|
Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is © Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shuiesha, Sony Picture Entertainment, Jump Comics and Fuji TV. All characters related to Rurouni Kenshin are used here without permission for the purposes of nonprofit entertainment only. All other original content is to be considered sole property of the author. * ---* ---* --- * ---* ---* --- * ---* ---* --- * ---* ---* --- * ---* ---* --- * For Your Love A Tale of the Onmitsu Oniwabanshuu She awoke to the sound of rain, drumming rhythmically in mellow tempo. For a short moment, the world revealed itself to her in a blurry, indistinct haze. Then, slowly as seconds slipped past, her surroundings resolved themselves into sharp, painful clarity. A faint sound of denial escaped her lips as she stretched beneath the covers and turned her head to look at the wall. In the ensuing silence, she listened to her soft breathing as it mingled with the raindrops that danced across the roof. Morning already? But I just fell asleep… Makimachi Misao recognized the thought for the lie and impossibility that it was. It was true that her sleep had been broken and restless, as of late. Just as it was true that she found it more and more difficult to relax into blissful slumber. However, Misao also knew that she must have fallen asleep hours ago. There was that other awareness in the back of her mind that told her so – that understood that her body had gained its necessary rest. But the complaint did serve to make her feel a little better. She burrowed under the blankets, forming a cocoon of warmth and security around her body. I hate the rain. Why can’t it just stay sunny everyday? Misao grumbled and rolled onto her side. Sorting through her thoughts, she decided that it must still be early morning. The Aoi-ya still held that eerie calm that existed only during the pre-dawn hours, before its inhabitants stirred and began preparations for another day of food, service and customers. She held her breath and listened thoughtfully for a minute, just to make sure. Exactly as she thought. Other than the sound of the rain, nothing else could be heard. Under other circumstances, the quiet would have irked her, prodding her to slide soundlessly out of her room. In the silence of those early morning hours, she would slink noiselessly down the halls and into the central courtyard to watch the way the fiery colors of sunrise touched the plants. But not today. Not when the grey, depressing gloom of storm clouds and rain obstructed the view of the sun. Still, it’s quiet. Well, truly told, the monotonous tapping of the rain soothed her, just as watching the sky lighten with the sunrise did. Oddly enough. More often than not, the rain irritated her, though for reasons that she could never fully explain in words. Feelings, it was always feelings with her. But despite anything the other Oniwabanshuu had done to ease her inexplicable unease, the feelings had always remained with her though the years. Much like— Her mind refused to finish the thought but a soft, traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind, What would you do for his love…? Pushing the errant thought away, Misao felt her eyes crinkle a bit at the corners as she smiled in memory. As a young child under the watchful gaze of her Aoshi-sama, Misao would always cry inconsolably whenever it rained. And of course, the other Oniwabanshuu could do nothing else but desperately attempt to soothe her distress. Hyottoko performed tricks with his fire that would put the best circus performer to shame. Or it was Beshimi who would juggle his darts, forming intricate patterns that whirled and arched through the air. Or Shikijou would pick her up and toss her playfully into the air, an act which usually did nothing else but elicit delighted giggles from a fearless child named Misao. But to no avail, her weeping continued. It formed a ridiculous mental image when one stopped to think about it. Three, otherwise physically imposing and battle-hardened ninja, all scrambling one after another to stop the hysterical crying of one, little girl. But not so strange as all that, she supposed. After all, how could anyone suspect that the fearsome Hitokiri Battousai of the Bakumatsu era was actually a short, unimposing, sweet-faced man who looked ten years younger than he really was? Misao laughed softly. In those childhood years, her crying stopped, and only stopped, when Hannya-kun would take her into the safe cradle of his tattooed arms and rock her gently while her beloved – her much beloved – Aoshi-sama knelt across from them and whispered, "Hush, Misao. It is only the rain." To which, Misao would hiccup and sob, "The sun! I want the sun! Where is the sun?" And through her teary eyes, she would watch as her Aoshi-sama’s face softened and an almost-smile played across her lips. "The sun will return once the rain is finished, little Misao. Amaterasu is never present where Susano-oh is, for the dislike between these two is strong." She would sniffle and say hopefully, "But she’ll come back?" "Of course, she will. Have you ever known a time when Amaterasu did not return to us? She guides us with her light and gives us life with her warmth. The sun will return to her people. She always does." And then, only then, would her tears cease because Aoshi-sama’s soft voice soothed her like nothing else could. It was the voice that had told her countless stories, that had murmured nonsensical things to her as she drifted into slumber. After Aoshi appeased her, she would giggle, much to the Oniwabanshuu’s relief and twist in Hannya-kun’s arms to play with his mask with her small hands and their pudgy fingers. So long… Has it really been so long…? But of course, it had been. The others were gone – Hannya, Hyottoko, Shikijou and Beshimi – all gone to their graves, protecting their revered Okashira. And what had happened since Aoshi’s return to her after Shishio? Since they had returned from Tokyo after Enishi? Misao closed her eyes as a memory