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.

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The heavy scent of the shoko filled the air, clogging his lungs. Aoshi raised his gaze from the tatami to look at the proud Okashira of the Onmitsu Oniwabanshuu. But on this day – this one day – no pride, no strength filled the elder man’s face. Aoshi averted his eyes as he read the raw pain and grief so evident in that face, aging it by decades. The tiny bundle in the man’s arms squirmed restlessly, the somber atmosphere of the room evident even to her. A baby girl as energetic and joyful as her should not be here. The sorrow would serve no purpose but to burden her young spirit.

Misao-chan…

A hand touched his shoulder lightly. Aoshi turned his head slightly to peer out of the corner of his eye at Hannya. The masked man shook his head with the slightest of motions in warning. The boy acknowledged the implicit advice and turned his attention back to the paper-shielded shrine situated in the front of the room. The Okashira knelt silently next to the shrine, accepting the condolences that people brought with a solemn nod. Outside thunder rumbled ominously.

The sky is crying because Miharu-san is dead.

Misao-chan grew more and more agitated as the periods in between thunder rolls decreased. Aoshi linked his hands in his lap and closed his eyes, listening carefully so that he could count the seconds. Thirty… Twenty… Ten… The storm approached rapidly considering how quickly the length of time shortened. A soft whimper filled the silence of the room as a loud boom shook the walls.

Opening his eyes, Aoshi raised his head just in time to see a tiny fist shake frantically. Misao-chan whimpered again, breaking into a small cry on the last note. His voice… Misao-chan needed to hear his voice. She had become attached to it, from the very first moment the midwife had placed the delicate, wailing newborn in his arms… because her grandfather had been on a mission and her father was dead.

And her mother…

Aoshi clenched his fists into the material of his white mofuku. Miharu-san had not even wanted to look at the precious gift that was her daughter. He turned his head again to look at the two strangers who knelt in the back of the room. The two ninja from Kouga – Hannya and several of the other Oniwabanshuu did not trust the two men but still, considering what they had done—

A tiny cough interrupted his thoughts, forcing him to shift his attention back to little Misao-chan. Judging by the manner in which her fists and legs flailed, somehow escaping the protective blankets, the baby was going to launch into screaming hysterics. Aoshi wanted to take Misao-chan from the Okashira so that at the very least, he could have peaceful calm on this one terrible night. But he was not entirely sure the man would relinquish his granddaughter so easily. Not when she was the only tie left to his beloved daughter, Miharu. Aoshi bowed his head as thunder reverberated through the air, followed by the sounds of raindrops hitting the roof.

Misao-chan began to cry.

"Here we are!" Misao announced brightly as she placed the two wooden containers on the ground. She raised her hands above her head in a lithe stretch before placing them on her hips. She studied the four grave markers critically before giving a sigh. "Look how much the weeds have overgrown! Mou!"

Aoshi came to a halt beside her, quietly lowering two more wooden containers to the grass. Straightening, he turned to meet her expectant, blue-eyed gaze. He arched an eyebrow after a moment before looking away.

Puzzled, Misao studied his profile. That was impossible. She couldn't have possibly seen amusement flickering in those eyes. A part of her mind tucked away the memory of that expression for future reference. The rest of her mind focused upon the four stones marking the graves of the fallen Oniwabanshuu. She took another step forward and knelt, carefully arranging her traveling clothes – though why Omasu and Okon had insisted that she wear the light, traveling kimono as opposed to her usual outfit was beyond her. Those clothes were much more practical than this kimono. I am not a tomboy. It just makes more sense. But despite all that, here she was, wearing a kimono. I can't believe I let them talk me into wearing this.

Tossing her braid back over her shoulder, Misao began to pull the rampant weeds from the grave that she knew to be Hannya's. "Ne, Aoshi-sama?"

"Hmm?" She felt his presence move next to her, like a trickle of electricity dancing down her nerves. The tall man lowered himself to his knees gracefully and started to help clear away the vegetation.

"Do you remember when we first brought them here? Almost two years ago now." Nearly two years ago, when they had left Tokyo after saying goodbye to Kenshin and Kaoru and she still remembered the words that he had spoken.

It had been a sign, hadn’t it? That he had begun to heal, right?

"Time passes quickly," he replied in his soft voice. He brushed away some dirt from the stone marker in front of him. Shikijou, Misao thought automatically, remembering the towering man who used to carry her on his shoulders. Aoshi continued quietly, "They will be glad to see how much you've grown."

Misao smiled as she glanced at him. He seemed more subdued than usual, not that it was an easily discernible thing. But there was something that she could not quite put her finger on… Shaking her head slightly, she replied, "Iie, they watch over us everyday. I can feel it. It is what family does – watch and protect. So… I don't think I'll be such a surprise." Still, it warmed her heart to hear Aoshi say it. Maybe it meant that he was finally noticing her as a woman. Well, she could always hope anyway. "Ne, Aoshi-sama?"

