Tin's Of Love And Honor

Part Seven: Straws in the Wind

   This is a Rurouni Kenshin-inspired fanfic written entirely for entertainment purposes only. Standard disclaimers apply.
   Aoshi awoke groggily, like someone coming out of a drug-induced trance. As he broke through the heavy mistiness of sleep, he thought he could discern the outline of a woman bending over to him. The image was fuzzy but he caught a glimpse of a strand of dark hair penetrating the barriers imposed by semi-consciousness. He strained to see. The features were blurred but it seemed like he was looking at... "Misao?" he whispered.
   "No, Aoshi-sama," a voice said gently. "It's me Okon."
   Aoshi blinked painfully, the nagging blow of disappointment at that response fully waking him. He shoved the feeling to the back of his mind, mentally ordering himself to forget it. He tried to sit up and groaned involuntarily when the pain from his wound raced up to his brain to explode in tormenting intensity. He gritted his teeth and shook his head at Okon's worried remonstrances. Putting his weight on his uninjured arm, he was finally able to push himself into a sitting position. Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes for a while, willing himself into a state of calm lucidity as he tried to recall what had happened. He was wounded but he rather expected himself to be-- Aoshi stopped short as the afternoon's events flashed in his mind in dizzying clarity. The man in the black suit. The katana. And--his eyes shot open wildly as panic, an emotion he rarely felt or allowed himself to feel, surged over him in waves. "Misao..." he choked.
   Okon placed her hands on his shoulders firmly but gently. She felt the tenseness of his muscles, saw the paleness of his face, and immediately guessed its source. "Misao's all right, Aoshi-sama," she said in a low murmur as she pushed him back to a lying position. "She's unhurt. Don't worry."
   Aoshi grabbed her wrist suddenly. Okon winced at his strong grip and tried to tug her wrist free. Aoshi tightened his hold. "What happened, Okon?" he muttered. "I saw the man. He was about to--What happened?!" he finished pleadingly his voice cracking despite himself.
   Okon saw the naked anguish on his face and, for a moment, was transfixed. He was obviously concerned about Misao but there was something else, too. Could it be lo--She yelped as Aoshi nearly crushed her wrist when she didn't answer. "Aoshi-sama," she said slowly as she ignored the pain on her wrist, intent on reassuring him. "Misao is fine, Aoshi-sama. She's in her room resting. She had some bruises but, otherwise, she's unhurt. She's fine," Okon repeated and decided not to tell him about Misao's wound on her arm, at least not for the moment. He just needed to know that she was safe. Okon watched relief flood his face and she could have sworn that the hand he used to brush his hair back was actually trembling. The grip on her wrist slackened. Okon tugged it out of his reach hurriedly.
   But Aoshi was still confused. "I--I don't understand," he frowned. "What-"
  : "Sayuri-san stopped the man," Okon told him, rubbing her wrist.
   Sayuri? Aoshi turned to her quickly, ignoring the spasm of pain on his shoulder. "Sayuri was there?" he asked.
   Okon nodded. "Hai, Aoshi-sama."
   "Was she hurt?" Aoshi said, his brow furrowing. He never thought that Sayuri would interfere. But she did and if something happened to her--Aoshi's eyes darkened. Sayuri didn't need that right now. She should just have stayed away...
   "No," Okon said. She stared at his pensive face and wondered at the almost--gloom which pervaded his being when she mentioned Sayuri. She felt like she was missing something here but she didn't dare ask Aoshi what. Time will sort everything out. She hoped. "She was here a while ago. Right now I think she's with Okina-sama."
   Aoshi didn't respond. Okon regarded him uncertainly and gasped when she saw that his bandage was already soaked with blood. She reached for the basin of water and remembered with dismay that she didn't bring any clean cloth. "Aoshi-sama, I'll just go down to the kitchen and..."
   There was a soft tap on the door and then it slowly slid open. Okon turned and smiled when she saw who was standing in the hallway. "Misao-chan!" she said loudly.
   Aoshi's head snapped up at that. He and Misao regarded each other silently across the width of the room. The air fairly crackled with tension.
   Okon stood up quickly and hurried over to Misao. "Um, Misao-chan, I need to go down to get some clean bandages. Why don't you stay with Aoshi-sama for a while?" She gently pushed Misao forward into the room. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She smiled brightly at Misao who was already stuttering in protest and slid the door shut. She chuckled to herself as she walked away.
   This was going to be interesting.
   There was an awkward silence.
   Misao cursed Okon silently for leaving her like this. She avoided Aoshi's gaze. Instead she stared at her feet in intense concentration and wished that she could just leave. She'd thought that he was still asleep! If only she'd taken a peek first before going in... She risked another glance at him and quickly looked away when she saw that he was still staring at her. With a sinking heart, Misao realized that she must look awful. Her hair was still unbound and the outfit she was wearing was stained with blood and grime. Her shoulder was bandaged and she had a nasty bruise on her left cheek. She glanced at Aoshi again and inwardly gasped. *He* looked terrible. His face was pale and streaked with sweat. And his arm was already dripping with blood. She saw it all too clearly, even at so brief a glance. And one look was more than enough for her. Misao turned to leave when she realized that she couldn't just walk away when the wound was--she gulped-- meant for her. It was supposed to be her injury, not Aoshi's, as Sayuri had so painfully pointed out. And yet it still was, wasn't it? The wound was physically inflicted on Aoshi but she was just as hurt as he was. Perhaps even more. Aoshi himself was her pain, her anguish, her torment. Anything which drove that agony deeper, a wound, a careless word, cold indifference, and--and Sayuri, was something she could do without and yet couldn't just deny either. She had to try and confront it too, if only to give herself solace, however fleeting. Misao clenched her fist as she turned back. She opened her mouth to speak, forced herself to say the words, "Are you--are you--in pain?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
   The words hit Aoshi more effectively than it would have had had she simply walked up to him and slapped him on the face. 'Yes' he wanted to scream at her. 'Yes, yes, yes!!! And do you know why, Misao? Will you understand?' But he knew she won't. She never did. And he couldn't ask her to. Not ever. That was something, which should have to come from her and willingly at that. And no way was that ever going to happen. Not anymore. "No," he said shortly.
