lithe form as she walked the floor. Though nothing was exposed save a small vee of skin below her collarbone, Aoshi felt an overwhelming urge to cover Misao with a large beige trench coat.

“Shinomori-san, are you alright?”

Aoshi had been so focused on Misao that he had not noticed Kamatari approaching. He made mental a note never to become so distracted.

“Funny… now that I think about it, you were similarly occupied when I met you.”

“Explain.”

“Nothing.” Kamatari smiled at his head of security. He knew the reason Aoshi gave for taking the job. He wanted to keep Misao safe, to protect her from the fiend that was Enishi. Kamatari remembered Aoshi explaining that the kiss he gave her the first time they met was the catalyst for Enishi's latest rampage. For that reason, Aoshi felt honor-bound to protect Misao. Somehow, Kamatari couldn't help but think there was more to Aoshi's interest in Misao than a sense of duty.

* * * * *

Misao always felt great after her dance class. Something about pushing her body beyond its limits brought out the best in her. After zipping up her jacket, Misao waved to Komagata Yumi, the owner of the studio. Misao still had a few hours before she was to report to the Blu Flayme for her shift. She planned on taking the long way home, just to enjoy the sights the city afforded.

“I'll see you Thursday Yumi-san.”

Misao turned and saw the one person she was not expecting.

“You're not supposed to be this close to me. I have a protective order that says so.”

“It's only against the law if you tell on me.”

Misao took a few steps back. Enishi was too close. She needed room to breathe, to think.

“Misao, please. I'm sorry. I know I went too far. It's just - I was scared.”

Misao's head jerked up. “What could you possibly be scared of?” Her time away from the troubled young man gave Misao time to rediscover her voice. Her determination to live her life as she saw fit strengthened her resolve. “I was the one living in constant fear, every step scrutinized.”

Enishi lowered his head. “I know and I'm sorry. I - I saw you kiss that guy and I lost it. I thought I was losing you. I don't think I could take it if I lost you too. You're all that I have left.” He reached for her, but Misao drew back her hand.

“Don't.” Misao again took a couple of steps back, not wanting to turn her back to Enishi.

“Misao!”

Both Enishi and Misao turned to find the origin of the voice. Standing behind Misao was her instructor. Yumi stood with an enigmatic smile on her face.

“I'm glad I was able to catch you before you left.” She cut her eyes to Enishi. “I hope I wasn't interrupting anything.”

Misao quickly found her way to Yumi's side. “Not at all. He was just leaving. Weren't you?”

Enishi politely bowed to Yumi and walked down the street mumbling suspiciously to himself.

“Misao-chan, who was that?” Yumi asked.

Misao took in a deep breath and exhaled. “That would be Enishi.”

Yumi gasped. She heard about the young man before Misao started attending classes, but she never thought that she would actually see him.

“Misao, how did he know he'd find you here -- now?”

Misao's eyes widened as the implications of Yumi's question hit her. She had signed up for the classes after she left him. Enishi had taken to following her again and she didn't recognize it. Misao's stomach began to turn as she realized that she was no closer to freedom than a convict on death row. Once again Enishi managed to tarnish something that she cherished. Misao wondered what it would take to truly be rid of Enishi. Was that even possible? No matter what progress she made, Enishi found a way to exert control. Her body began trembling violently, compensating for the tears that Misao refused to shed. Wordlessly, Yumi ushered Misao back into the studio. After sitting the distressed young woman in an empty chair, Yumi went into her office. Frantically, she sought her address book. Finding it under an invitation to a holiday party, Yumi flipped through its pages. She picked up the telephone receiver and dialed out.

“Enishi showed up here….He just left…..She's fine, but you need to get here quick.”

* * * * *

Horns blared and drivers yelled various obscenities as he sped down the street. It did not matter that he had broken nearly every traffic law. He needed to get to Misao. His head began hurting as he thought of how close Enishi had been to her. Ever since he found out just how abominable Enishi was, he vowed to keep Misao safe from him. It had taken a while, but she was finally opening up again. A genuine light was returning to her eyes. He would protect that light, no matter the cost.