He did not reply but Misao did not expect him to do so. Once, when she had been a little girl, she had been able to predict and read his every emotion and thought. But the years that Aoshi had spent away from the rest of the Oniwabanshuu had changed all that. True, Aoshi had never been an expressive person, but he displayed his emotions nonetheless through the little actions that marked his movements or the faint facial expressions that drifted across his otherwise stoic face.

But as Aoshi said, time passes quickly and with it, changes are always wrought. The little actions and flickers of emotion that she had once used to judge his moods were no longer as accurate. Misao had striven to regain those skills, once it became apparent that they had been lost. As of now, she would be able to predict three-quarters of his reactions perhaps, but it did not satisfy her. And she still hadn't made Aoshi smile. Just one smile. It doesn't even have to be big, a little one will do. Is it too much to ask of you, Aoshi-sama?

As she completed clearing Hannya's grave, Misao patted the mound, now covered with grass and wildflowers. "Arigatou, Hannya-kun, for watching over me ever since I was little." Aoshi paused in his movements as she spoke the words out loud. Misao turned and picked up one of the wooden containers to place it next to the stone marker. The lily stirred with the movement. "White, just like the ones you used to give me when I was little."

Misao glanced over at Shikijou's grave to see that Aoshi had almost finished cleaning it. She moved to pick up another lily from the three remaining. Aoshi knelt back on his heels, hands resting loosely against his thighs. She moved past him to place the lily as an offering. This time the white petals held the faintest tinge of pink along their petals.

"Just like a blush across those little cheeks of yours, Misao-chan." Shikijou would say before giving her cheeks a light pinch as she giggled.

Misao moved on to clean Beshimi's grave while Aoshi went to Hyottoko's resting place. The time passed as they cleared away the weeds, the silence broken by Misao's laughing chatter and Aoshi's quieter responses. After they finally placed the two remaining lilies – a soft violet for Beshimi and a fiery red for Hyottoko – next to their respective graves, Misao rose to her feet and stretched again, reveling in the feel of lengthening muscles. Glancing up at the bright sky and the position of the sun, she asked, "It's about late afternoon. We should start back if we want to arrive before sunset, ne?" The crisp, autumn season did not make it entirely hospitable for a night camped out underneath the stars, especially when the temperatures dropped. Misao looked at him for a response and froze, disconcerted by the way his eyes measured her. When he did not answer, she cleared her throat uncomfortably and prompted again, "Aoshi-sama?" The intensity of those grey-blue eyes was unnerving.

Aoshi blinked and the intensity seemed to vanish as if it had never been. "Aa," he replied softly.

Misao watched in confusion as he walked away from her in the direction of Kyoto. What had just happened?

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Aoshi kept his strides shorter than usual, mostly to let Misao keep pace with him easily. For the first hour, she had remained quiet, which was extremely odd. He could not recall a time when he had ever been in Misao's presence and she had not engaged in the telling of a story or joke. Or more recently, her unexpectedly gentle and noninvasive questions about him. The years truly had passed so quickly. It seemed like it was just yesterday that he had sat on the roof of their old Edo base with a drowsy, two-year old Misao in his arms, telling her stories as they gazed at the stars. Her heart then had been just as devoted as it was now, much to his eternal regret.

Misao, turn your heart away. I am not what you want and certainly not what you need.

Everything was changing now, things that he could not fully explain. In two weeks' time, Misao would turn eighteen. When had she grown up? Okina, Omasu and Okon were in the middle of their massive planning for the celebration. Even Himura Kenshin and Kamiya Kaoru had been extended an invitation. But despite it all, they had managed to keep it a secret from Misao, though he already knew that she suspected. Misao had always been observant, underneath that lively exterior. When they had first started, Okon and Omasu had tried to involve him in the process but even as Okashira, certain things were still out of his league. Planning celebrations was one of them.

The upcoming celebration had also forced him to look at his current circumstances and re-evaluate them. Iie, that was incorrect. What it had done was force him to admit the reality that he had denied for so long. The deaths of his men still haunted him at night, when his dreams replayed the memories over and over again. Those were the more fortunate times. Because other times he dreamt of his time spent as a shura, walking the path of evil where he had killed so many men and even nearly killed the Oniwabanshuu's beloved Okina. Thoughts of the past inevitably brought to his mind questions of the future. And questions of the future, of course, always led to her.

Misao was in love with him. Do not be ridiculous, a part of his mind admonished. They had known each other from the time when they were just Misao-chan and Aoshi-niichan. All during that time, he had known that Misao idolized him. But when he had returned to fulfill Himura's promise, Aoshi had noticed that the hero worship – while still present – was tinged with something else. Given Misao's exuberant nature, it was a difficult thing to miss. And as a full cycle of the seasons had passed since Enishi's Jinchuu, Aoshi had recognized that other emotion for what it was.

