Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ A Promise Fulfilled ❯ complete fic ( Chapter 1 )

Rurouni Kenshin, has got to be the coolest anime ever and it's creator Nobuhiro Watsuki is a genius on par with Buffy the Vampire Slayer's Joss Weadon. Both are absolute masters when it comes to creating characters to die for--- be it the nobel yet flawed heros and heroines or the villians you love to hate....Being compared to either one in terms of a story would certainly be a major compliment for me....

Watsuki's Aoshi Shinomori, the brooding, oh-so-sexy ninja is a tortured hero any romance writer would love to tackle--So I did ;-)

A Promise Fullfilled

by

Barbara Sheridan

Misao Makimachi sat on the roof of the Aoiya, her attention fixed on the progress of the carriage carrying the Oniwabanshu to join Lord Aoshi for a special dinner.

They'd all been invited yesterday by a messenger bearing hand written invitations from Aoshi himself. They'd all been invited.

All but Misao.

The carriage disappeared from view and though Misao fought to stop it, Aoshi's cruel words echoed through her mind as loudly as they had more than six months ago when he'd said them.

I never want to see your face again.

Misao clamped her eyes shut to contain the tears that tried to erupt. Biting her lower lip until the worst of the pain began to fade, she quickly wiped her eyes then looked up at the bright moon hanging overhead. Her gaze slid towards the horizon in the direction of Tokyo. "You lied, Himura," she whispered to the darkness. "You said you'd bring Aoshi back to us, but you didn't. You didn't bring back my Aoshi. You brought back a stranger..."

***

Misao's adoptive grandfather, Okina, didn't have the heart to wake her. The poor child hadn't slept at all last night and she looked so peaceful just now. It would be best to go down and dismiss the manservant who'd brought them back home. Aoshi could speak to Misao another time when she was rested.

***

Aoshi Shinomori went to the door when he heard the clip-clop of horse's hooves outside. His manservant alighted from the hired carriage and unhitched the horses. "Okina-san said that Miss Misao was unable to come, Sir."

Aoshi nodded but said nothing before re-entering the fine house he'd recently built. The years spent working for the crime lord Kanryu had been ill spent but at least it had afforded him the money to rebuild the Aoiya from the Juppon Gatana's attack and to construct this place where he hoped to find some measure of peace for all the wrong decisions he'd made. The decisions that had cost the lives and trust of those he held closest.

He went to the alcove near the back of the house where he'd built a small shrine to his fallen comrades Shikijou, Beshimi, Hyottoko and Hannya.

Aoshi bowed before the plaques bearing the names and prayed as he so often did. I was such a fool and yet you four followed my orders without question. You gave your lives to protect me from Kanryuu's vengeance and how did I repay your sacrifice? In the worst way possible....

You need not apologize Aoshi-sama, Hannya's voice said in the far reaches of Aoshi's mind. You were a worthy Okashira, we never doubted that. All our acts were with that in mind and done of our own free will, you need not apologize to us. But Misao-sama is another matter. Remember what Himura Battousai said...

She needs your guidance. She needs you to dry her tears...

"But she wouldn't come," Aoshi whispered. "She has no desire to speak to me now or ever."

But can you be certain of that Aoshi-sama? Hannya's ghostly voice asked. Did you hear that from her own lips?

"No, but Okina did," Aoshi whispered. "He has no reason to lie."

***

Okina turned at the slight sound of footsteps. "Misao. Why are you up at this hour?"

She shrugged and sat beside him on the step leading from a small side porch of the Aoiya. "I couldn't sleep." She breathed a quiet sigh. "How did it go? The meeting with Aoshi?"

"It was pleasant. The house he's built is quite elegant but unassuming like the man himself."

"I wish I could have seen it." Misao said, casting a sideways glance which Okina sharply avoided." With another sigh and a shake of her head, Misao rose and paced at the foot of the three stairs leading back to the porch. "How is he these days?"

"He seems to be finding peace within himself, not entirely, but he's much different than when we last saw him. That coldness has left his eyes, though he's as reserved with his feelings as he always was."

Misao nodded, trying not to feel the tug of her heart as she struggled to remember the last time she'd been close to him. It felt like a lifetime ago when he'd stood close enough for her to feel his quiet strength and breathe in the masculine scent of him that made her warm all over.

Stop being an idiot, Misao, she told herself as she stepped into the dark recesses of the garden at the rear of the Aoiya.. You were never anything to him but a surrogate sister. He left here when you were a little girl and never looked back once. He didn't even leave in front of you he left in the night so he wouldn't have to be bothered by you. Why should it be different now?

She sunk down to sit upon a large rock and plucked a few blades of grass, shredding them methodically with the edge of her fingernail as she ordered herself to end this foolish infatuation once and for all. Aoshi was ten years her senior and if he ever wanted a woman by his side it wouldn't be her. It would probably be someone older and much prettier like Omasu or Okon. Yes, he'd definitely go for someone like the tall Okon, with her perfect face and her ample curves.

Misao let the grass fall then sat with her elbows on her knees, her head resting on her hands and she wondered if Okina-san might lend her enough money to get away from here and try to start a new life for herself. She could go to Tokyo, at last she had friends there. Surely Karou would let her stay at the Kamiya Dojo until she found a position of some sort...

***

"There's no need to skulk about in the shadows, Aoshi," Okina joked softly. "You are welcome at the Aoiya's front door--even if it is rather late for a social call."

The corner's of Aoshi's mouth twitched as if he was almost amused. "I couldn't sleep, I started walking and ended up here."

"There seems to be a lot of that going around tonight," Okina quipped watching Aoshi's gaze drift back towards Misao a few hundred meters away. She rose and walked towards the little pond where a turtle floated lazily in a shaft of moonlight.

"She's become quite the pretty young lady hasn't she?" Aoshi said after a time, his eyes sweeping over Misao again and again. Her hair was out of its customary braid and hung in silky waves down her back. It pleased him to see that she was wearing the red kimono Hannya. insisted that he send her for her sixteenth birthday.

"She's grownup quite a lot in this past year, especially since taking it upon herself to act as Okashira in your stead."

"It is her birthright after all, isn't it?" Aoshi said coolly.

"Is that why you left her out tonight? Are you jealous?"

"Not at all," Aoshi said, looking Oniwaban elder straight in the eye. "I wasn't leaving her out. I wanted to apologize to you all for stepping off the path and disgracing what the Oniwabanshu stand for. I wanted to apologize to Misao privately since my actions hurt her worst of all." He looked at Misao again, marveling in how perfectly beautiful she was before turning away, casting a final glance at Okina.

"Her refusal to see me when you returned told me what I needed to know. Obviously she has no use for me and I can't very well blame her."

Okina grabbed Aoshi's arm before he could disappear into the night. "She didn't refuse to see you. She was asleep. She was out of sorts yesterday and I didn't want to wake her. Forgive me."

***

Misao managed a wan smile when the old turtle came near the edge of the pond after she knelt down to toy with a lily floating near the side. She tapped the turtle's shell in greeting then pulled back her kimono sleeve and seized a tiny goldfish by the tail. Eager for the treat, the turtle opened its mouth like a pet dog might do.

"Your reflexes have certainly gotten sharper than I remember. I imagine you're formidable with your kunai."

I must be dreaming, Misao thought, afraid to look over her shoulder. She forced herself to glance back. It wasn't a dream. Aoshi was really here and.....he was holding out his hand to help her to her feet. She slid her hand into his, his large fingers closing around hers like a comforting mantle. She could feel the heat of his skin, the power of his body in the firmness of his grip. And she was very conscious of the fact that he kept her hand in his after she was standing.

"Okina said you've been out of sorts lately," he said his thumb rubbing across the back of her hand.

"You know Gramps, always worrying over nothing."

"Who can blame him? He cares about you deeply."

If only you cared. Why can't you care for me Aoshi? Misao's heart screamed. She bit her tongue to contain the traitorous words from spilling out. "Gramps said that you finished your house. He said it was impressive."

Aoshi shrugged his broad shoulders. "It's adequate. A little large for me alone, but..."

Time stopped and those last words echoed in Misao's mind. She inhaled a long slow breath. She wouldn't think about it. She didn't want to know, certain that her worst fear would be realized, that he had finally decided to settle down, and probably with Okon...She realized that Aoshi had spoken while her thoughts strayed. "What?"

"The kimono. I asked if you like it, if you wear it often. "

Misao smiled. "I wear it whenever I'm not wearing my gi.'

"Then perhaps I'll buy you another. Would you like that? Maybe blue. Silk this time?"

Misao's heart leapt. "I'd like that very much."

Aoshi nodded but made no reply. He simply peered down at Misao and she felt herself falling into the sparkling depths of his blue eyes. This was hopeless. Loving this man ten years her senior who thought of her as a child to be indulged with pretty dresses. She felt a tear slide from her eye and tried to pull away.

Aoshi held her hand firmly, wiped the tear away with the thumb of his free hand.. "Do you despise me that much?" he asked. "It's to be expected, I suppose. I betrayed the trust of the Oniwabanshu, my closest friends. I dishonored them and myself by bloodying my hands in the name of vengeance not realizing it was all to cover up my own guilt and responsibility for their deaths."

