He could still feel her eyes on him, watching as he walked away. A day later, and he could still feel it. Her confusion had been tangible- as though he could reach into the air and wave his hands, and see the ripples caused by the movement. Part of him had wanted to go back and comfort her, as he used to when she was a little girl, before things became complicated. Part of him wanted to be back in Kyoto, far away from this. And a very small part of his mind asked, directly and bluntly, what in the hell he thought he was doing.

He couldn't answer; he didn't know. He snatched at ideas as they came to him, improvising them into plans and offering them up as though he'd known all along what his intentions were. He didn't; in truth, he had not even thought of Hannya and the others when he started trailing Misao from Kyoto to Tokyo. But the desire to show her where they were buried was real; she had valued them as much as he had, in her different ways. He owed her that much, after having been gone for so long without any word.

Surely that was all he wanted...to make up, at least partially, for the hurt he'd caused her by his absense. His absense, and theirs. Telling her a bit more of the story of what had happened to them was the least she deserved. They'd mattered just as much to her as to him.

Surely that was all he wanted...he shook off the thought. It wasn't important. He would show her where their friends were buried, and that would be enough.

But he could still feel her eyes on him, watching as he walked away.

Misao hated waiting.

She always had. Whether it was waiting for her birthday to arrive, or waiting for breakfast to be ready, or waiting for someone to have enough free time to spar with her...she couldn't stand it. Whatever it was she was waiting for, she wanted it now.

And never had she hated waiting more than she hated it now.

Stupid Aoshi-sama.

Her nose wrinkled. No one had questioned her when she'd gotten back to the dojo yesterday, not even Kaoru-san. Maybe she'd succeeded in hiding how confused she was. The day had continued as if nothing had happened, the tumultously happy air of things not in the least shaken by the odd meeting. It'd cheered her a great deal, and she'd resumed bickering with Sanosuke with a good heart. It hadn't been hard to set aside her worries and feel, once more, like she was on vacation.

This morning it was much harder. Everything was so quiet...she'd woken up tense with anticipation, and things had just gone downhill from there. After breakfast everyone had wandered off to do things. Kenshin was doing laundry with Ayame-chan and Suzume-chan; Misao sometimes wondered if he got things dirty on purpose, in order to play with the kids under the guise of doing work. They certainly were having fun blowing soap bubbles at each other. Yahiko and Kaoru were in the dojo, sparring.

Misao herself had washed the dishes and then flopped down on the porch, giving herself up to brooding.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see Aoshi-sama. And she definitely wanted to see where Hannya and the others...where...well. Aoshi-sama had never been willing to talk about what had happened to them; the only reason the Oniwabanshuu knew what had become of their missing members was because of Himura. Misao desperately wanted to know Aoshi-sama's side of the story. Not just because it was Aoshi-sama, but because they'd been her family...she missed them every day. Himura meant well, but she wanted to hear the story from Aoshi-sama, because he'd known them.

But at the same time part of her hoped that he'd never show up, that he'd stay far away and she wouldn't have to think about what she wanted from him, what she should or shouldn't do.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see him...just that she wished she knew how she felt about it. She was so confused. She wanted to hate him, wanted to be angry or indifferent...wanted to tell him to go away...wanted him to stay...couldn't help being glad to see him, couldn't help...

Misao closed her eyes. Stupid Aoshi-sama!

Something- an acorn?- bounced off her head; she mewed in discontent and scowled up at the shadow that was suddenly looming over her.

Sano grinned. "Some onmitsu you are."

Misao stuck out her tongue. "I knew you were there all the time," she lied.

"Sure you did. I see you're back to your usual weasel-girl outfit; too bad. Next time we play dice I'll get you to dress like a real girl for a week instead of just a day."

"Next time we play dice, you'll lose." The retort was automatic; there wasn't any real heart in it. For some reason Misao didn't feel up to playing games with Sano today. Not while she was trapped here waiting for stupid Aoshi-sama to show up...

"Well, as long as you're dressed for it, wanna spar?"

Misao blinked and looked back up at him. He was still grinning, but seemed sincere enough. "Huh?"

"You know, sparring? One of us punches or kicks and the other dodges? Those ninjas did teach you how to fight, didn't they?"

"Don't be an idiot, rooster. I could beat you up any day."

"Prove it."

"Fine!"

She leapt to her feet and threw a punch directly at his chest. She was annoyed and emotionally off-balance enough that more weight was put behind it than she intended; if it hit, it would probably hurt him. Not that it mattered; he dodged easily, and attacked her side.

