Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Evil Within ❯ Awakening - Tears Lost (8a) ( Chapter 10 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Awakening - Tears Lost - TEW 8A




The
Evil Within


Chapter 8a - Tears Lost



"Aoshi-niichan!"
The small child called, reaching her arms up for the tall young boy that stood
before her.


"What
is it, Misao-chan?" The boy picked her up with ease, looking at her with blue
eyes gleaming with tender fondness.


"Do
you promise you'll always take care of me?" she asked softly, her voice full
of hope as she leaned forward and tucked her head in the crook of his neck.


"I
promise," he answered quietly, his fingers gently stroking her hair.


"You'll
always stay here with me?" her voice was soft and blurred with sleep.


"Aa."


"You'll
never leave me?" her voice was softer still, as if she were a distance away,
at odds with the fact that she was pressed against him.


"Never,
Misao-chan."


"You' ll
never hurt me?" She withdrew slightly, her eyes wide with anticipation and
hope for the reassurance she was seeking.


An
icy smile grew on his lips. "Never," he replied sardonically, his grasp
tightening around her until stabs of pain sliced through her as his pale indigo
eyes slowly darkened, almost indiscernibly shifting hues until it became a
bloody crimson.


She
screamed.





Makimachi
Misao awoke with a start, her mouth opened in a silent, pleading scream.


Where
am I? Her eyes carefully scanned the
small, dark room before resting on the candle burning in one corner of the room.


The
place was completely new to her, the sights, smells, sounds…everything was
unfamiliar.


What
am I doing here anyway? Her
body ached terribly, especially her hips, legs, and head. Groaning, she tried to
recall what had happened last to her.


She
was with Aoshi-sama, on their way back to Kyoto. They were in the middle of the
forest…they were all alone. And then-oh kami, pain beyond pain…a sadness so
deep it scorched her heart…betrayal beyond anything she could have possibly
ever imagined.


She
had been raped.


The
harsh reality was like a slap in the face, like the cold fingers of death
reaching out to touch her.


She
covered her mouth with one hand, fighting the urge to vomit as a bout of nausea
assailed her, the recognition twice as painful as she realized who it was that
had violated her so cruelly.


Aoshi-sama,
she thought, tears slowly gathering in her dulled eyes, Aoshi-sama,
how could you?


Her
bitter thoughts were stopped when a piece of her dream floated back to her, like
a memory from another life drifting over her.


His
eyes turned red. Red, like the color of the blood that drips from a murdered
man's paling lips.


The
thought of it not being him comforted her, though barely, as she fought another
onrushing bout of dizziness brought forth by hours-days, perhaps-without food.


An
agonized, strained sob escaped her throat, and she buried her head in her hands
dejectedly and wept.


"Ohayo
gozaimasu…"


Misao
lo oked up in surprise, slowly wiping the tears from her eyes as she heard the
soft, somewhat hopeful voice coming through from the other side of the shoji.



Clearing her throat slightly in hopes of getting rid of the ache there, she
spoke. "Come in," she called, rubbing away the last traces of her tears from
her face.
The
shoji rasped open, and a petite, middle-aged woman with wide brown eyes that
shone with concern entered. A wide, friendly smile grew on her lips as she
placed a bowl of soup down before Misao.


"Good,
you're up," the woman leaned down and deftly touched Misao's forehead, as
if checking her temperature. "Everyone here has been a little worried about
you."


"Worried?"
Misao looked up. As
a matter of fact, who's everyone? Where am I? What am I doing here?
So many questions were going through her mind, but it was a struggle for her
just to open her mouth and force out her voice. "Doushite?"


"Well,"
the woman smiled again, though now it looked a little cynical, "for one thing,
you've been unconscious for almost three days."


Three
days?! I've been asleep for three days?



"Actually," the woman continued, settling herself on the edge of the futon,
"we were so anxious that we had the local doctor check you."


Misao's
heart ominously fluttered in her ribcage. What if they found out about what had
happened to her? "What did he say?" she muttered, studiously avoiding the
woman's motherly gaze in fear of letting her see the alarm in her eyes as she
struggled to keep her voice even.