He sighed and let go of Misao's hand. "I have no right apologizing, I see that now. Okina and the others indulged my self-pity tonight. I've disgraced myself further instead of setting things right." He turned his back.

Misao clutched at his jacket. "Don't go. Don't leave Kyoto again. I couldn't bear it."

Aoshi turned back to face her. "I have no place here any more. My very presence dishonors the memories of Shikijou, Beshimi, Hyottoko and Hannya. They died because of my arrogance."

"They were soldiers. They died protecting their Okashira as they vowed to do when they joined the Oniwabanshu."

"They died because of my arrogance. It was I who aligned us with that bastard Kanryuu. I dishonored the very meaning of the Oniwabanshu by allowing my warriors to become hardly more than glorified attack dogs."

"But you can't change any of that. It happened, it's over. Hannya and the others are dead. Running away from Kyoto won't change a thing. You are the true Okashira. The Oniwabanshu needs you, Aoshi." She paused, refusing to allow her heart to speak. I need you, Aoshi

Her eyes welled with tears again and Misao tried to blink them away. Would she never cease to act like such a little girl?

"But what of Okina?" Aoshi asked gently, his eyes becoming dull. "I almost killed him and why? Because he wouldn't tell me where the Battousai was. I can barely look the man in the eye, and those days when I see the wounds still aching him...." Aoshi's voice broke and drifted off. He turned away again, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Misao?" he asked after a long foreboding silence.

"Yes?"

Aoshi turned back to face her, stepped forward, reached out to take Misao's hands in his. "I have a question and you must promise to tell me the absolute truth, no matter how harsh it is. Do you promise?"

"Yes," she replied, a sick tightness forming in the pit of her stomach.

"Is a man with so much blood staining his soul worthy of being loved? Could anyone love such a man?"

"Anyone can find love, Aoshi, if they only open their eyes and hearts. Look at Himura, when he was the Hitokiri Battousai and now. Even men like Shishio and Saito Hajime had women to love them."

"Perhaps," he said after a time. "Perhaps."

He stared down at her and Misao had the strong impression that he wanted to kiss her. She leaned towards him only to feel like a fool when he stepped back then disappeared into the night as silently as he'd come.

***

Okon sighed softly when she heard the unmistakable footsteps of Misao hurry past in the narrow hall. She'd seen Aoshi slip around to the garden earlier and she thought that at last he was going to tell the girl how he felt about her. Obviously that didn't happen. How could a brother of hers be such a complete fool? Of course he was only her half brother but still, one would think that any son conceived by two determined and unconventional people like her mother and his father would have some bit of common sense in that thick skull.

Obviously her baby brother needed a good swift kick. And soon.

***

Misao was still in bed when Omasu knocked on her door early in the afternoon. "Okina is worried about you. You're always downstairs early when we have guests arriving."

Misao glared at the older woman. "Okina can greet his own damn guests for a change and he can get a new servant as well. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of this stupid place and everyone in it!"

Omasu simply stared. She started to speak but apparently thought better of it and left quickly. Which was just fine with Misao who flopped back down to the mat on the floor. She curled on her side silently cursing Okina and the others and especially Aoshi. She knew now why he'd been so generous with rebuilding the Aoiya and encouraging Okina to make it a grand stopping place for tourists and visitors to Kyoto.

He'd done it to keep her out of the way because he knew damned well that gramps would talk her into being his little helper and coddling the paying guests while he sat in his room counting up the profits which he'd probably share with Aoshi who would probably spend it al on those women who watched his every move each and every time he walked through town.

She was surprised they didn't follow him to the temple everyday and wait like a pack of salivating she-dogs in heat.

Just the way you do, you mean?

Misao cringed as the harsh words echoed in her head and stabbed her in the pit of the stomach.

The anger she'd forced into being couldn't hold back the inner pain any longer and Misao dissolved into tears.

Love wasn't supposed to be this way, was it? Was it supposed to twist you in knots and make you forget which way was up? Was it supposed to make you blind to everything but the one who captured your soul?

Wasn't love supposed to be beautiful and make you happy, make the world a bright shining place to live where nothing mattered except knowing that the one you cared for would always be there to support you through good and bad?

Misao sat up, her arms hugging her knees. She didn't bother to wipe the tears from her cheeks, all she did was stare out the window and wonder why.

Why did she feel the way she did about Aoshi? Why did she love him so much, the way a woman loves a man. Shouldn't he be like a brother or father to her? Why had she never felt that connection? Why had she always known that her feelings for him were different that the feelings she had for Gramps and the others. They were her family and she loved them as that. But Aoshi was--different, special in a special way.

"I can't take this anymore," she whispered to the tiny blue bird who settled on the tree limb outside her window. "I can't take his rejection, his coldness. I have to do something, but what?"

You could start by telling him exactly how you feel. You haven't done that or even tried since he came back, her heart said. Maybe if you told him it would make a difference in the way he acts towards you.

"But what if it doesn't make a difference?" Misao wondered aloud. "What if he laughs at me and turns me away?"

At least you'll be sure. At least you'll know exactly where you stand...

***

Okon crossed her arms in front of her and gave her half-brother a long visual scolding. "Well, aren't you going to say anything? Didn't you hear a word I've said?"

"I heard it all--both times," Aoshi said, walking away. He reached for the bottle of sake he kept for guests then pulled his hand back.

"Well, what are you going to do?"

Aoshi spun around. "I'm not going to do anything. I can't. Why don't you understand that?"

"Why don't you understand that this is insane?" Okon demanded as she strode across the room. "When I look at you and Misao I see two lonely, sad people who are perfect for each other and I can't understand why neither of them has the sense to open t heir mouths and speak their heart's desire."

"Misao doesn't love me. Not that way."

Throwing her hands up in despair, Okon stepped closer and took hold of Aoshi's shoulders. "Of course she does, baka. How can you not see when everyone else in the universe can?"

Aoshi said nothing. He tried to pull away but Okon wouldn't let him move.

"Listen to me. She's perfect for you. Absolutely perfect."

"She's just a child."

"She's not a child she's a young woman and yes, she's childlike at times but that is exactly what you need in your life." She paused as a look of surprise came into Aoshi's soulful eyes.

Okon smiled and continued. "Don't you see? It's just like Himura and his Kaoru. Both of you were forced to grow up and assumed violent manly responsibilities before your hearts were truly ready. Neither of you ever had the luxury of pure happiness in your youth. That's exactly why you need someone like Misao--someone who can delight in a simple sunrise and be enchanted by the carefree flight of a butterfly. Tell me you wouldn't like to share in such simple pleasures and I'll go."

Aoshi tried to do just that if only to get rid of her, but his heart wouldn't let him. It brought back the image of her in the garden last night, kneeling by the pond, plucking up the little goldfish and feeding it to her pet turtle. It had brought a smile to his lips and he'd wanted very much to be by her side at that moment.

He breathed a soft sigh, his tense shoulders slumping a little. "But--I'm--I'm afraid of hurting her. The things I've done, the man I was---"

"Was," Okon said, silencing him by pressing her finger to his lips. She held his face in her hands and smiled. "You're a fine honorable man and I know you treasure Misao. It's you she wants. It's you she needs in her life. And you need her in yours. Now." She smiled. and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "She's been in her room all day. Go to her, talk to her and take her into your life."

***

Pain sliced through Misao at the sight of Okon and Aoshi together. She stopped in her tracks and continued to stare at the window through the trees. This couldn't be happening. She wasn't seeing this. She was not seeing Aoshi take that woman in his arms and hug her to him like she was the most important thing in his life.

Tears clouded her vision and Misao forced herself to turn away. She ran as fast as she could not caring that low branches scraped her face and that exposed roots, tripped her and brought her to her knees.

She'd gotten her answer all right. She knew exactly where she stood in Aoshi Shinomori's heart.

***

Aoshi called for Okina when he entered Misao's room and saw her belongings scattered about as if the place had been ransacked.

Omasu came running as well. "Her favorite things are gone. And her satchel, it was in that empty chest by the window."

"That explains it, then," Okina said, fingering his beard. "I had a sack of coins hidden with my old uniform. I noticed the floorboards disturbed just now I was going to take them up and look when you called."

Aoshi hurried to Okina's room and ripped up the loose board with his bare hands. HE lifted out a small leather pouch with a single gold coin inside. "I can't believe that Misao would steal from you."

"She wouldn't. Not without a reason," the old man said. "She ran away."

"But why?" Omasu asked.

Okina looked at Aoshi, who lowered is gaze in shame. "Why indeed?"

***

Misao stared out the train window and watched numbly as the locomotive took her away from Kyoto. She'd sent Gramps a message apologizing for taking his money. She'd pay him back--with interest-- as soon as she got herself settled and found some type of job. She hadn't had any other choice. She had to get away. She had to make a life for herself as far from here as possible. She couldn't bear to see Aoshi and Okon together and she absolutely refused to watch silently as they had a lovely happy life that should be hers...

***

"At this hour it might be trouble," Kenshin Himura said to Kaoru as a loud knock sounded on the dojo door late at night. "Stay back here. I'll see who it is" he said his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Miss Misao?"