As he parked the car, he reined in his emotions. He needed for Misao to see him calm. If she were going to learn to trust him, he would need to prove that he was strong - the strongest. Before exiting the vehicle, he anxiously ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. Yumi said that Enishi left, but that did not mean that he was gone. He walked up to the dance studio's door, all the while surveying his surroundings. There did not appear to be any sign of Enishi. Ever on his guard, Misao's dark haired knight entered the building.

“Misao -“

“Soujiro, what are you doing here?” Misao asked.

“Yumi called and told me what happened. Are you alright?” Soujiro cautiously approached Misao.

Misao nodded. “I'm fine, just a little shaken. I'll be alright though.”

“Why don't you let me bring you home? Are you still staying with Kaoru?”

Misao nodded once again. She stood silent as Soujiro asked Yumi which duffle bag belonged to her. Yumi pointed to a navy duffle bag sitting against the wall. Soujiro threw it over his shoulder and walked Misao to his car.

As Soujiro drove down the crowded streets, Misao stared out of the window. Watching as the cityscape passed her by, she could not help but wonder about the state of her life. The ride was silent except for the occasional sigh of a forlorn young woman.

“We're here Misao.” Soujiro opened the passenger door. Misao forced herself to focus on the apartment building in front of her. Somehow she had to make it to her apartment without breaking down. Soujiro walked Misao to the door of the apartment she shared with Kaoru.

“Call me if you need anything.” Soujiro gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks. I'll do that.”

Misao dug her keys out of the duffle bag, fumbling as she attempted to unlock the heavy wooden door. Mid-fumble, the door swung open. Aoshi, somewhat bewildered by Soujiro's presence, stood in the doorway. He cut a sharp look toward the young man before focusing his attentions on Misao.

“Is everything alright?”

Misao's breath hitched in her throat as she took in the sight before her. Aoshi, barefoot in a black ribbed tank top and loose fitting black pants, stood holding his kodachi. His onyx hair was damp from sweat and he had a warrior aura about him. It was obvious that he had just returned from a practice session with Kenshin. Nothing lit a fire in Aoshi as going blow-for-blow against Kenshin.

“Just fine. Soujiro was nice enough to give me a ride home so that I wouldn't be late for work.” The forced smile adorning her face concerned Aoshi. He may not have known Misao as long as Kaoru did, but he did know her well enough to know when her smile was genuine.

“Okay.” Aoshi stepped aside to let Misao in. He watched as she bounced to her bedroom, leaving the two dark haired men behind.

“So are you going to tell me what's really going on?” Aoshi asked, attentions firmly focused on the young man before him.

“Apparently Enishi showed up at the dance studio as Misao was leaving. Yumi, the owner, interrupted whatever he was trying to do to her. After that, Yumi called me to come get Misao. She was pretty shaken up, though she'll never admit to it.”

Aoshi's eyes flashed to a dangerous shade of blue and Soujiro did not miss how the stoic man reflexively clenched his swords. There was something about Aoshi's eyes that unnerved Soujiro. There was an intensity present even in casual conversation that would send weaker men running. He wondered about the nature of Aoshi's relationship with Misao. Soujiro knew that he was Kaoru's older brother, but aside from that Aoshi was a mystery.

“I see.” The two words uttered in Aoshi's deep timbre reverberated through the hall. “Thank you for getting her home safely.”

“No problem. I would do anything for Misao.” Soujiro turned and walked away, pondering his prospects and his competition.

Aoshi watched Soujiro until he had made it to the end of the hall and down the stairs. He reentered the apartment and locked the door. It was obvious that Soujiro held Misao in high regard. He seemed like a nice enough young man. Soujiro probably was interested in dating Misao. Something about that last thought bothered Aoshi. Misao was nowhere near ready to get into another serious relationship. She needed time to heal, to get comfortable in her skin again. Aoshi had no intention of letting this young man pressure Misao. Noticing the tight grip he still had on his kodachi, he sheathed them and placed them on the sword rack he bought.

“Misao,” Aoshi called from the living room, “Come here.”

Misao poked her head from behind her bedroom door. She did not miss the authoritative tone his voice had taken. “Just a minute. I'm changing.”

Aoshi sat on the couch and waited. There was not much else he could do. Five minutes later Misao emerged wearing a teal racer-back tank top and gray sweat shorts. She plopped onto the couch next to Aoshi.