"He
found a good number of bruises and cuts on you…do you know where you got
them?" the woman reached out and gently ran her fingers over the dark bruise
that was on her left forearm.


Misao
shied away from her touch, gripping her blemished arm with the other hand.
"I-I don't know," she choked out, desperately fighting the tears that were
threatening to spill, "gomen nasai."


"He
also said that you were poisoned-nothing that was really fatal, but something to
be concerned about…" the woman trailed off, prompting Misao for an
explanation.


"I…I
think I ate something by accident," her grip around her arm tightened as her
anxiety grew, "in the forest. I was there before I…arrived here. Maybe
that's where I got cut."


"Probably,"
the woman agreed. "By the way, we never got your name…what is it?"


"Makimachi
Misao," she wound her arms around herself and turned away from the woman.


"Watashi
wa Tsukimaya Yukiko." Yukiko smiled-though she knew that Misao couldn't see
her-and brushed the dark strands of hair that fell into her warm eyes. I'm the
daughter of the owner of this inn."


"Oh,"
Misao nodded as she carelessly dipped the tip of her index finger into the warm
soup and began stirring it. "So…what inn is this exactly?"


"You're
in the Tsukimaya Inn." Yukiko forced out a laugh in hopes of lightening up the
austere mood that had settled down over them, hovering like dark clouds before a
storm. "I know, not very creative, but I think my otousan was out of ideas."


Misao
didn't smile, much less laugh. She simply continued swirling her finger in the
soup. "Where am I exactly?"


"The
Tsukimaya Inn is at the outskirts of Tokyo," Yukiko answered evenly, ignoring
Misao's bleak disposition. With a light grin on her lips, she reached out and
gently held Misao's wrist, halting the spinning of her finger in the bowl.
"That's for eating, Misao-chan," already she had adopted the affectionate
honorific within minutes of knowing her, "go on. You haven't had a bite for
days-you should be hungry by now."


Misao
opened her mouth to oppose this, but then the slight rumbling and the growing
ache in her stomach told her otherwise. "Arigatou," she muttered before
leaning down and sipping the broth.


"You
know," Yukiko began thoughtfully as she watched Misao eat after a minute or so
of uncomfortable silence, "if it weren't for that young man that brought you
here, you'd probably be in a very serious condition, if you were in the forest
unconscious like you said."


Misao
coughed. "A y-young man? Brought me here?" she echoed hollowly, her heart
skipping a beat as Yukiko spoke.


"Hai."


"Did
you get his name?" she asked softly, biting her lip with half-dread and
half-anticipation.


"Well,
no, unfortunately." Yukiko admitted, shaking her head. "He seemed unusually
composed-cold, even-though he was very concerned with your well being. I was the
one that met him when he came here."


"Oh,"
Misao already sullen voice was tinged further with apparent disappointment,
"well…could you recall what he looked like?"


"Oh,
yes," Yukiko nodded. "He had the kind of features that you wouldn't easily
forget. He was very tall-I barely came up to his waist, really…" she paused
at this and laughed lightly before continuing, "he had short black hair, and
his eyes were blue. Unusually blue. Almost like the color of ice, you could
say."


Aoshi-sama,
Misao drew in a sharp breath as Yukiko's description slowly helped piece
together an image in her mind, Aoshi-sama
brought me here?


"Misao-chan?"


"Nani?"
Misao looked up and met Yukiko's questioning gaze with surprised azure eyes,
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."


"Daijoubou,"
Yukiko, assured her, gently patting her arm in a motherly gesture, "I said,
does he sound familiar to you?"


"He…"
Misao wavered for a few seconds before slowly shaking her head. "No. I'm
afraid he doesn't."


"I
see," Yukiko nodded hesitantly, as though she really didn't believe Misao
but was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, "all right. Well, then
you're very
lucky to have a stranger care for you so much. He paid quite a deal of money for
your stay here."


Lucky.
Yeah, right. "He
did?" Misao's apparent shock was slowly increasing at the information this
woman was passing her.