"Misao?" Karou echoed, rushing forward. Misao looked at her then back to Kenshin as tears pooled in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, the tears falling freely. "I meant to send a wire to you, but I forgot. I had to get away. I just had to get away from there."

Her knees buckled as the sobs overtook her and Kenshin grabbed her before she fell. He held her up and looked to Karou for help.

"It's all right, Misao," Karou said, placing her arms around Karou as Kenshin let loose his hold. "We're your friends. We're here to help you."

Kenshin took Misao's bag from outside and shut the dojo door then followed as Karou lead the crying girl to a spare room.

***

Misao's eyes were still puffy from the crying she'd done the previous night and she was reluctant to look up when Kenshin and Yahiko entered the room for breakfast. However, she did look up when a familiar voice boomed just outside.

"Mmmmm. Do I smell rice cakes?"

"Good morning, Sano," Kenshin said brightly. "Yahiko, tell Miss Karou we have a guest."

"I thought she knew Misao was here," Yahiko said with a smirk. He yelped when Sanosuke bopped him on the head.

"Do as you're told, little man."

Yahiko jumped to his feet. "Who are you calling little, rooster head?"

Sano looked down on the boy. "You, oh baby faced one."

Yahiko tried to kick him but Sano sidestepped quickly enough that Yahiko landed on his rear with a thud."

Sano roared with laughter, Kenshin tried to contain his own and Misao found herself smiling-really smiling for the first time in she didn't know how long.

Grumbling, Yahiko picked himself up and left the room.

"Well, well, well, and who have we here?" Sano said as he folded his long legs and sat beside Misao. "If it isn't the lovely Okashira of the Oniwaban...." His voice trailed off as tears brimmed din Misao's eyes.

Misao bit her lower lip to hold it in. Okashira meant Aoshi. And Aoshi meant pain. So much pain.

Sano's mouth gaped when Misao fled the room. "What did I say?"

Karou, who was nearly bowled over by Misao set the food platter in the center of the low table and shook her head. "Sano you idiot. Can't you see that the girl is in torment? Why did you have to upset her again?"

Sano looked to Kenshin. "Again? But I just got here--"

"It seems to be a female thing, Sanosuke. That it does."

Karou threw a rice cake at each of them and Yahiko as well when he came back into the room.

"Hey!" Yahiko yelled. "What'd ya do that for?"

"Men! You're all selfish fools!"

The three looked at one another and shrugged.

***

Late that afternoon Sano came back by the Kamiya Dojo to check on Misao. She was standing out on the path where the cherry blossoms bloomed in spring. "How are you feeling, pretty lady?' he asked softly.

Misao glanced at him then averted her eyes. "I'm all right. And I want to apologize for this morning. I don't want you to think that you said anything--" She broke off when Sanosuke tenderly lifted her chin with his fingertips so that she was looking into his dark eyes.

He let his hand fall away. "You don't owe me any explanations. I just came to see if you were all right. Can I do anything to help?"

Misao bit her lower lip and shook her head. "I'll be fine. I just need some time to think."

Sano nodded. "I know the feeling." He grinned and ran his hand through his spiky brown hair. "I don't know about you, but I can never think on an empty stomach. Do you want to come to the Akabeko with me? I'm meeting my friend, Katsu. He's buying."

Misao nervously twisted her hands. "I-I don't know. "

Taking hold of her hand Sano gave a gentle tug. "Come on. It beats Karou's cooking any day of the week."

"Maybe for a little while."

***

"Misao-dono, what pleasure to meet you at last. Sano's told me all about you-except how lovely you truly are," Katsu Tsukioka said with a smile and tone of voice that made Misao's stomach feel like a thousand fireflies skittered inside.

Misao felt her cheeks burn and she really didn't mind that he held her hand longer than necessary. "Sanosuke tells me that your write for a newspaper as well as being an artist."

"When he's not being a maniacal bomb maker," Sano muttered.

Misao grinned when Katsu whapped Sano in the back of the head.

"Ignore the baka," Katsu said placing his hand on Misao's elbow to guide her to the door of the Akabeko.

Misao did have a nice time during the meal and especially after when Sano left to meet Megumi and Katsu took her on a brief walking tour of Tokyo. He was everything she wished Aoshi could be--- warm, and friendly and funny....Sighing to herself, Misao closed her eyes a moment as they stood on a small footbridge. She had to stop thinking about Aoshi and what might have been. That was over. He'd found what--who--he wanted and that was that.

Misao broke off from her dispiriting train of thought at the sound of an accented voice.

"Ahhhh Tsukioka, old man. I've found you at last."

"Charles," Katsu said brightly clapping the man on the back. "I thought you weren't getting in until next week.."

"I was supposed to but I concluded my business with the gallery in London ahead of schedule and I couldn't wait to arrive and get that grand tour you promised me." The man paused and looked at Misao. He took her hand and kissed it politely. "Forgive me madame for being rude. He let go of her hand and bowed at the waist. "Charles Emerson-Wyncliff at your service."

"This is Misao Makimachi, Charles she's visiting from Kyoto."

"Actually I'm not visiting. I've come to stay. As soon as I find employment."

The Englishmen's green eyes glittered in the fading sunlight. "Employment? Would you be interested in working as an interpreter and guide? My agent was going to secure someone but I doubt they'd be as thoroughly charming as you."

Misao felt herself blush. "I'd be happy to interpret for you but I don't know Tokyo at all." The man's smile was so heartfelt and so warm that Misao felt as if she were being bathed in a ray of sunlight..

"Then we can explore it together..."

***

"Miss Misao has been happy these past weeks, that she has," Kenshin said while helping Karou carry in the food they'd brought from the marketplace.

"She's happy on the outside, but I wonder."

"Wonder what?"

Before Karou could answer, Yahiko came into the room carrying a large parcel. "Some guy delivered this while you were gone. It's for Misao. Should I take it to her at that painter's studio?"

***

Karou shook her head. "You might as well leave it until she comes home."

Though she covered her composure quickly Karou knew that Misao was far more upset than she'd let on after opening the package and finding the birthday gifts from the other Oniwaban members. Okon and Omasu sent pretty silver hair combs, Okina a pair of black lacquered geta with flowers carved on the platform side and the last, wrapped in painted rice paper, was from Aoshi. It was a beautiful blue silk kimono decorated with leaves and flowers embroidered in genuine silver thread.

Karou waited awhile then went to Misao's room where she found the girl studying a large framed picture. It was a painting. A painting of Misao herself.

"That's very pretty. When did you have it painted?"

"It was a gift from Charles-san. He sketched me when I wasn't looking and has been painting before I arrive in the morning."

"It's beautiful," Karou said, kneeling across from Misao. "And the kimono from Aoshi is the prettiest thing I've ever seen." Misao said nothing but Karou saw the flash of pain in her eyes. She knew the feeling all too well and touched Misao's hand. "Charles is a very nice man. Kenshin and I had a wonderful time when we joined you for dinner last week."

Misao smiled sadly. "He is very nice and I like being with him as well as working for him, but..."

"But he isn't Aoshi."

Misao bit her lower lip and blinked back the tears that wanted to come. "No and I can't expect him to be. And why would I want him to be like Aoshi who is so cold and uncaring."

Karou said nothing and soon Misao told what had finally driven her from Kyoto.

"It was obvious that they're in love. The way they looked at each other. Even a blind man could tell there are deep feelings between Aoshi and Okon."

Karou patted Misao's hand again. "Maybe you should give Charles-san a chance then or even Sano's friend Katsu. I've seen the way he looks at you. He's very interested.

Sighing, Misao got up and paced the room. "I guess I should let my foolish dreams go. I wasted half my life loving Aoshi Shinomori and for what? He's found someone he cares about and I should try to do the same. Shouldn't I?"

Karou simply nodded.

***

While Misao knew that giving up her dreams of Aoshi were the practical thing to do, her heart refused to let it happen and the next time she saw Megumi Takani she asked to speak privately to the older woman. Nervous and unsure of how to approach the subject Misao paced back and forth in the empty main room of the small house Charles Emerson-Wyncliff was renting on the outskirts of Tokyo.

Finally Misao decided to let the words tumble out. "Forgive me, Megumi-san, but how do you do it? How do you remain friends with Himura even though you love him and he cares for Karou? How do you keep the pain from eating you alive and making you cry every time you think of them together?"

Megumi blinked quickly several times and took a deep breath. "I do it because I must. I have no potion to change the feelings in Ken-san's heart and I wish I had something to make the pain in mine stop , but there isn't any such medicine so I tell myself that what matters is Ken-san's happiness even if can't find it with me."

Misao sank down dispiritedly to the cushion on the floor. "That's what I keep telling myself but it doesn't make it easier. Not about Himura, you understand."

Megumi patted Misao's hand. "I understand."

***

A few days later when Charles came back from his latest meeting with his agent Misao was still pondering Megumi's words and hoping she could put them into practice. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn't hear him enter the room and yelped when he grabbed her playfully around the waist.

"I have some smashing news, darling."

"What is it?"

"I'm having a showing in Kyoto next month, and the Emperor himself has expressed interest in seeing my work and commissioning me to do his portrait."