   "But--but your arm..."
  : Aoshi was tempted to laugh. And to break things. And to scream the house down. But he didn't. His conditioning was too ingrained in his personality for him to do something like that. Besides he couldn't. Laughter and anger and fear and--were but a few of the things he couldn't give Misao. She told him so. He believed so. "Leave it, Misao," he told her coldly. There was a sigh from the other end of the room and he turned his head away. She would be leaving now. Again. Aoshi clenched his jaw as he fought the almost overwhelming urge to ask her to stay. Damn. The wound must have weakened him more than he thought. He heard the shuffle of bare feet against the wooden floor but they were--Aoshi froze. They were coming nearer. A moment later he felt a soft hand on his arm, the silken brush of hair against his hand, and, unwillingly, he trembled. Gods. He had to push her away. He couldn't allow himself to--to need her again. It had nearly destroyed him before. He had sought light and found it, in the presence of one whom he thought knew him so well, the only constant in his life. But just when it was beginning to warm his being, just when he'd begun to hope that he could somehow become part of it, it fled. Even goodness, it seems, has its conditions. He felt the bandage being unwrapped slowly and he gritted his teeth as he ordered himself to move away when he saw her wound. His startled gaze traced the long gash on her arm, barely hidden by the white cloth. She was hurt. His hand reached out tentatively...No. Steeling himself, Aoshi grasped her shoulder and pushed her away. Not roughly but with just enough force for her to loosen her hold on his arm. He heard her gasp in surprise. "I told you to leave it alone," he bit out with unnatural harshness.
   Apalled, Misao stared up at him. He was looking at her coldly, almost-- cynically. She shuddered involuntarily. Never before had he treated her like this. He'd ignored her at times, sure, but he had never shown anger towards her. She wondered despairingly if their relationship, or whatever it was between them, had already been ruined. Before, there had been content, substance. Now, there was only an empty shell. Systematic destruction. And at the rate of what? Every couple of hours or so? She thought about the--conversation they had right before the attack, when it seemed to her that they can still talk to each other, but even that fate now had cruelly witheld. "I was just trying to help," she murmured huskily. She felt tears sting her eyes. Gods, not again. "You didn't-you didn't have to--" She stopped abruptly. She was almost pleading him. And no damned way would she humiliate herself further. He didn't need her sympathy. Fine. Without looking at him, Misao hurriedly stood up, intent on leaving. In her haste, she didn't pay attention to the wetness of the floor. As she edged away, her feet slipped and she felt herself falling backwards. Alarmed, she tried to regain her balance but she was still too weak from her wound...
   Misao was suddenly yanked forward and she felt herself hit something hard. Dazed, she wondered what happened when her mind registered the agonizing pain on her injured arm, which felt like it was being torn away from her. She moaned. Instantly, the pressure lessened and something brushed her skin. She shivered. What the-- Her eyes widened as the realization hit her with a thud. "A-A-Aoshi-sama?!" she croaked out.
   Aoshi held her to him, his breath coming in short gasps. He groaned when she tried to pull herself free and jarred his shoulder. "Keep still," he muttered.
   For a brief second, Misao allowed herself to relax against him but the feeling instantly dissolved into horror when she felt sticky liquid drip on her elbow. Deja vu. Oh no. Slowly, she pulled away, trying not to jar his wound, and ignored the hollow pang of loss, which came over her. "I'm sorry," she said. She looked at him worriedly. She had to stop the bleeding somewhat but Okon had still not returned. She bit her lip and quickly untied her sash. It was clean, at least. Misao dipped it hurriedly in the basin of water, squeezed it loosely, and placed it gently over Aoshi's wound. "I'm sorry," she repeated.
   Aoshi slowly opened his eyes and regarded her. She was bending over him, knees tucked under her, blue eyes wide and troubled. The hand which held the cold cloth shook ever so slightly. He sighed and turned his head away. If these things kept on happening--he wondered how long his punishment would last. Forever, perhaps? But only fools go around courting retribution. Was he to be a fool forever, too? He looked at her again. "Misao, please leave."
   "Aoshi-sama..." Misao began and leaned over when her robe nearly fell open. She blushed and quickly gathered it around her. Aoshi just stared at her blankly. There was no coldness now. There was just 'nothing'. And that was something she knew for sure she couldn't handle. But-- "I couldn't just leave you like this..."
   "I can take care of myself," Aoshi said without any trace of emotion.
   "But you can't--" Misao retorted. "You'll be all alone..." Her voice trailed away when she realized that he wouldn't be alone. Not ever. His unblinking gaze answered her unspoken question. Bitterness filled her like rushing water. Of course. Sayuri. How could she have forgotten?
   "I understand," she said dully. "I'll go now." She stood up carefully. Aoshi continued to watch her. Misao walked slowly to the door and, all the time, she felt his eyes boring her back. Why? Maybe there was something he wanted to say? But there was nothing left to talk about. Just sarcastic remonstrances and cold replies. And of what use are those? Her hand tightened on her robe. "I won't bother you again, Aoshi-sama. Don't worry," she said, putting everything she had behind her words. She had told him this once before. But this time--this time, she would see to it that she kept her word. Even if it killed her. A ghost of a smile flickered on her lips as she looked at him. "You can tell that to Sayuri-san, too."
   But he had already turned away from her.
   Misao walked out.
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