flickered. "Are you happy, Misao?" "Hai! This is the greatest day of my life. You, Okina, minna… It has all been so wonderful. I’m eighteen!" "Mm…" "What is it?" "It is strange." "What is?" "I remember holding you in my arms after you were born. I remember all the years of raising you and putting you to sleep at night. And here you are… The years have gone by so fast and I, not here to see half of them." Oh, how the words had stung that night, though Misao had hid the pain well. Perhaps too well. Aoshi had not even noticed when he usually was so good at reading her every mood and emotion. And although she had continued on, pretending that she was happy and overjoyed at the advent of her womanhood, Misao had begun to die just a little bit inside. Because with those words, with those innocent and completely good-intentioned words, he had destroyed any dreams that Misao had harbored utterly. What would you do for his love? He loved her, that much she knew and understood. But it wasn’t the type of love that she wanted, the type of love that she needed. Okina and the others gave her the warm, nurturing love of parents, siblings, family – they always had. She had no need for that type of familial love from Aoshi. True, he had always been part of that family but as early as she could remember, her feelings for Aoshi had been different. Her earliest memories were not of Ojisan, Okina or any of the others… No, they were of Aoshi, always of Aoshi – who chased away the darkness and its hidden bakemono; who was always there when a nightmare sent her from the depths of sleep screaming. Perhaps he had indulged her too much in her youth – she had grown to depend on that strong, quiet presence for so long that when he had left all those years ago for Tokyo… Misao had been angry of course. How dare they leave without her? But deep down somewhere, she had understood their reasons. Which was why she had cried so much behind the privacy of closed fusuma. The question became not how dare they leave without her but how could they leave without her. Her love and need had not been enough to keep them in Kyoto. Her love and need would not be enough to keep Aoshi nor make him love her. What would you do for his love? Despite it all, Misao had grown up with those wishes, hopes and dreams intact. They had remained intact all throughout Shishio, Enishi, everything, because in the end, her Aoshi-sama had returned to her. If he could return to her, there was always room for hope… That one day Aoshi would wake up and realize that he loved Misao and always had. That one day Aoshi would state that she was old enough to marry him. That one day Aoshi would declare his undying love for her. That one day Aoshi would… That one day… That one… That… But dreams die. What would you do for his love? Anything… anything at all. Misao slowly rose from the futon into a sitting position, her braid sliding over her shoulder. She tilted her head slightly, listening. The rain continued on, oblivious to her thoughts, her emotions. Or perhaps, it continued because of them but that was just fanciful thinking. "Susano-oh will leave when Amaterasu returns." "Will he? Will he?" "Of course. One does not attempt to incur the wrath of Amaterasu." For the past two years since his return to the Oniwabanshuu, she had waited, trying to show her Aoshi-sama how she had grown, how she had waited for him, how she would always wait for him. Misao had made her choice long ago and perhaps it had been the wrong one. But her heart had long since committed itself – it would not change the object of its utter devotion so easily. And she did not want it to – but when would Aoshi realize? Biting her lower lip, she brushed errant strands of hair from her face and held them there, her hands buried in the soft texture. If Aoshi ever did realize – perhaps this was true. Wishful and pathetic thinking, lost on the rivers of memory. Misao should know better by now. She should know better. But the heart was a mysterious thing – she couldn’t very well stop loving Aoshi anymore than she could stop breathing. Both actions were so ingrained into her mind, her spirit and her soul. I have to stop this. I can’t continue on like this. I can’t go to the temple, serve him tea just to have him look blankly at me. Or worse, with the eyes of a father or an elder brother. It is too much… It is so much to ask of me. Her hands slipped from her hair to clench unconsciously into the sheets that pooled around her waist and legs. Oh Kami-sama, what am I going to do? As if in answer, the rain beating down upon the roof above her head slowly lightened into gentle drizzle. Misao raised her head to gaze quietly at the ceiling. Is this your answer? Is this the only answer that I have? Silence, save for the sounds of quiet drizzle – and even that was beginning to fade. Misao closed her eyes briefly and murmured to herself, "Very well. Another night has passed. Another day has come. And Makimachi Misao will be here to greet it." Sweeping the covers off of her body and rising from the futon, Misao began her preparations for the day. But that traitorous – and oh-so-incessant – voice whispered one last time, What would you do for his love? * ---* ---* --- * ---* ---* --- * ---* ---* --- * ---* ---* --- * ---* ---* --- * Glossary of Japanese Terms Amaterasu: the Sun goddess; the sister of Susano-oh Author’s Notes 1)All comments, constructive criticism, suggestions and questions welcome. This is part of a series of fics I'll be writing about Rurouni Kenshin but since Aoshi and Misao play such an important role in the story arc that I'm planning (trying to plan anyway), I wanted to develop my take on their relationship before I tackle that project. 2) The conversation from Misao’s memory of her eighteenth birthday is from the forthcoming, "One Wish." 3) I assumed that Misao’s parents died when she was still a baby so she has no recollection of them other than what the others have told her. I couldn't find anything that contradicts this but tell me if I'm wrong. Written: 7/27/99 |