Not with the punch she expected. Instead he started tickling her, evading her attempts to block without any difficulty. However much she tried to squirm away, she couldn't escape. "AAAAAAHHH!!!! B-baka...!" she laughed helplessly, trying and failing evade him. "Stop that!"

"No way!" he grunted. "Not until you promise to stop being gloomy and go back to the weasel girl I like!"

"Augh! Anything! I promise! Just stop TICKling me!" To her mortification, Misao's voice rose up to a squeak of helpless giggles. It seemed to do the trick. Sano stopped and took a step back, smirking at her while she tried to catch her breath.

She glared up at him, the beginnings of a smile touching the corners of her mouth despite herself. "That...*puff*...wasn't...fair!"

He shrugged, grinning down at her.

"Tickling does NOT count as sparring!" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him.

"True enough. Shall we try again?" She eyed him with suspicion, and and held up his hands. "I promise, for real this time. No tickling."

"Good, 'cause if you try that again, I'll beat you to a bloody pulp." She stood and walked over to the center of the yard, holding up her hands in preparation.

He just waited, watching her.

Misao's eyes narrowed in concentration. I haven't worked out since I left Kyoto, and Sano's good...what to do...

She aimed an experimental punch towards his shoulder; he used one arm to block and push her punch off to the side, away from him, and countered with the other. She blocked that, and soon they were at it in full, trading blow after blow that never quite hit.

It was like some sort of intricate dance...Misao could feel the pattern that was formed by their motions. If she did this, then he would have to respond with this, leaving her an opening for this...it wasn't quite predictable; every so often one of them would catch the other off guard with something unexpected.

She recognized that he was being kind, fighting at her level instead of his...but somehow she didn't mind. What would have been patronizing from Aoshi or Okina didn't bother her coming from Sano. She even appreciated it, knowing that the real goal of this exercise was not to increase her skills, but to calm her mind. Deep down she knew this; on the surface she didn't need to know, concentrating only on the motions of her arms and legs as she twisted in and out of reach.

She was so engulfed in the rhythm of it that it took her several minutes to realize that someone was watching.

...Aoshi-sama...?

That broke her concentration. Before Sano had a chance to break through her defenses entirely, she performed a spontaneous backflip away from him, looking over to the side as she twisted in mid-air. She could see a blur of off-white with dark hair, and knew her guess had been right.

When she landed she was looking directly at him, and he at her. His face was calm, as impassive as ever. Misao had to resist the urge to blush, wondering what he was thinking.

Hastily dragging her gaze away, she turned back to Sano and bowed slightly. "Thanks for the match, rooster."

He grinned and walked over, bending down quickly to whisper in her ear. "Don't let him get to ya, weasel girl." He stood up and winked into her surprised face, and headed back towards the dojo.

She giggled, watching as he walked off, hands in his pockets, whistling. For some reason, she felt much better.

Thank you, Sanosuke.

She cocked her head at Aoshi, who had continued to stand by the gate, watching. "Shall we go?"

He nodded once, and they left.

They traveled for several hours, moving out of the city and up into the mountains. Not a word was spoken between them in all that time. Misao found that she had nothing to say; her mind was oddly calm, still focused on her body's movement as her legs stretched to walk up hills, around trees. More and more trees appeared, until they were in the depths of a forest.

Aoshi paused for a moment, looking around, and Misao took advantage of the break to close her eyes and let her head fall back, feeling the sunshine on her face. This was the best part of traveling on my own, before, she thought, remembering the time she'd spent on her own, looking for Aoshi and the others. The sun was warm on her face, and she smiled slightly.

"This way," a quiet voice said next to her. She opened her eyes and nodded, following.

Only a few minutes after that, they were there. Misao swallowed over the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat as her eyes glanced over the scene.

It was a beautiful spot...a small clearing in the trees, the occassional wildflower darting up from the ground. In the clearing were four mounds of dirt.

Hannya...Beshimi...Shikijou...Hyotoko.

Her eyes stinging with tears, she stepped forward and knelt down in front of them, staring. Memories overwhelmed her; Shikijou lifting her high into the air, carrying her on his shoulder...Beshimi leaving small rocks in her bed as a prank, and the way she'd retaliated by stealing all of his rasenbyou...begging and begging Hyotoko to breathe fire into the air for her, clapping her hands in delight when he did...

Hannya, endlessly kind, endlessly patient, teaching her about kempo, and about not judging how good or evil a person is by the way they look...

She closed her eyes once more, briefly. I'll always miss you. "Aoshi-sama...what happened to them?"