"Oh,
yes. You can actually stay here for at least a week more…" Yukiko nodded.
"But if you're not completely recovered by then, you don't have to worry.
I can cover for you for a few more days after that."


"Arigatou,"
Misao forced out a weak smile. "But I'm sure I'll be leaving by then."


Yukiko
looked genuinely concerned. "Do you have a place to stay when you go?"


Misao
hesitated again for a few seconds. I
don't think I have any other choice but to return to Himura and Kaoru-san.
"Hai," she answered firmly, "I do."


"Yukiko-dono!"


Yukiko
tore her concerned gaze away from Misao and narrowed her eyes at the male voice
that was echoing from the halls outside. "I'll have to go now, Misao-chan.
They need me. Will you be all right?"


Misao
nodded, reaching for a lock of her thick hair and rhythmically beginning to
stroke it.


"Just
call somebody if you need anything at all. Lunch will be given to you here in a
few hours, and I'll personally make sure that the doctor will check up on you
again." Yukiko offered her another comforting smile as she slid the shoji
open.


"That
won't be necessary, Yukiko-san. I'll be fine," Misao answered, the offhand
tone of her voice betraying the fact that her mind was already wandering.


"I
want none of that. I insist. I'll come back later, Misao-chan." With a
slight bow and one last grin, she walked out, sliding the shoji shut behind her.


For
a moment, ephemeral feelings coursed through Misao, the thought of someone
caring for her so much offering her a short-lived sense of security-one that she
feared, after what Aoshi-or whoever that man was-had done to her, she would
never be able to salvage.


Her
mind was already racing as she got up. At this, she realized with a slight air
of surprise that her reaction to the recent events was unusual.


The
past truly repeats itself, she
thought wryly as she picked up her bag and slowly began to rifle through it,
systematically taking out everything, folding it neatly, and placing it back in,
leaving a piece of paper and the calligraphy brush she had carelessly thrown in
before spread out beside her.


It
was almost as if she still clung to that childish belief that if she didn't
think of it; if she pretended it never happened; if she continued the facade of
being unfazed…perhaps one day she might be able to truly convince herself that
she was never hurt, too.


After
she finished rearranging her belongings, she focused her gaze on the paper and
brush that lay on the floor beside her.


I
should write a letter telling Okina that I won't be going back to the Aoiya
just yet, Misao
contemplated as she absentmindedly and yet flawlessly twirled the brush between
her slender fingers, just to make sure he doesn't worry that something bad happened to me.



Almost laughing at the irony of her thoughts, she got up and pulled the shoji
open.
There
a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties stood, whistling a kabuki tune as he
swept the already clean floors.


"Excuse
me," she began quietly, lifting her hand in the man's direction, trying to
catch his attention.


The
man looked up, a smile on his lips. "May I help you?"


Misao
nodded. "I need some ink so I can write a letter…" she waved the brush in
her hand, "may I have some?"


The
man nodded, smiling. "Of course. I'll be right back with some," nodding,
he made his way down the hallway, disappearing from Misao's eyes as he moved
down the stairs, dragging the broom behind him the whole time.


It
was less than a minute later when the man returned, a small bottle of ink in his
hand.


"Here
you go," he handed her the container, the same pleasant smile still on his
face.


"Arigatou,"
Misao forced out a smile in return and closing the shoji again.


Placing
the paper and the ink on the small desk situated at the corner of one room, she
sat down, lightly sucking on the tip on the tip of the brush as she briefly
contemplated what to write.


Jiya,


Konnichiwa!
How have you and everyone else been doing?



As for me, I'm





Misao
hesitated for a moment at this. What should she tell him? Should she really
worry everyone at the Aoiya?


No,
she
finally decided, shaking her head, it's
useless. Besides, it's not like they'd be able to help me.


It's
not like anyone would be able to.


With a
bitter smile on her lips, she continued to scrawl down her letter:





fine.
I'm doing perfectly. I've been having a lot of fun here in Tokyo.


Unfortunately,
something came up - I'll tell you about it when I come back - and neither
Aoshi-sama nor I will be able to return to the Aoiya just yet. Don't worry
yourself, though. Everything's great!