It is just an infatuation. It will pass.

Aoshi could only hope. He should have foreseen it when Misao would grow into a starry-eyed adolescent who dreamt of her first lover. But how could he have known? Aoshi had known her from the moment she was born. One did not think of a child like that. Although… sometimes when he meditated in temple as Misao would greet him with a smile and present him with his morning tea, Aoshi imagined what it would be like— He ended the thought before it could even finish.

Misao was like the sun, bright and nurturing with all its warm light. She deserved someone better than a man whose spirit skulked in the shadows. Time would change her feelings eventually, make her realize them for the superficial emotions that they were. Aoshi was a patient man; he could wait. It would be easier this way and much better. Everything I have done, Misao, everything was and is always for you.

And finally, her cheerful voice said, "Ne, Aoshi-sama?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Hmm?" There was that dreaded gleam in her eyes again.

"So what are Okina and the others planning? It has something to do with my birthday, doesn't it? Is it a big party?"

Aoshi felt his lips curve just a bit. Leave it to Misao to have all the subtlety of a club. "You would have to ask him, Misao. I thought that they were just planning on having a small dinner at the Aoiya."

Misao skipped in front of him, walking backwards so that she could watch his face, trying to see if he was lying. "Is that so? Then I wonder what all those letters were about? You know, the ones that they sent a couple weeks ago?"

He was impressed at Misao's ability to amass so many facts in so little an amount of time. Not too long ago, she would never have resorted to such methods, preferring more direct ones. But a small part of him was beginning to worry. If Aoshi ruined the surprise, there was no telling what Okon and Omasu would do, Okashira or not. So he lied, "I have no idea."

Misao wrinkled her brow as she studied his face. After a moment, she said slowly, "All right."

Aoshi smiled inwardly at the faintly disappointed look on her face. She looked absolutely adorable with that expression, the signature braid and the light-blue kimono. Misao looked almost… feminine and—

What was he thinking?

Changing the subject, mostly just to serve as a distraction, he continued, "Have you thought about your wish? I remember how you used to spend days on end, trying to decide."

Misao gave a gamine grin and shrugged. "Not yet but I will come up with the perfect wish. It takes time to do these things— Heh?" Her sentence ended abruptly as her foot snagged on a rock, jarring the smooth motion of her walk.

Immediately Aoshi moved to catch her before she could fall, his hands closing around the soft material of her obi. She pressed her hands on his chest to balance herself as he placed her on both feet once more. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Tilting her head back to look up at him, she nodded. "Hai. It's this kimono. I can't seem to move at all like… I… usually…" Her voice trailed off.

For a moment, Aoshi did not understand what made her stop talking but when he saw her pupils dilate, he realized just how close the two of them were. He could practically feel her breath against his chin. Let go of her, a mental voice advised frantically.

"Aoshi-sama?" she asked, with just the faintest catch in her voice. A hand raised to touch his face.

He swallowed and closed his eyes, turning his face from her as he dropped his hands. He took a step away from her. Aoshi opened his eyes again and looked at her face, radiant like the sun although a blush suffused her cheeks. Stepped back another pace.

Misao blinked several times as if realizing where they were and what they were doing and instantly pulled back her hand. Her blush deepened even further. "Ano…"

Aoshi moved around her. "We should keep moving if we want to reach the next town before nightfall." After a long moment, he heard Misao slowly move after him, twigs and grass crunching as she passed. A few more minutes passed and the girl began to talk again, sometimes asking questions about the surprise celebration and sometimes just harmless chatter.

Why is this so difficult? He thought as he answered a question. She is just a child compared to you.

They reached the outer limits of Kyoto and continued into town.

They arrived late in the afternoon, just as the sun began to touch the horizon. Misao stepped into the genkan and shouted, "Tadaima!" She kicked off his sandals, exchanging them for slippers.

"Okaerinasai!" Okina peered around the corner at the two of them. "How was the visit?"

As usual, Misao launched herself at him, to which Okina responded with one of his trademark bear hugs. "Jiiya—Breathing is becoming a problem!" she managed to gasp out.

"Oh—Gomen, Misao-chan." He apologized as he released her.

"Itai," she muttered as she rubbed her much abused ribs. "Jiiya, I wish you’d stop doing that!"

"Demo, that wasn’t even that hard."

"Not hard?" She stared incredulously at the old man.

Aoshi quietly walked past the two and their characteristic greeting, placing the one pack on the floor. Okina called out after him, "Wait, Aoshi. There is a matter that I must discuss with you."

Hearing the underlying tension in those words, Aoshi stopped and turned. Misao apparently heard it too because she asked, "Ne, is everything all right?"

"Ah—Iie, nothing that you need to concern yourself about, Misao-chan. You must be tired and hungry after your journey. Why don’t you go take a bath and then get some dinner from Omasu."