“You bellowed Aoshi-sama?”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that? I'm not that much older than you.”

“I know Aoshi-sama. I just like the way you shudder, involuntarily of course, every time I call you that.” Misao flashed a mischievous smile and reached for the remote control. Aoshi snatched it from her reach and simply shook his head.

“What happened today, Misao?” Aoshi's voice softened as he looked at Misao's slender frame.

“Nothing.” Misao stared at the blank television screen, silently willing Aoshi into oblivion.

“Why would you lie to me Misao?” Aoshi pointed the remote control at the television and promptly turned to a cable news station.

“I'm not lying Aoshi-sama. There's nothing to tell.” Misao feigned interest in the news report about the fear of a bird flu epidemic.

“Misao—,“ Aoshi grabbed her by the shoulders and made her look directly at him. Looking into Misao's eyes, Aoshi could see the fear. Her body had tensed, as if bracing herself for a blow. Aoshi quickly released her, realizing his error. “I'm sorry. I just don't understand. I need you to tell me what happened at the studio.”

“I told you nothing happened. Soujiro offered me a ride and I took it. You wouldn't want me to be late for work now would you?”

Aoshi's soft chuckle startled Misao. “Misao, you and I both know that you don't care about being late to work. Besides, I think Kamatari would have a heart attack if you were actually on time.”

Aoshi held the remote control out to Misao. “I'll make you a deal. You tell me what really happened today and I'll relinquish my rights to the remote.”

Misao thought the offer over in her head. She knew that Soujiro must have told Aoshi what happened. Part of her wanted to pummel the smiling fool, but the more rational part of her was grateful that he had done so. It made it easier to talk about.

“I had just left dance class. One second I'm waving good-bye to Yumi and the next I'm face to face with Enishi.”

Aoshi resisted the urge to ask questions, opting to let Misao speak at her own pace.

“He apologized and asked me to take him back.” Misao sighed as she thought about Enishi. It was at times like these that she could see the fragility of his spirit. It was at times like these that she remembered why she fell in love with him.

“Are you sure you're okay Misao?”

Misao nodded, and quietly admitted to Aoshi that for a brief moment she wanted to throw herself into Enishi's arms and start over. Misao saw Aoshi's body go rigid as he realized what she just said. She smiled weakly as she readied herself for a verbal thrashing. When no such outburst came, she continued.

“I met him shortly after his sister died. He was wounded, broken. I never thought that he'd be capable of doing the things that he has done. I wanted to help him. I thought I could save him. I did not think things would end up like this.”

“It's hard to help someone who believes they are doing the right thing,” Aoshi responded.

Misao exhaled deeply, allowing her body to fall back onto the couch. Aoshi, noticing how precariously low Kaoru's spider lamp hung, threw himself behind Misao to prevent her from hitting her head. Misao felt her body hit something much harder than the couch. She looked to her side to see Aoshi looking up at her. At that instant, time stopped. Misao had never noticed how clear and intensely blue his eyes were. The shields that he normally kept up were not there. It was just him. Then, just as fast as the moment came, it was gone. Aoshi quickly righted himself, telling Misao that she narrowly escaped death by lamp. He then handed her the remote control. After all, they had a deal. Misao shook her head. She no longer wanted the remote. All she wanted was room to breathe. Misao could feel him all around her and it took all of her energy just to keep a neutral face. It was the same feeling she had when they kissed at the Blu Flayme.

She stood up and smoothed the fabric of her shorts. Smiling weakly, Misao excused herself claiming that time was running short and she needed to get her things together for her shift at the Blu Flayme. Aoshi eyed her curiously, but said nothing. He knew that Misao would tell him eventually, if that was what she desired. He turned his attentions back to the television, quickly realizing that Misao's excuse was more than an excuse. He too needed to get ready for work.

* * * * *

“Who in the hell does she think she is?!”