"That's wonderful. I know how much you've been hoping for this chance."

Charles picked her up and swung her around. "I'm ecstatic and I can't wait to meet your family."

"You--you want me to go to Kyoto with you?"

"Of course I do. You're my interpreter after all." Charles placed his hand son Misao's shoulders. "And besides you have to introduce me to your grandfather Okina because there's something important I must ask him."

"You need to ask Gramps something, but what?"

Charles slid his hands down to Misao's waist and pulled her close. "I want to ask him for your hand in marriage."

Misao was numb and could barely get the words to leave her lips. "Marriage? You want to marry me?"

"Of course I do. As soon as possible..." his words dissolved into nothingness as he pulled Misao in for a slow gentle kiss.

***

Your hand in marriage…as soon as possible…

The words ran through Misao's mind in an endless chorus and she wavered between fear, excitement, and sadness at the thought of marrying Charles. He was a fine man and she'd grown to care deeply for him in these past weeks, but marriage? What would Gramps say to that? More importantly what would Aoshi say? Would he even care or would he be glad that she'd be out of his life for good?

***

"Aoshi, Aoshi, did you hear me?" Okina called as the younger man strode away as if he hadn't heard a single thing in the past twenty minutes that Okina had been saying to him.

Yes, Aoshi Shinomori had heard. He'd heard it all too clearly and those simply spoken words of his former sensei were ringing in his ears and slicing through his soul like the sharpest kodachi he owned.

Misao was returning to Kyoto and not only that she was returning with a fiancé. An Englishman no less-- a painter who was being commissioned by the emperor himself.

So that's what she wanted was it? A rich man who could place her high up in society where she could be a pampered woman of leisure? It certainly wasn't something he'd expect of the tough little ninja girl who'd helped defeat one of the most fearsome members of the Juppon Gattana, but apparently Okina found it all perfectly acceptable. In fact, the old man was ecstatic and already planning the most lavish wedding celebration possible

***

Misao smiled to herself as she watched Charles dozing in the seat next to her on the train to Hokkaido where they were going prior to the art show in Kyoto. He was quite a handsome man with his sandy hair, bright green eyes and calm, soothing voice. He was intelligent and funny and made her feel so special and desirable when they were together.

He wasn't Aoshi but he didn't have to be.

Misao turned to gaze out the window and thought how much she'd changed since her conversation with Megumi such a short time ago. She still loved Aoshi with all her heart but she knew that she couldn't make him feel something that he didn't. And as painful as it was she had no way to change it so it was best to do as Megumi did and carry on with her life .

She turned away from the window when Charles brushed his fingers across her cheek.

"Ashtrue, Misao."

Trying not to laugh at the poor pronunciation Misao smiled and held his hand. "Aishiteru," she said slowly.

His smile faded slightly. "Was that simply a language lesson or did you mean it personally?"

"I meant it. I've fallen in love with you, Charles."

His smile was bright once more and he wrapped is arms around Misao. He looked out the window. "The snow makes everything so beautiful, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"I want to sketch you the instant we get to the inn. I'm envisioning you standing beneath a snow covered tree, the mountains rising up behind you, the sun streaming down making you like an angel, a beautiful snow angel."

Misao felt her cheeks burn. "You have to stop sketching me. No one in Kyoto wants to see only sketches and paintings of me. They want to see your real art."

"It is my real art. You're the perfect subject, absolutely perfect."

"But an angel?"

"A snow angel," Charles corrected. He paused. "Have you ever made angels in the snow? By lying in the snow I mean."

Misao gave him a skeptical look. "No."

Charles laughed. "You'll love it. It's so much bloody fun! I can't believe I haven't done it since I was a child."

Lying in the snow didn't seem much fun to Misao but she was willing to try. "On one condition, that you skate with me."

It was Charles who gave a skeptical look now. He took the small carpetbag from beneath the seat and removed the pair of skates Misao had brought. They resembled those wooden sandals she sometimes wore with blades attached to the bottoms and had bits of rope to tie them on. "But our feet will freeze. How can you possibly wear these and those funny little stockings in the winter?"

Misao laughed. "What's that saying of yours--when in Rome? Well, when in Hokkaido…"

****

Okina shared a sympathetic look with Aoshi's manservant Chen, when he passed the man on his way to speak with Aoshi. The servant's arms were full of body parts--cloth limbs from martial arts training dummies.

"Maybe I should turn the Aoiya into a dojo and hire Aoshi as sensei. Then again, I don't know how many people are anxious to acquire the skill of dismembering people with kenpo in these times."

Chen simply nodded in agreement and went on his way to repair the dummies as best he could.

Okina entered the spacious house and found Aoshi in the room he'd emptied shortly after Misao left Kyoto. Since that day Aoshi had all but abandoned his meditation and had been training rigorously to vent his frustration. As he watched his former student slice a dummy to shreds, this time with lightning quick strikes of his kodachi, Okina wondered if the younger man's anger was at Misao for leaving and letting another man into her life, or at himself for not going after her and opening his heart to her.

"I need to talk to you, Aoshi."

"I'm busy," he answered sharply, hauling another cloth dummy to the hook suspended from the ceiling. Before Okina could say anything Aoshi let out a battle cry and kicked the dummy square in the chest. The stout canvas split and sawdust spilled out in a rush, the dummy sagging lifelessly from the hook.

Before Aoshi could tear it down, Okina stepped between him and the drooping dummy. "This is important. I walked Omasu to the marketplace this morning and Kurasawa the peddler told me that an odd looking traveler calling himself Morimoto was on the road to Hokkaido asking about a tall man with Death in his eyes whose weapon of choice is the double kodachi."

Aoshi inhaled a slow measured breath, his eyes narrow and cold. "I know no one called Morimoto."

"Then you know him under another name."

"If he wants me, let him come. I fear no one."

Okina sighed. Aoshi had been returning to the man he'd mentored as a boy, the man he'd held in such high esteem following the defeat of Shishio and now he could very well be on the path to becoming a ruthless killer once more....Ah Misao, if only you'd opened your own heart before leaving...

****

The one called Morimoto smirked at the flash of recognition in the old farmer's eyes even though the man managed to mask it within seconds.

"I'm sorry. I know of no such man. I cannot help you." The farmer bowed quickly and tried stepping around Morimoto.

Morimoto seized him by the throat with a deceptively delicate looking hand. "His name is Shinomori and you know exactly who he is and where he is don't you?"

"N-n-n-o."

Still holding the farmer by the throat, Morimoto used his free hand to grab the man's right arm. He squeezed until a bone gave an audible crack. "Tell me. Now. Where is he? Where is his family? He had a picture once of a girl, his wife? Daughter? A pretty girl, big eyes, long braided hair." Obsession glittered like madness in Morimoto's dark eyes and twisted his unusually graceful features.

"She-she is his ward. Her grandfather was Okashira of the Oniwabanshu before Shinomori. When the old man died---"

"He was much mourned, as you shall undoubtedly be," Morimoto said, snapping the man's neck.

When Misao looked over her shoulder for the third time in just a few minutes as they exited the train depot in Hokkaido, Charles stopped walking to question her.

"Did you forget something, darling? I can hurry back and try to get it before they pull out again."

Misao shook her head. "It's not that it's...Nevermind. I just thought someone was watching us." And part of me hoped it was Aoshi, her heart added wistfully.

***

Morimoto tapped one finely manicured fingertip against his chin as he let the handsome young couple slip from view. It didn't matter if they got away now he would find them easily enough having heard the foreigner tell the baggage handler where to send their belongings.

Oh, but this was certainly his lucky day. The very Gods Themselves must be smiling down upon him to have brought her into his path of retribution. She was Shinomori's ward, there was no doubt about that. He'd pilfered the picture once when Shinomori was bathing. If only he'd known, if only he'd realized the bastard's true intentions when joining their organization.

A low growl rumbled deep in his chest and he forced himself to take a calming breath before making his way back to the ticketing booth. None of that mattered now. What mattered now was avenging the deaths of his followers, especially his favorite, Michiba.

The ticket seller pushed the ticket to Kyoto back to Morimoto. "No exchanges. No refunds."

"Give it to me. now," Morimoto said in a tone that was as thick as velvet and as deadly as a razor sharp katana.

The clerk did, then quickly pulled down the little green curtain behind his window instructing travelers to use another window across the way.

***

"Whatever is the matter with you, darling? You've been looking over your shoulder ever since we arrived," Charles said on their third day in Hokkaido. Misao had been sitting near a set of glass double doors in his room at the inn while he sketched her, but she'd shifted position so many times he'd had to start over twice.

"I'm sorry," she said getting up. "It's just. I don't know. I have this feeling..."

"Feeling nervous perhaps about marrying me?"

"A little, but it isn't that. It's.....It's that woman. The one who serves in the dining room. There's something not right about her. She keeps watching us and she reminds me of Kamatari."

"Kami-who?"

"Not Kami, Kamatari," Misao said sharply. She paused and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "I told you about Kamatari she--he was one of those who attacked the Aoiya."

"Charles laid his hands gently on Misao's shoulders." "But what does that have to do with you having this 'feeling' as you call it?"

"I don't know it's just--"

Misao was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. To her dismay it was the serving woman in question.