Misao
paused again as she finished this line. Could she really lie outright to Jiya
like this? Sighing, she proceeded to write.





I
don't know exactly when I'll be at Kyoto just yet. I just thought I should
write so nobody would worry. I'm sorry if I disappointed any of you.


If
any of you need to write to me, I'll probably be at Himura's.


Ja!


Misao-chan





Narrowing
her indigo eyes, Misao carefully scanned her letter, trying to see if it was
presentable enough. Deciding it was so, she got up, folding the paper in half,
and made her way downstairs to send her letter.


----------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------------------


Misao
sighed softly as she folded her clothes back into the same bag that she had been
using for the past months.


She
still felt slightly ill, even after three whole days of staying in the inn where
almost everyone-especially that Yukiko woman-was extremely concerned about her
welfare.


But
even so, she was leaving.


She
was determined to prove to the world-and herself, perhaps-that she was undaunted
by the recent events, that she was strong, and that she could survive on her
own.


Don't
think of it anymore, she told herself,
pulling her inky black hair into a braid, don't think of what happened, of
what that man-whoever he was-did to you. It'll only be painful for you.


The
light rapping on her shoji caught her by surprise, and she let go of the
half-done plaits of her braid.


She
groaned. "Come in," she muttered and proceeded in redoing her braid.


Yukiko
peeked in, dark hair, wide smile, motherly demeanor and all. "You're
leaving?" she entered, the corners of her lips pulling down into a frown as
her gaze landed on her bag, which was bulging with clothes. "So soon? You
still have a lot of time to stay here-remember? I told you that when we first
met."


"Hai,"
Misao answered, carefully avoiding Yukiko's inquisitive eyes as she placed the
gold clasp at the end of her braid, "I do."


"So
why are you leaving?" Yukiko demanded, reaching out and placing her hand on
Misao's forehead. "You haven't even completely recovered yet-you're
still warm!"


Misao
stepped away from Yukiko's touch. "I know," she replied quietly,
"don't get me wrong, I love this place…"


"That
doesn't explain anything." Yukiko protested, shaking her head. "Leaving
now, Misao-chan, when you're still sick, wouldn't be a smart choice."


"You
don't understand."


"So
explain to me why you're leaving," Yukiko crossed her arms, pursing her lips
in thought, "so I will understand."


"I
can't," Misao snapped brusquely, fighting a shiver as she thought back to
Aoshi, "but I'm leaving anyway." She flashed Yukiko a somewhat apologetic
smile as she hoisted up her bundle of clothes over her shoulder, straightened
out her ninja uniform, and made her way to the door.


Yukiko
followed her the whole way down, protesting that Misao's idea to leave was a
terrible one, and that no good would come out of it, ignoring the fact the Misao
was only shaking her head stubbornly and mumbling incoherently throughout the
whole tirade.


"Look,"
Misao finally spoke as she approached the gate-with Yukiko still hot on her
heels-and spun around to face her, interrupting her diatribe, "I am so
grateful that you all took the time to take care of me when I wasn't well,
and-"


"I
already told you that it wasn't any problem at all," Yukiko cut in, shaking
her head, "but I just can't understand why-"


"Wait,"
Misao lifted her hand in a silencing gesture, "I need to…there are some
things that I have to do-things which I can't do if I'm here. Understand me?
I can't tell you what they are, but I have to leave."


Yukiko
narrowed her eyes as she contemplated Misao's words. Gone was the young child
she met only days ago that she felt like she had to protect. The woman standing
before her was strong, courageous, and yet at the same time strangely deadened.
Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded.


"Yokatta,"
Misao smiled, though it never seemed to reach her wide azure eyes,
"so…sayonara, Yukiko-san. Domo arigatou."


"Sayonara,
Misao-chan." Yukiko brushed the long strands of dark hair that fell into her
eyes. "Take care, all right?"


"I
will," Misao nodded, and after the slightest amount of hesitation, she reached
out a briefly wrapped her arms around Yukiko.


Letting
go, Misao turned around, swung open the gates and walked into the busy Tokyo
street.



She never looked back.