The sound of glass crashing to the floor hardly soothed his ire. Misao had never been able to stay away for this long. Something, or more likely someone, had to be stopping her. However, he could not pinpoint the offending party. Enishi racked his brain trying to come up with the right person. He huffed and decided to let his overpriced dossiers do the thinking for him. There was that awkwardly tall guy. Enishi flipped the photograph over to see a name written in a nearly illegible script - Shinomori Aoshi. Apparently, he and Misao spent a lot of time together since they both worked at the Blu Flayme. Enishi had watched him escort Misao home on multiple occasions. Enishi knew from the information that he gathered that Aoshi was quite skilled in Kodachi Nitou Ryu, a style that used a short sword, and in a martial art known as kempo. This Aoshi kept in shape by sparring with a short red-head named Himura Kenshin. Enishi flipped to the next photograph to see a smiling Kenshin rubbing his head. Kenshin was the only student of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, taught by the ever arrogant Hiko Seijuro. Enishi gritted his teeth, tossing Kenshin's photo across the table. Who would have thought that two men in this day and age would be so well versed in such difficult styles of kenjutsu? The next photograph in the sequence was no better than the first two. It was one of that smiling jerk from the coffee house, Seta Soujiro. Apparently Soujiro was another man with an unnatural ability to handle a sword - and he was fast. If the reports were to be believed, he was even faster than Himura Kenshin. He was known as Tenken no Soujiro and his Sukuchi was unrivaled. As owner of Tia Maria, Soujiro also had a lot of access to Misao.

Along with the pictures were assorted facts about the men's lives. Enishi knew that Kenshin was not only romantically involved with Kamiya Kaoru, but was an aspiring sculptor as well. Despite his quiet demeanor, Kenshin held favor with many influential politicians. It seemed that Kenshin had made a name for himself as an astute advisor. That was how he could afford to lounge about and get his artistic career off the ground. Most believed it was his strict training under Hiko Seijuro that gave the man a remarkable insight into human character. It was a cunning man indeed that managed to deceive Himura Kenshin.

Soujiro was the brother-in-law of Shishio Makoto, the head of the prestigious Culture Preservation Society. Shishio was the man who handed Soujiro his first sword. It was he who recognized the raw skill and determination of the young man. After teaching all he could about the art of swordsmanship, Shishio persuaded Soujiro to become an active member of the Culture Preservation Society. Shishio reasoned that without men of their caliber to remind Japan of her greatness, it would soon fade away. Under the auspices of the Culture Preservation Society, Soujiro had opened a number of businesses whose purpose was to maintain the ideals and values inherent to Japanese society. Soujiro at one time partnered with Hiko Seijuro on the proper way to make and serve sake. Yumi's dance studio also functioned as a finishing school for the daughters of the elite. Even Tia Maria held a higher purpose. Every Sunday night, classes were held on how to properly perform the tea ceremony.

How had Misao managed to surround herself with such people? She was a nobody, a drop out who thought she had what it took to make it as an actress. How had such a common creature gained the attention of so many extraordinary people?

Enishi placed the folder with containing the photos back on the table. He leaned forward to reach the wallet in his back pocket. He unfolded it to reveal a photograph of Misao asleep in his bed. Though it was not an old photo, it was quite worn. Enishi spent most of the last few weeks fixated on it. It was as if he believed that with enough focus on the photograph, he could will Misao back into his life.

Behind the picture of Misao was a picture of his sister Tomoe. She was standing in front of a sakura tree, laughing as the petals fell around her. Enishi sighed as he remembered those times. His family was still intact. It was before Tomoe left. His father had not yet become a bitter sadistic tyrant. His mother had not yet succumbed to the pressure and taken her life. Enishi sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. Those were the days when his hair was still black.

Enishi's fractured attention span lead him back to the dossiers. Why hadn't Tomoe been able to find people like Aoshi, Kenshin and Soujiro when she came to Tokyo? How had she fallen prey to Takeda Kanryuu? Tomoe was every bit as good as Misao. In fact, she was better. Why did she die alone? Where were her loyal friends? Why didn't anyone see that she was drowning in her addictions? Enishi wondered whether his late sister's shy demeanor and cool aloofness kept people from seeing how wonderful and how fragile she was.

As his thoughts jumped back and forth between Misao and Tomoe, Enishi felt an oddly familiar urge course through his veins. He desired Misao's presence. He wanted to know what it was about her that drew people in. He so desperately needed to know how Misao managed to escape Tomoe's fate.