He was standing off to the side, leaning against a tree. It took a long time for him to respond; when he did, the words sounded forced. "I failed them."

Her breath caught. "What?"

His eyes were fixed to the graves, and his voice was low and halting. "We had been working for Kanryuu for months...protecting him, acting as his spies. He had no honour, but I owed him a debt, and they wouldn't leave me. I hadn't realized his full intentions, that he had more in mind than petty opium dealing...debt or no, I wouldn't have stayed if I had. There was a point...he insulted them, and I reminded him that it was I who led the Oniwabanshuu, that his orders meant nothing to them. They stayed only because of me."

He paused for a long minute before continuing, his voice even more quiet than before; she had to listen very carefully to hear him. "He decided that we had become expendable, that it would be easy to kill us along with the Battousai. He had a gatling gun. I had just been beaten by Himura; I could barely move. He fired the gun towards me. I expected to die. But Shikijou was there; the bullets hit him directly in the back, and he fell. Right in front of me."

Tears were running freely down Misao's face now, seeing it in her mind. She let them fall.

"Hyotoko and Beshimi pulled that trick of theirs, where Beshimi hid on the other's back and surprised the enemy. They both were shot. Hannya ran across the room to distract Kanryuu long enough for Himura to pick up his sword. He was cut down. All of them dead, and I couldn't move. I could do nothing!"

The pain was there in his voice now, raw and undiminished, even though more than a year had passed since the events he was relating. More than anything, Misao wanted to throw her arms around him, to comfort him, any way she could.

But she knew he would never allow it. It was hard enough for him to let her see his pain; her pity would be more than he could stand. All she could do was sit there, crying the tears that he couldn't and aching.

"I brought them here and buried them, digging their graves with my hands and the hilt of my kodachi. I swore that I would kill the Battousai, so that the Oniwabanshuu would be known as the strongest... so that they would be remembered. They died because of me."

"No," Misao cried out, her voice breaking. "Aoshi-sama, no..."

He closed his eyes, closed his ears, even as she watched. He couldn't hear her, and she couldn't comfort him. There was nothing to say.

She bowed her head, letting herself mourn. She had never truly done so before; the shock of learning about their deaths had been followed so closely by Aoshi's fight with Okina that all that had remained was a shock too great to allow for mourning.

Now, now she could mourn...for their deaths, for Aoshi's pain, for the lonliness she felt because of both...

Minutes or hours later, when she looked up, she realized that the light through the trees was different. Sunset...we must have been here for a long time.

It's too late to start back now; we might as well stay in the woods overnight. It's not like we haven't done that before.

"Ne, Aoshi-sama..." she started quietly. "It's getting dark. We should probably stay here."

He looked up, the pain in his eyes muted and replaced by a slight amusement. "Here?"

Misao almost smiled herself, seeing his point. How many people would willingly sleep next to a grave? "I'd rather be here," she said softly.

He nodded, but didn't move.

Misao scrubbed her face clean of the remains of her tears and stood. All right, then. She spent several minutes gathering firewood; eventually, Aoshi joined her.

Not long after that there was a fire burning, just in time to warn off the slight chill that was tinging the air as the sun set fully. Misao had rummaged through the pack she had brought with her and found a few potatoes- she'd meant for them to be lunch, but somehow they had both forgotten about that, and now she was ravenous. The potatoes were buried in the fire, where they cooked and then were dragged back out with a stick, or with fingers that became slightly burned. Misao let out a small yelp, tossing the potato back and forth between her hands until it had cooled down enough for her to eat.

The silence stretched out as the stars rose, the two of them sitting only a few feet apart, watching the fire burn.

Misao nearly jumped out of her skin when Aoshi spoke to her; usually, it was her self-appointed duty to break such silences. The words he said were only slightly more surprising than the fact that he spoke at all. "Why are you still an onmitsu, Misao?"

The question seemed completely random. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Misao. It was obvious that you enjoyed yourself yesterday, acting like any other girl. Why didn't you take up a normal life when this age began, like so many of the others? Why did you study to be a ninja? Why do you still?"

She was silent for a long time, considering the question. Without really thinking about it, wanting something to be doing with her hands so that she could think more clearly, she pulled out one of her throwing-knives and began tossing it into the air, catching it and tossing it over and over with her right hand. It glittered mesmerizingly. Its light was clear and cold as it reflected the fire... but the knife much warmer than Aoshi's eyes, and much easier to look at.