"You must have the wrong room, Madam. We didn't order anything to be brought up. If you'll excuse us," he said trying to close the door.

The serving woman growled her displeasure and slammed the door backwards, knocking Charles to the ground in the process.

Misao reached slid her fingers into her obi, fear gripping her when she realized she no longer carried her kunai daggers. Charles said she'd have no need of such things any longer that they would lead a quiet life with no danger, the beauty of the art world their only concern.

Misao's eyes were riveted to the serving woman-no- the angry man who approached her, kicking Charles when he scrambled to his feet and tried to go to her.

The man smirked and took a red pastel from the easel Charles had his supplies on. He slashed the sketch Misao's face and laughed. "Now it will be a true likeness."

****

Tokyo

"Kenshin, Sano, you guys better come here!" Yahiko yelled when he opened the door to the dojo and saw Sano's friend Katsu standing there looking like he was about to pass out.

Sano rushed forward, grabbed his friend by the shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Kenshin stepped up, his face lined with worry. Karou had bene gone to the market longer than usual. "Has something happened in town? Karou-dono---"

"This came into the newspaper office...Charles," Katsu muttered, taking a piece of paper from his pocket. "Misao..."

Sano held the telegraph message to Kenshin. "Charles Wyncliff was murdered in his hotel room. Miss Misao hasn't been located. They don't know if she's a victim or the attacker."

"Stupid police," Yahiko said, reading the message over Kenshin's shoulder. "Misao wouldn't hurt anyone especially not the guy she wanted to marry.

Kenshin handed the paper back to Katsu. "I wonder if Aoshi knows."

***

Kyoto

Green grass washed with red blood.

Birds' songs muffled by dying men's screams.

His ears rang with the clang of steel hitting steel, the clang turning to a dull thud as blade struck skin, sliced through bone.

The bodies of men in his path, under his feet.

Blood pooling around him, staining his clothing, drowning his soul.

Aoshi awoke with a start, cold sweat plastering his dark hair to his forehead. He sat up, senses alert to the presence of another in the darkened room.

"Aoshi. It's me. Okon."

She stepped into a silvery ray of moonlight and he saw that she'd been awakened as well for her long hair was hanging in loose disarray, her kimono was bunched about the shoulders the bow tied crookedly in front as if she'd thrown it on and rushed right over.

"What is it?" He asked getting out of the western style bed pulling on a haori over the loose fitting pants he slept in. "What's happened?"

"Someone came to the Aoiya with a package for you."

The tension in Aoshi's shoulder lessened. "A package has you this excitable? Surely it could wait till the morning."

"No," Okon said coming closer.

Aoshi could see the fear in her pretty eyes. It was not a sight he was used to. He tensed again, reached over to light the lantern on the high bedside table. "Tell me."

"Hiko was there with me. He was the one who caught the man lurking. He brought the package in. He said it smelled of blood."

"And?"

Okon closed her eyes as if to steady her frayed nerves. She held out a trembling hand to her half-brother. " I can't. You have to see."

The man who'd brought the package was still at the Aoiya cowering on the floor before the ninjas Shiro and Kuro. Blood trickled from his mouth, bruises were forming on his face and he clutched his swollen wrist to his chest.

Aoshi could see Okina in the adjoining room sitting on the floor, his shoulders slumped, Omasu at his side offering comfort. Aoshi held fast to the sickening dread that wanted to overtake him as he held fast to all his emotions. Seijuro Hiko came forward, the usual arrogant gleam in his eyes gone for once. "The man knows nothing, only that he was paid handsomely to bring this here and leave it where it would be found. " He held out the small parcel that had been untied.

Aoshi took it. Opening the oiled paper, his stomach knotted at the sight of a scrap of blue silk whose gleaming sliver embroidery was now stained with blood. The accompanying note said:

As you spilled the blood of mine in the Forest of Shosha so I will drink the blood of yours.

Soon.

Aoshi was conscious of the many eyes upon him awaiting his reaction and though his insides churned like an angry sea his only outward sign was a tightening of his jaw, a narrowing of his icy blue eyes. The fabric clutched in his hand, he turned and strode from the Aoiya, the others following him.

"Wait! Let us go with you!" Shiro called.

"Let me grab the shuriken!" Kuro added.

"Aoshi! Wait!" Okon yelled, running forward.

Hiko grabbed the back of her kimono and stepped into the path of the others.

"He needs to do this alone."

***

Misao was still too stunned to do anything other than follow the man called Morimoto who dragged her through the dense trees as dawn broke. She still couldn't believe that Charles was dead. It happened so quickly. She hadn't seen it coming. She thought the man would simply leave him unconscious, not slice his throat as he lay there. Why hadn't she done anything to stop it, to help him?

Her mind stopped racing when Morimoto shoved her to the ground once they'd reached a clearing. She glared up at him, her thin fingers instinctively closing around a rock.

Morimoto laughed, smashed her wrist to the ground with one large booted foot. He grabbed her braid and jerked her to her feet, dodging her attempted kicks and punches with ease. "So, you have some life left in you after all. Good. It's not much sport watching a weak one like the foreigner die without so much as a whimper."

Misao tried to gauge the time by the position of the sun in the sky. It must be late afternoon though it felt as though they'd been here for hours longer. Morimoto had tied her up before noon, binding her ankles together and securing her arms almost behind her around the base of a young tree. Her muscles ached from being restrained in the uncomfortable position and her eyes watered from having the sun in her face all day.

Her mouth was parched and she'd give most anything for a sip from the tin cup Morimoto had in his hands. The wind blew and Misao shivered. Morimoto took that moment to look up and he laughed.

"Cold, little one?" He asked rising to his feet.

Misao said nothing. The man approached, his hostile eyes narrowing, the expression within growing colder. He seized Misao's chin, digging his slender yet strong fingers into her flesh. "I asked you a question, wench. Are. You. Cold."

"A little," she muttered.

He let her go, his gaze sweeping up and down her body to the point that it made her stomach tighten in a sickening way.

"I don't usually take to women," he informed her pacing back and forth his left hand fingering the hilt of the katana tucked in his belt. He unsheathed the sword and used the tip to sever the fabric closure of the mantle she wore. "I've found women to be too fragile, too breakable for my tastes."

Replacing the sword he stepped forward, fingered Misao's long braid. "Oh, but you are a pretty thing, so pure looking, so small and delicate." He dropped his hands to her shoulders and squeezed She tensed. He laughed an obscene sort of laugh. "Quite a bit of strength in you though, so perhaps..." He trailed his hands roughly down her back, pushing her away from the tree and closer to him so that their bodies touched. He grabbed her braid, jerked her head back until it collided with the tree trunk then bent and licked her throat.

He kissed her neck then bit her, drawing blood, but she refused to cry out. Instead she clamped her eyes shut and focused on the one thing that could give her strength-the image of Aoshi Shinomori.

***

The blood boiled in Aoshi's veins like volcanic lava at the sight of that bastard touching Misao, but as always he held fast to his emotions and let his steely cold cunning guide him. He threw a rock to divert Morimoto's attention to the opposite direction while throwing a shuriken to slice through the rope binding Misao's wrists.

Good girl, Mi-chan, he thought when she kept her arms in place so as not to alert her captor.

She was dreaming she had to be. Surely her mind was playing tricks on her. When Morimoto looked over his shoulder she moved her wrists to the limit they'd been bound and found that she wasn't dreaming. Her bonds had been cut. Could it be? Was it really possible that he'd come to help her?

Morimoto turned back to her and she froze hoping he hadn't noticed anything.

"Shinomori should have gotten he message by now," he said walking towards the source of the earlier sound. He prowled the perimeter of the clearing like an animal on the hunt alert for any further movement. "The question is will he take the challenge?" He looked back to Misao a leering grin on his face. "Does he even care enough to bother I wonder? He must have known you were with that Englishman. Alone and for some time I wager. What kind of protector lets his ward dishonor herself and him in that way?"

Misao knew her expression betrayed her the instant Morimoto laughed.

"Have I offended you, little one?" Morimoto asked returning to face her. "Are you still as innocent as you look? Maybe you are. I doubt that Englishman had the balls to know what to do with you." He touched her cheek, slid his hand down to paw her breast through the rich silk of her ruined kimono. "I on the other hand--"

"Enough." Aoshi said showing himself from the far side of the clearing. "It's me you want. Me alone."

Morimoto laughed, unsheathing his sword. "But what better way to hurt you than to hurt her first?"

Aoshi stepped closer, inching to the side, making Morimoto unconsciously move with him.

Morimoto laughed again when Aoshi produced a dagger from his belt. "Feeling brave are we? Or are you just going to kill yourself and take my fun away?"

When he'd lured Morimoto far enough to the side Aoshi threw the dagger at Misao's feet.

Morimoto laughed again. "Trying to put her out of her mis..." The words died on his lips when Misao seized the dagger and cut the rope binding her ankles.

"Misao, run!" Aoshi ordered, charging his opponent, whipping out his kodachi.

Misao ducked behind the tree, took the shuriken and hurled it, her arms too weak to let the weapon hit their mark. Still, she grazed Morimoto's head which was enough to cause a misstep as he lunged for Aoshi.