Aoshi silently observed the exchange. Why was Okina trying to get rid of Misao? Did the matter involve her—? He realized what it was probably about then. The celebration. Okina, you are not being very subtle either. No wonder Misao has learned as much as she has.

The same train of thought must have occurred to Misao because her blue eyes flickered back and forth between the two men. Frowning a little, she asked, "Jiiya, are you trying to hide something from me?"

Okina held his hands up in appeasement. "Misao, I promise you nothing is the matter. I just want to talk to Aoshi about some business concerning the Aoiya. It would bore you anyway. I know how much you hate paperwork."

Inwardly Aoshi winced. Misao hated it when people assumed things for her. More so now than ever as she approached adulthood with leaps and bounds. As predicted, those eyes narrowed dangerously. Before she could explode into a tirade, he said, "Misao, could you take our things upstairs? The pack is cluttering the entrance and customers will be coming soon."

Distracted, she shifted her attention to him. The words took a few seconds to register before her face lit up. "Hai!" she replied with a nod, her dispute with Okina quickly forgotten. Taking the pack, she vanished inside, the sounds of her footsteps echoing behind her.

Aoshi watched her departing back with a flash of regret. He should not have used her feelings for him like that. Misao always did anything that he asked of her and it was cruel of him to take advantage of that fact. But judging by the strained expression on Okina’s face, it could not have waited much longer. "What is it? Did something go wrong with Misao’s birthday celebration?"

"Iie, Aoshi. It’s something else." Okina moved past him and walked inside the Aoiya, gesturing for him to follow. Curious, Aoshi did so, wondering what he wanted to discuss, if not about Misao’s surprise celebration. For a few minutes, the two men were silent before the elder man asked, "Do you remember Miharu’s funeral?"

The question was unexpected. He had not thought of the Founder’s daughter nor had the Oniwabanshuu spoken her name in years. Even though Misao served as a constant reminder, with those blue eyes and sunny face. What would bring up her memory now? "Yes, I remember. It rained for nearly two days after and Misao cried for almost the entire time. Why?"

"Do you recall the events that led up to the funeral and Miharu’s death?"

Why all the questions? Of course, he remembered all that, and more. He had been ten years old at the time, certainly more than old enough to have an accurate memory. "Okina, what is it?"

"Let me ask one more question. Do you remember the guests we had at the funeral?"

The guests? What guests—? Aoshi came to a halt as his mind provided the answer. Of course. The two strangers who had remained silent in back of the room for the entire service. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "What do the ninja from Kouga want?"

Okina sighed. "Aoshi, if you remember the events that led up to Miharu’s funeral, you already know the answer. " He stopped in front of a room. "And if not, then the person inside can inform you."

What? Aoshi placed a hand on the shoji and began to slide it open with a rasp of paper on wood. Then he stopped as he realized what Okina was talking about. "They’ve come?"

He bowed his head. "Go inside and receive our visitor."

Aoshi nodded and stepped inside the room. An old man – near Okina’s age – knelt in the center of the room, waiting for him. He studied the face, remembering a younger version from his memory. The years had not been kind. "I was told you wanted to see me."

The visitor raised his head and gazed at him with a furrowed brow. "You’re not—" He cut himself off in mid-sentence. "But of course, the Okashira I knew would be long dead by now. I take it you are his successor. I don’t remember ever seeing you before." No, he would not. A ten-year-old boy was not worth his notice although the man should have remembered.

"Aa," he replied as he knelt in front of the man. "Why are you here? This is a long way to travel for a ninja from Kouga."

"So you already know who I am." The old man bowed in supplication, his forehead nearly touching the floor. He wasted no time and said, "I, Saizyo Yorihisa, have come to request your aid and for you to fulfill the promise made by your honorable predecessor nearly two decades ago."

Aoshi stilled.

"We have come to claim our blood debt."

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Next ~ Part 2: The Debt

aa: yes
ano: filler word; similar to "um"
arigatou: thank you
demo: but
genkan: foyer
gomen: sorry
hai: yes
iie: no
itai: ouch
mofuku: mourning clothes, which are traditionally white
mou: an expression of exasperation, typically used by women
okaerinasai: Welcome home
shoji: door
shoko: incense offering used at funerals
tadaima: I’m home
tatami: tightly woven straw mat used in traditional Japanese style rooms

Author’s Notes (V-chan)

1) Many thanks to April for answering my silly question and being a pre-reader. ^__^

2) I usually just throw together syllables and sounds to make names, hoping they sound pretty. ^^; But in the case of Misao's mother, I wanted her name to have a special meaning so Miharu is written with the kanji for "beauty" and "sunny days."

3) For a useless cultural note: The shrine to the deceased is covered with paper to prevent the "taint of death" from spreading to the rest of the house.