"Grandfather was Okashira," she said finally. She caught the kunai and clutched its small handle carefully, watching it gleam. "I was very young when he died, but I remember him and his pride. When I was a kid, I idolized you- the youngest person ever to be chosen as Okashira. Even then, I could see how all members of the Oniwabanshuu respected you. My closest friend was Hannya, who taught me to use these kunai so long ago that I can't remember a time when they weren't as familiar to me as my hands themselves." She carefully put the kunai back in its holder. "After my parents died I was raised by Okina, who was practically the leader of the Oniwabanshuu himself after you left, and who decided not to let its remainders fade away entirely. He made a place for us in this new age."

She glanced at him, but looked away quickly. "My entire life I have been ninja, surrounded by other ninja. There is nothing else I know, nothing else I could do. I can't think of anything else that I'd ever want to do. This is my life." Her eyes hardened. "And I'm never giving it up. Not ever. Not if Jiya asks, not if you ask, Aoshi-sama, not even if it means my death. I'd rather die than lose this."

Aoshi said nothing, but Misao could feel him watching her. Part of her wanted to break the silence, which was quickly growing uneasy, but she could think of nothing more to say after having put into words what she had always known but never consciously thought about. She waited.

When he did speak, his words were again not what she expected. "Why do you call me that?"

"Huh?" she looked over at him, but- as usual- could read nothing in his expression.

"Aoshi-sama. As though I'm still your superior."

There was a pause as, confused, she tried to come up with an answer. "Well, aren't you?" she said finally.

"I forfeited my title as Okashira when I willingly turned to evil in order to gain a chance to defeat Himura Battousai. I betrayed the Oniwabanshuu utterly when I fought and nearly killed Okina. I followed the coward's way into treachery to avoid my own shame and grief, my failure to protect Hannya, Beshimi, Hyotoko, Shikijou. I have sacrificed all my honor, for nothing." His eyes were very serious, but no longer cold. "In what way am I superior to you?"

Misao felt tears spring to her eyes suddenly. She floundered for words, trying to find some way to make him understand how she felt. "Aoshi-sama..." she started, faltering as she saw something- anger? annoyance?- flash through his eyes. She took a deep breath. "Aoshi-sama. After the revolution ended, you were offered government jobs of all sorts, from bodyguard to administrator to policeman. You turned them all down because none of the other Oniwabanshuu were made similar offers. Because you were leader, and you would never abandon those who followed you. We all knew that. Hannya and the others were willing to die for you because of that."

She could see him beginning to frown, and continued before he could interrupt. "I...I know you made some mistakes, and did a lot of wrong things. But, the person we all respected so much is still there, inside you. If you deny that, then Hannya and Shikijou, Beshimi and Hyotoko...you're saying they died for nothing, and you know them better than that. I don't think you're hopeless, Aoshi-sama. I don't think you have no honor. Maybe you have too much." A few tears were falling, and she hastily wiped them away, turning her face away from him so that he wouldn't notice.

He was all at once beside her, turning her cheek back towards him and looking at her intently. Lightly, his thumb brushed along her skin, following the tracks of her tears. "Even now?" he murmured. "Even now, you think so highly of me?" She nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from his, not sure if she even wanted to. "Misao..."

Misao had never been so aware of anything as she was now, of his presence, his thumb lightly caressing her cheek. She was afraid to move, lest the moment disappear. She'd never felt so close to him before. Not just physically; she felt as though she were finally, finally beginning to understand him, and that made up for everything else. He was so nearby...slowly, she reached up and lightly touched his hand with her own.

She drew in her breath sharply with disappointment and hurt when he jerked away as though she'd burned him. He turned his back on her and walked away. "It's late. We should sleep now, if we want to make an early start in the morning."

The tears came back immediately, and squeezed her eyes shut to keep them from overwhelming her. "Why do you always pull away from me?" she whispered helplessly, while getting to her feet.

She could almost feel his attention snap back to her. "What?"

Her eyes flew open and she glared at him angrily. "Why do you always pull away from me?!?" she shouted. "If you care about me, why do you deny it? And if you don't care about me, then why in the hell did you follow me here?!!" She was shaking with fury now, screaming, the tears pouring down her face and she didn't care..."You never give me any options, you won't let me let you go, you won't leave me alone but you never give me any encouragement at all, I can't tell if you like me or think I'm a nuisance, I...I can't..." Her voice choked on a sob. "Damn you!"

She turned and stormed off into the woods, scrubbing the tears from her face as she went and pushing branches and bushes aside blindly. Aoshi watched her go, his expression stunned. One hand reached out as though calling her back, then fell limply to his side.

taibou: expectant waiting

This is fun. =)