They moved so fast she could hardly tell who was who as steel clanged against steel and each man's battle cry split the cold air. It was over in an instant that seemed an eternity and when it was done Aoshi was standing, his arm gashed, his lip cut and Morimoto lay dead in a spreading pool of blood just as Charles had done in the hotel room in Hokkaido. Her mind saw Charles. Dear, sweet Charles, who'd made her feel so special, so wanted.

She knew the horrors of men like Morimoto. She should have helped Charles, protected him...

The dagger fell from her hand and she trembled as Aoshi approached, slipping his long coat around her shoulders.

"It's over Mi-chan. You're safe now," he said in soothing tone that would have warmed her heart had it been said at any other time.

She trembled harder, barely conscious of Aoshi's strong arm around her, his free hand tenderly stroking the top of her head as the tears broke free. "Charles. Charles..."

Aoshi swallowed hard, closed his eyes a moment and took a slow calming breath only to tense again at the sound of a breaking twig. His reached for his kodachi. His eyes widened in surprise when Hajime Saito appeared.

Saito jerked is head to the right. "I'll take care of this mess. There's a carriage waiting a few kilometers through there. Take the girl home."

"Arigato," Aoshi said, leading Misao away. He stopped and turned back when Saito called his name.

"I took care of the situation in Hokkaido. Her friend was buried, his business agent collected his belongings, sent her things to the Aoiya."

Aoshi nodded, thanked him again then led Misao to the waiting carriage.

***

Misao refused to see or speak to anyone. She stayed in her room at the Aoiya, shutters drawn, barely eating or drinking anything. Doctors had been called. She refused to see them going so far as to hurl a handful of kunai daggers at the most persistent one. The Oniwabanshu were all at their wits end and fairly sick with worry. Almost as an afterthought Omasu wondered aloud if the doctor who had come to tend Kenshin Himura those months ago might not have better luck since she was a woman.

Certain that the Takani woman would refuse any pleas for help from him, Aoshi asked Okina to send the message in his own name.

Megumi arrived three days after the telegraph was sent and it took another three days before Misao would consent to see her.

"Physically she's fine-untouched," she said pointedly looking at Aoshi. "She does need to get more food and liquid soon and she's agreed to start with some vegetable broth then perhaps soba." She paused as Okon and Omasu said they would see to it and hurried to the kitchen.

"What concerns me is her mental state," Megumi continued. "The pain and guilt she harbors over her fiancé's death is incredible."

"But that's to be expected," Okina broke in." She will mourn her loss then recover in time."

Megumi shook her head. "Normally I would agree, but this is deeper, I'm afraid..." she paused to find the best way to describe the feeling she had. "Misao has an air of doom about her. It's as if she has a fatal disease and has resigned herself to face a certain end."

"But that's ridiculous," Okina said.

"She's isolated herself from the living world. If you could look in her eyes you'd see that she's emotionally dead compared to the girl I last saw in Tokyo. I believe the human instinct to survive has her taking in only enough food and water to exist and it's only a matter of time before the darkness within her conquers that."

"That's ridiculous," Okina snapped again. "Are you saying Misao is going to die of a broken heart?"

Megumi looked at the old man. "I'm saying that the sadness weighing down her spirit is too heavy a burden to bear alone for such a young woman." She turned to Aoshi "Misao needs something--someone to anchor her to this world until she can rebuild the strength to carry on."

***

Misao huddled deeper under her blankets when the knock sounded on the door. She heard Megumi rise from the chair she'd been occupying since coming back to the bedroom. The door scraped open then closed. Misao's stomach churned at the thought of eating. "Just leave it. I'll eat it in a little bit. You can go. You don't have to babysit me."

"If it's all the same to you I'll stay until you've finished your dinner."

Misao's breath caught in her throat. She bit her lower lip and forced herself to turn over. She wasn't dreaming. It really was Aoshi. She turned her back to him again and sought protection deep within the blankets surrounding her. "Please go away. I'm not hungry."

She heard him approach and set something down. A low table with covered bowls.

"Dr. Takani said you need to eat. Do you want me to help you sit up?"

"I'm not a baby," Misao muttered.

"Then stop pouting like one."

Misao sat up quickly, grabbing the table's edge to steady herself. She told herself it was her imagination and not concern she saw flash in Aoshi's icy eyes. Refusing to look at him she uncovered the bowls and forced back the bitter bile that threatened to rise in her throat. She closed her eyes a moment then picked up the porcelain spoon and sipped the vegetable broth. She took as much as she could stand, leaving the soba noodles untouched. She drank some of the cool water and pushed the table away. "I can't finish anymore."

"Fine," Aoshi said, standing, picking up the table. "I'll let you rest."

Misao called out to him just before he exited the room. He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes riveted onto hers. He looked so strong and all she wanted was for him to hold her and make the nightmare go away." Do it! Tell him! Her battered soul cried out.

"Thank you," she said quietly, laying back down, burrowing once more into her blankets.

"You're welcome. Goodnight."

The door closed with a soft scrape and Misao cried.

***

Megumi made arrangements to leave two days later. She took Aoshi aside before departing the Aoiya. "Misao's eating is a good sign, but I don't like that she won't get dressed or leave her room. If you keep trying, I think she'll respond to you."

Aoshi nodded. "I'll do what I can," he said offering her a formal bow. "Thank you for coming all the way to Kyoto."

***

As always, Misao ate mutely as Aoshi sat across the room in silent meditation. And as always, she stole frequent looks at him, her gaze sweeping the angular planes of his handsome face over and over, etching each line into her memory like one of Charles' paintings.

Charles. Such a fine man, a talented man and now he was dead and for what? Because she'd acted like a scared little girl and hadn't put up a fight?

Her appetite gone, Misao pushed aside the half eaten bowl of teriyaki. "I'm done. You can go now if you want."

Aoshi rose from the floor and came forward. She got up as well and went to stare out the window.

"You hardly touched anything this time."

"I'm not hungry," she said making certain she stared out the window. It was too painful to look at him, to be reminded of so many things that went wrong.

"I received a message today from Charles-san's business agent," he said quietly taking note of the way Misao's small body tensed. He knew exactly what she was feeling, he'd felt the very same way each time he thought of his fallen comrades and he couldn't allow her to suffer the same damaging torment he'd put himself through.

"Apparently he left you a goodly portion of his estate. You're a wealthy young woman."

She whipped her head around and though the flash in her eyes was one of revulsion, it was at least a tangible emotion that Aoshi took as a good sign.

"I don't want anything that was his. I won't have anything to do with it."

Aoshi took a step closer wanting more than anything to fold her in his arms and turn back time, to make things right even if it meant losing her to another man. He started to reach out but she turned away and he dropped his hand to is side, curbing the foolish impulse.

She was his responsibility, his ward. He had no right to want anything more. No right at all.

Aoshi simply studied Misao for a time; fighting the inner battle he'd been fighting for months since returning to Kyoto. "There was more to the message," he said at last. "The art gallery here wants to go ahead with Charles' exhibit as a tribute to him. They would be honored to have you attend the opening. Apparently the Emperor himself has expressed interest in being there."

The tears that glistened in Misao's eyes when she turned sliced him like dagger blades.

"He was so excited about this show. It was all he talked about...He worked so hard. His paintings were so beautiful..."

She turned back to the window, her small shoulders shaking as she fought to contain the onslaught of tears. "I can't go. I can't."

"You have to," Aoshi said firmly but gently. "You need to do this. You need to face the world and I know you don't want to dishonor Charles-san's memory by not going." She whipped around, catching him off guard with an angry glare.

"I'm supposed to go and be surrounded by his friends and have them stare at me and accuse me of letting him die while I lived?"

"No one would do such a thing, Mi-chan.'

"Won't they? Of course they will! It's my fault he died. I didn't help him! I could have saved him! I should have saved him! I am Oniwabanshu!"

"You are a girl who was facing a madman. You would have been killed yourself had you tried to fight."

"So! It would have been better than this!" She screamed punching Aoshi's chest. "Anything would be better than living in this hell!"

Aoshi stood firm as Misao's pain poured out in a hail of blows that he absorbed without a second thought.

When Misao's anger dissolved into tears and she clutched the front of his shirt with her small hands, Aoshi gave in to his instincts and folded her in a comforting embrace, his chin resting gently against the top of her head.

It took quite a few minutes after she stopped crying for Misao's distraught mind to realize that Aoshi had been holding her and that he continued to hold her. She wound her arms around his waist and took comfort in his quiet strength while her heart drank it all in.

They stayed that way for a long time until Aoshi pulled back enough to peer down into Misao's face. He cradled her face in his hands, rubbed away the traces of tears with the pads of his thumbs. "I would be honored to escort you to the art gallery."

Misao nodded, hating the feeling of emptiness that overcame her when Aoshi pulled completely away. "I'll go, but only for a little while."

"Fine," he said simply before touching her hand and leaving.

Misao heaved a weary sigh when the door closed behind him. He was being kind, nothing more. How dare she hope, especially now with Charles dead.

She lay down and burrowed into the pile of soft blankets to cry herself to sleep.