The
sun had already descended and the somewhat eerie half-moon, along with a light
smattering of stars, had already taken its place in the endless heavens above
Misao by the time she had managed to find the Kamiya dojo-which, incidentally,
turned out to be practically on the other end of Tokyo.


The
long hours that she had spent walking around the large city-sometimes hopelessly
lost-had given her a lot of time to contemplate everything that was going on
around her.


She
was now absolutely certain that the man with her in the forest was not
Aoshi…now all she had to figure out was how this could have occurred-or how it
was even relatively possible.


Shaking
her head, she pushed all these thoughts out of her mind and knocked on the
dojo's wooden gate, hoping that it wasn't too late-she had actually lost
track of time after walking along uninhabited side streets for so many hours-and
that everyone wasn't asleep just yet.


Misao
lifted her fingers to her cheeks to make sure that all traces of the tearstains
on her face were gone, she forced out a smile on her lips.


When
she was walking along a small road that afternoon, she had caught a glimpse of a
young girl being carried by a boy who looked to be her older brother.


The
sight had reminded her of Aoshi and herself in the past, and somehow the thought
of it had brought her to tears. Painful, anguished tears. Tears that she had
been holding in for the past days, for the past weeks…for the past years that
she had spent waiting for Aoshi to come back, even.


Crying
had soothed her pain, though only slightly…her chest still ached with
bitterness and resentment and her stomach still churned with the thought of what
had happened to her.


She
drew in a deep, nervous breath as the gate slowly swung open.


"Konnichi-"
Himura Kenshin's amethyst eyes widened as he looked up and saw Misao standing
there, a large, strangely empty smile on her features. "Oro? Misao-dono,
it's you. What are you doing back?"


"Konbanwa,"
Misao nervously drummed her fingers on her thighs, "I'm sorry to come back
so unexpectedly."


"No,"
Kenshin shook his head, eyes still large with surprise, "I'm sure Kaoru
wouldn't mind. Demo…why are you here? You're supposed to be in Kyoto with
Aoshi by now."


Misao
noticed the lack of the impersonal honorific in Kaoru's name. She coughed,
stalling for time as she tried to think up an idea. She hadn't expected
Kenshin to interrogate her about Aoshi so soon.


Her
silence seemed to have alarmed Kenshin, for his eyes narrowed suspiciously and
his mouth pulled down into a frown. "What happened?"



Misao shook her head vehemently as she looked away from Kenshin's probing
eyes. "Nan demo nai," she insisted quietly, her fists clenching anxiously at
her sides.


"I
know something important happened," Kenshin urged, placing one hand on her
shoulder, "I can sense it. Are you hurt?"


Misao
shook her head, her throat already so tight with unshed tears she was unable to
speak, biting her lip so hard she could taste the metallic tang in her mouth.


"Look
at me, Misao-dono," Kenshin ordered quietly, his voice gentle and yet
insistent, "look at me in the eye and tell me that nothing happened."


Misao
looked up, her tortured cerulean eyes shining with moisture. "Himura," she
whispered weakly, finally letting the first tears to fall,
"Aoshi-sama…he…it wasn't…" she faltered as sobs escaped her throat,
and she placed her right hand over her mouth in hopes of muffling them.


Kenshin
wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, murmuring soothing words as
he did so. "Daijoubou, Misao-dono. It's all right."


Misao
took comfort in his words and in his gentle grasp as she trembled with the force
of her tears.


Kenshin
slowly pulled her into the dojo, his lips pulling into a malevolent line as he
heard Misao whispering Aoshi's name repeatedly, like something of an unholy
hymn, a sorrowful mantra as her tears continued to fall, soaking the cloth of
his hakama.



What did Aoshi do to her?





*~Owari~*





Author's
Notes: Well that was abnormal. x_x Another filler chapter for you all. I'd
still love some comments!!! Chop, choppity chopchopchop…choppily
written…ack! Thanks to Mizu and Jen-san for prereading for me, I very much
appreciate it. ^-^ W00t!


<<<Chapter
7b
Chapter
8b>>>
The
Evil Within
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