No man is an island.

            Every heart needs another to heal. It makes you a human being, a person.

So tell me…what makes you think you're any different?

  Mischievous streams of autumn dawn inched their way into the room until they found a sleeping body, asleep and content with her dreams. Her long, black tresses caught the light and played with it, the sunlight turning them form black into a deep, dark brown that rippled as the sleeper tried in vain to bury her head into the pillow. Resigned to her fate, she yawned and stretched like a cat, wincing as her bare skin met the icy floor.

   "And I was having such a fantastic dream," Makamachi Misao whispered to herself as she vent down to fold put her bed away. Her fingers smoothed the soft plush of her blankets, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. It seemed cruel, to force her to come back from a paradise.

  In a world where Aoshi Shinomori talked to her, smiled at her, laughed with her…kissed her… Her golden tanned cheeks stained pink as she shoved her bedding into the corner.

   They were only dreams after all, ne?

 In reality, her situation with her beloved Aoshi-sama was getting worse every second. Instead of feeling like his equal, his Okashira even, she was beginning to suspect she was more like his maid, bringing his blasted tea every day without a thank you. She picked up her brush and started to brush at her knee length hair, the strokes getting more violent the more she thought about it. Damn it, she deserved something better, didn't she?

  "But I'm too stupid to want something better. Too stubborn," she snapped, flinching as her comb caught a tangle, bright blue eyes stinging with tears at the pain.

  Yesterday, when she had brought him his tea, she had thought, just for a moment, that she had seen something in his eyes. For a brief moment, she had let herself hope. And then he had ruined it.

            She sniffed back tears determinedly. He ruined everything.

   "Get out, Misao."

        She blinked, not registering his words. "I beg your pardon, Aoshi-sama?"

"I said, get out."

     She bristled with hurt and indignation. "Aoshi-sama, are you all right?"

"Did you hear me? Are you deaf? I said GET OUT!"

 "Well," she smiled grimly. "At least that was the first time I've been able to get anything out of him since he came home."

     Throwing open her closet, she tried to smile. Hell, she was young; she was pretty, wasn't she? And most of all, she was single, she thought. Not that that didn't come with a twinge in the heart, but it was fact. Okon was right. It was time for a change.

   Viewing her old kimonos with a critical eye, she brushed them aside and nearly purred with delight when she came across the blood red silk that she had splurged on the month before. Slipping it on, she sighed in pure feminine satisfaction. Scarlet silk molded to her like a second skin, deceptively moderately cut, hiding skin, but hinting at subtle curves and a slight waist. She moved to tie her hair, but after a slight hesitation, left it down. It billowed around her shoulders, down her back like an ebony waterfall. Critiquing her reflection in the cold glass, she tried to smile. Found she couldn't, and lowered her eyes.

            "I do not need him, that big oaf. If Makamachi Misao needs anyone…"

    She couldn't figure out how to end that sentence. She did not need anyone, she reminded herself. No one at all.

    Muttering an oath, furious about hoe those words had left her feeling so… empty; she looked up in the mirror, picking up her brush. The reflection stunned her for just a moment.

    Opening her mouth to scream, his hand came swiftly down to cover her mouth. Recognizing the sweet smell of chloroform, she struggled, lashing out, but the surprise had her breathing in automatically. Her kunai were too far away, her limbs too heavy to move. Dimly, she heard something crash against the floor, a slight oath following it. Struggling vainly against the numbness overtaking her limbs, she cried out. Her brush dropped and shattered on the wooden floor.

  Makamachi Misao soon followed, the darkness triumphantly coming to claim its prize.

                        =Aoshi…=

      And miles away, a cup fell from his hand and shattered against the temple floor, its contents spilling blood over the cold stone.

*peeks out from behind a corner* Uhm...hi? I just had this idea for a while, and wanted to do something about it before it left me. I know that I haven't really made any progress on I'll Give You Forever or Black Heart, but I will soon! Well, I might…seeing as I've only gotten about three reviews for black heart. One really nice email from a fan meant a lot to me. You know who you are. If I continue with black heart it would really be due in a large part to you. Thank you.

            Until Next Time!

                        ciao