****

Late the following afternoon Charles' business agent came to Aoiya with a small parcel for Misao. Though she didn't want to, she forced herself to get dressed and go downstairs to see him.

"This arrived at my office in Tokyo," he said handing over the parcel. "It was sent from Hokkaido almost a fortnight ago but was delayed somehow. There was an outer wrapping with a letter from Charles instructing me to deliver this should anything happen to him."

Misao said nothing but simply stared at the package.

"Well, I'll let you open it privately. Good day Miss Makimachi. I do hope you'll be at the gallery."

Misao said nothing, she merely gave a slight nod as curiosity mingled with dread as she studied the brown paper covering the package from Charles. Finally she forced herself to open it. The parcel was doubly wrapped with a letter bearing her name affixed to the paper wrapped item inside. She sat on the floor and opened the letter. It was dated the day before Morimoto burst into their room.

My dear Misao,

I had a nanny when I was a boy who claimed to possess "the sight". She said that she could predict the future, though I never witnessed her do any such thing. I've been dreaming of her these past few nights and each time she tries to warn me that something awful is going to happen to me.

I don't know why I can't dismiss this as the foolish thing it must be, but I can't and I wanted to be certain that you received this gift, just in case.

You know that I treasure you Misao and want more than anything for you to be my wife. I know that you care for me, but there are times when you speak of your family at the Aoiya that you change, you acquire a certain telling light in your eyes when you speak of your guardian and I would be a liar if I said I wasn't jealous.

I rather wish I could see your expression when you open this but then again, it might be for the best that I can't.

Please think of me when you look at it Misao and please, above all else be happy. That lovely smile and that beautiful light in your eyes should always be a part of you...

Love always,

Charles

Misao sniffled back the tears then replaced the letter in its envelope. She touched her fingertips to the wrapped parcel and wondered if she should open it. She was afraid to yet terribly curious. Finally her curiosity won out and she tore back the paper to reveal a framed sketch. A sketch of herself looking happier than she ever remembered feeling while in the background was a shadowy man who looked very much like Aoshi and further in the background, light enough to be almost invisible was a ghostly image of Charles himself.

She blinked back more tears and touched the outline of Charles' face. She hid the sketch behind her back when Aoshi knocked on the door and slid the panel open.

"Am I disturbing you"?

"No."

He stepped into the room carrying a package of his own. "I was walking through the marketplace this morning and saw this. It made me think of you." He offered the package to her.

She tucked Charles' sketch under her arm and took the package. "Thank you," she said scurrying away.

Aoshi watched her go and chided himself for being such a fool. It was wrong of him to have touched her last night, wronger still to be buying her gifts, and to be hoping still that she might respond to him as more than a member of her family. Perhaps it would be best to ask Okina or one of the others to escort her to that art gallery at the end of the week.

***

"Ooooh you look so pretty," Omasu said after she finished helping Misao fix her hair and tie her obi the evening of the Charles' art showing. "You look prettier than a princess. Your Charles would be so proud. I wish I could have met him."

Misao glanced at her reflection in the small mirror and told herself as she had all day that she could go through with this evening, even though she didn't want to. Especially not since Gramps informed her that he'd be escorting her. She knew why Aoshi had changed his mind. It was her, Okon. She'd caught a glimpse of them talking yesterday and though she couldn't hear exactly what was said the expressions on their faces showed that the feelings between them were strong ones.

Pushing the pain aside, Misao set down the mirror and smoothed her hand over the rich midnight blue silk of the kimono. "Do I really look all right? You don't think it's too showy do you?"

Omasu sighed wistfully. "You look lovely and it suits you. The silver embroidery is just enough to lighten the fabric without making it look like you're just trying to draw attention. And the obi is perfect, white stitching on white fabric. I can't tell you how good it all looks together." She laughed and collected her hair combs and pins. "I should try to save some money and send Aoshi-sama shopping for me. For a man he has wonderful taste."

Misao did her best to smile though her wounded heart wondered if he'd actually chosen the garment or if he'd had help from Okon who always looked stylish even when wearing a simple yukata to work around the Aoiya.

Before going down to wait for Gramps to get ready to leave, Misao looked at the sketch Charles had left her and silently promised to honor his memory the best she could in front of his friends this evening.

****

"Are you ready, Mi-chan?"

Misao's breath caught in her throat as Aoshi's deep voice broke the silence. She turned slowly, her gaze unconsciously sweeping over his tall form. He was so handsome in the dark Western style suit. "I-I thought you had other plans."

"They weren't as important as this." As you, his heart prodded him to add. He held out his hand to her. "Are you ready?

She nodded and went cautiously forward, allowing him to slip her arm through his, ordering herself not to make any more of this than an Okashira performing his duty.

They arrived a little early and still met with a sizable gathering, Kyoto's elite and Charles' English friends and family were already there eager to see if the Emperor would truly come. Misao was swept away almost immediately by the business agent who insisted on introducing her to everyone he thought important and Aoshi occupied himself by studying the collected artworks, the latest of which were grouped in their own special section.

It took his breath away to see so many likenesses of Misao in various settings from elaborate paintings to simple portrait sketches. It was fascinating to see her staring out at him everywhere he turned. And at that moment, seeing her through another's eyes, seeing how mature and exquisitely beautiful she had become without his realizing it made his heart fairly burst with love and longing for her.

He stood there for quite some time barely conscious of the others who came to look and comment. At last he made himself turn away and sought out Misao in the crowd. He couldn't find her and became alarmed. He searched the spacious gallery finding her finally in a small sitting room at the back. She was standing before an opened window lightly fanning her flushed cheeks.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," she answered not looking at him. "I thought you'd gone."

"I would never leave you, Mi-chan."

There was something in his tone that made time stand still but Misao told herself that she was imagining things. He meant that he would never leave her in a strange place without warning. That was all. She turned after a time and leaned back against the window frame. "I feel so tired. Do you think they'd mind if I left?"

"I think they would understand how difficult this must be for you. I'll tell the business agent you aren't feeling well and then I'll take you home."

Misao nodded. They would understand but they would be totally mistaken. This evening wasn't difficult because she mourned Charles, it was difficult because being here and speaking of him with so many who knew him made her realize that what she felt for him wasn't the love he'd felt for her, it wasn't the type of love he'd deserved.

She had come to love Charles Wyncliff but it wasn't the kind of passion that she felt for Aoshi Shinomori. Charles had been a friend and a confidante but the mere sight of him had never stirred her deep inside the way the sight of Aoshi had tonight and many nights before. Aoshi was in her blood, in her very soul, and despite the fact that he was clearly enamored of another the feeling within Misao refused to die.

If Charles had lived, if they had married, as they surely would have, she would have been a dutiful and faithful wife but she knew now that part of her would never be his. She realized now what he meant in that letter about the look that came into her eyes when she thought of Aoshi.

Being so close to Aoshi in the cramped carriage became too much for Misao shortly after they left the gallery and she asked if he wouldn't mind walking the rest of the way. He gave her a curious look but agreed, draping his coat around her shoulders once they stepped out into the chilly night air.

They walked in silence but within Aoshi's mind and heart there raged a loud battle between his long suppressed emotions and his icy pragmatism fueled by his recent conversation with his half-sister. Okon had insisted that he admit his feelings for Misao to her as well as himself.

Every day you sit outside her room for hours on end, every night you sit on the cold ground beneath her window hoping to catch a glimpse of her because doing so calms the storm within you, it washes away the blood you've spilled that stains your heart. Why can't you admit it?

Because to face her rejection would kill him. It was that simple.

And how could she not reject him? She had found her love. had pledged herself to him. She certainly wouldn't be having a change of heart anytime soon if at all.

Misao glanced over at Aoshi and wondered if she'd done the right thing. It was obvious this was bothering him. She should have stayed in the carriage. At least they'd be back at the Aoiya by now and he could go off and find his dear Okon. Surely that was what had him preoccupied, the longing to be with her as soon as possible.

She wondered when it had started between them and if they were yet lovers. What a foolish question her wounded pride said. How could any woman not want to give herself completely to him within the bonds of marriage or not.

Misao breathed a long sigh that drew Aoshi's attention.

"You look tired. My house is closer than the Aoiya. You can rest there. Or stay the night. I have extra room."

"I don't know. I shouldn't."

"If you'd rather not, I understand."

Misao bit her lower lip. Being near him any longer would surely torment her but at least if she was there Okon wouldn't be and she could have him to herself just a little while longer. "I think I might like to rest--if you really wouldn't mind."

"Not at all," he said, taking hold of her arm and leading the way.

He showed her to a spacious room that faced east and that was furnished with a downy soft Western style feather bed. He lit a warming fire then brought her a brown yukata to wear from his own room across the hall.

"I have to go out for just a little while but I've told Chen that you're here. If you need anything you can pull that cord near the door. It connects to a bell near his room. I won't be gone long."

He paused and peered down at her and Misao thought for a moment that he might lean in and kiss her. But of course that was a foolish notion and when he turned sharply and strode out of the room she called herself every kind of fool for even imagining it.

***

The house was so quiet that Misao felt the walls closing in on her. She shut her eyes, pulled the blankets over her head but sleep refused to come. It seemed like forever when Aoshi left her alone here to do whatever it was he went to do--see Okon no doubt--but when she looked at the small wooden clock near the bed she saw that only an hour had passed.

Misao got out of bed and stood near the window. She stared up at the moon and wished she could go there or anywhere equally as far. Better yet, if only she could go back in time to the moment she realized she was in love with Aoshi Shinomori. If she could, she'd slap the foolish notion right out of her head.

Hearing a noise she looked towards the door. It was Aoshi speaking in hushed tones to another man, most likely his houseman Chen. Only one set of footsteps retreated back down the small corridor and she took small comfort in knowing that Aoshi remained.

She went back to bed but again sleep refused to come so she lay there and stared up at a thin shaft of silvery moonlight on the ceiling as her mind began to swirl with thoughts and questions.

What was she going to do with herself? She'd changed so much in the short time she'd been away from here. The thought of being at the Aoiya and doing as she'd always done bothered her and not just because of Aoshi's presence. Perhaps she'd go back to Tokyo. She'd seen Katsu at the gallery tonight and he said that Himura and Karou sent their best and welcomed her back at anytime. She had enjoyed living there and acting as an interpreter. Perhaps she could do that on a regular basis. Himura knew people in the government and might be able to introduce her to someone who could give her a job of interpreting for visiting officials.

Misao sat up, cross-legged. Yes, that was what she'd do. It was time she really grew up and went out on her own. Though she loved Aoshi and always would she could only do as Megumi Takani did towards Himura. She'd lock that love away deep in her heart and create a new life for herself.

She'd do it as soon as possible. In fact, she'd do it tonight.

She dressed hurriedly not even bothering to braid her long hair; though she took time to carefully fold the yukata Aoshi had given her to sleep in. Impulsively, she held it against her cheek as she had before putting it on. She closed her eyes a moment and though she knew it was absurd, she imagined being close to him, of having his arms wrapped tightly around her as they had been the day he rescued her from the madman Morimoto.

If only it had happened in another time and place, if only she could have frozen that perfect moment and saved it for eternity.

No.

She had to stop this. That was a dream. A stupid girl's dream and she had to get it out of her mind once and for all. Tonight was the start of a new life. A life that had no place for the brooding Aoshi Shinomori.

***

"Mi-chan, what are you doing?"

Misao paused in mid-step, frozen by the sound of the silky voice that never failed to reach into the pit of her stomach and hold tightly. She turned and felt her breath catch at the sight of him standing just outside his room, barefoot, shirtless, a pair of loose fitting dark blue pants his only covering.

It took her a moment to respond for her attention was riveted to the many scars crossing Aoshi's torso.

"I'm leaving. I don't belong here."

His brow furrowed, he came towards her. "Don't belong? I don't understand. You're welcomed here. I thought you might consider this your home as you do the Aoiya."

His words made no sense and she didn't have the strength to try and decipher the riddle. She turned away. "I need to go."

He took hold of her arm when she turned away. "You can't go out alone at this hour. I'll walk you to the Aoiya. Give me a moment to dress."

She didn't want him to accompany her. It was painful enough just being near him. If she stayed by him any longer she might lose her resolve altogether. "No, Aoshi," she said hurrying after him. "I have to go alo---"

She broke off when she reached the door to his room and saw that he had a portrait of her on a table near the window. It was the first painting Charles had done of her. It was the largest of his last works that showed her wearing the silver embroidered kimono that Aoshi had sent her for her birthday.

Aoshi tied his haori about his waist and looked from the painting to Misao, a guilty tinge in his normally icy blue eyes. "It's an amazing likeness," he said softly. "I've never seen a more beautiful woman."

Embarrassed, Misao cast her eyes down. "Charles was a very talented artist. He made everything look wonderful."

"He had the perfect subject in you."

She continued to stare down at the floor embarrassed not only by the uncharacteristic compliment but by the confusion that gripped her. She needed to leave here. She needed to leave Kyoto entirely as soon as possible but part of her wouldn't allow it. Part of her refused to move, or even leave Aoshi's side.

A swarm of invisible fireflies took shape in her stomach in the next instant when Aoshi reached out and tilted her face up so that she was peering into his eyes.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss," he said finally, his hand dropping away. "It's plain to see how much Charles loved you by the care he took in painting you." He inhaled a deep breath and turned away, walked towards the painting. "I know it may seem impossible now, but I'm sure in time that you'll find love again. You're a woman that any man would treasure."

"Then why don't you?"

Misao covered her mouth with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't just say that aloud. She couldn't have said such a foolish thing aloud. She opened her eyes slowly, a sick feeling overcoming her when she saw by the odd expression on Aoshi's face that the words had indeed been spoken.

They stared at each other for what seemed to Misao a lifetime and she thought she was dreaming when Aoshi finally spoke, his tone so soft that it was barely above a whisper.

"But I do treasure you, Misao. I always have."

It was Aoshi who averted his gaze now. His shoulders slumped slightly and he took a series of long, slow breaths to calm his wildly thumping heart. He shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have let go of his control not even for that second. He should have kept the feelings and words buried deep inside where they belonged.

"What...did you say?"

Nothing! his icy self-control shouted.

He looked up as something inside took over and allowed his heart to be free to voice its feelings. "I said that I treasure you, that I always have."

Tears glistened in Misao's eyes and she turned her back to him, her arms crossed protectively in front of her. "And do you treasure Okon as well or is just a mistress?"

"What?"

She replied with a bitter laugh. "Oh come now, Aoshi surely you can't think I'm that innocent or stupid. I know Gramps has his woman in town why should you be any different?"

He came closer, his expression one of indignation. "I don't have a mistress and if I did it wouldn't be Okon."

All the frustration and hurt Misao had been feeling since that day she saw them embracing came rushing out in her words. "Is that so? You certainly found her right for your needs the day I saw you two together in each other's arms!"

"I have never had Okon in my arms and I never would."

"I saw you! You two were right in the front room and looking at each other like lovers."

Aoshi shook his head. "Okon never was and never will be my lover."

"And why is that? She looks the mistress type to me!"

"Okon is my sister."

Misao rolled her eyes and turned away. She was halfway through the door when Aoshi caught her by the arm and spun her to face him.

"Listen to me, Misao."

She pulled her arm away. "I don't have time to listen to lies."

"I do not lie."

Misao laughed. "You have no family, Aoshi. Everyone knows that."

"I have no legitimate family, no. Okon and I share the same mother. She was a widow when she and my father became lovers. When she died shortly after my birth my father took me and Okon's grandmother took her in. The only others to know the truth are your late grandfather and Okina."

Misao stared blankly, the words slowly seeping into her brain. "but, but I saw---"

"I don't know what you saw but you misunderstood. When was this, do you remember?"

"Like it was a moment ago," she said flatly. "It was the day I left for Tokyo. I came to see you, to tell you how I felt about you and I saw the two of you. She was holding her face in her hands. She pressed her fingers to your lips..."

"She was trying to get me to listen to reason, to admit to you and especially to myself that I love you."

I love you

Had Aoshi really said that? Had she really, truly heard him say the words she'd longed to hear forever?

He reached out, stroked his fingertips along the side of her face, cupped her cheek in his palm. She was so soft, so fragile and he was terrified of hurting her in any way. He should have kept the words locked inside. He had no right to love her, none at all.

"You...love me?"

He stared into her eyes not sure if it was disbelief or revulsion he saw forming. His chest constricted and his iron will told him to behave unemotionally as he had since becoming the Oniwabanshu Okashira. For the second time tonight he refused to listen to the cold, commanding inner voice.

"I love you more than I can say, Misao, even though you deserve a better man than I'll ever be. I'm a monster compared to Charles."

She placed her hand on his and he felt her trembling.

"How can you say such a thing? How can you think you're a monster?"

He pulled his hand away and gestured to the scars cross-crossing his chest, showed her the sword calluses on his hands. "I have killed many with these hands. Their blood stains my soul through these scars. You have a pure unblemished heart, Mi-chan. You deserve a man who is equally without sin. You don't deserve a murderer."

His broad shoulders slumped and he sank down into the low chair near the fire, his head hanging down in despair.

Misao came forward and knelt before him, her hands resting lightly upon his knees. "You were born a warrior, Aoshi Shinomori, and warriors kill. It is the way it is and always has been." He looked at her, his eyes filled with such regret that it tore her heart asunder. "Kenshin Himura spent years killing in the Revolution and yet you see him as an honorable man. Why can't you see yourself in the same way?"

"I don't know. It seems different somehow."

She reached up, pressed her hand to his cheek. "It's no different. You're a wonderful, honorable man, Aoshi and I've always loved you because of it."

He closed his eyes a moment then looked at her. He stroked her hair, ran his index finger across her bottom lip and smiled. "I feel so strange. I don't what to say or do..."

"You could...kiss me," Misao said quietly.

Aoshi pulled her onto his lap, slid his hand through her hair, cradled the back of her head and gazed lovingly into her eyes before covering her mouth with his.

Afraid that this was just a cruel dream Misao was too frightened to respond at first, but when Aoshi pulled back and gave her a puzzled look, she blinked back tears of joy and gave herself to him.

The End