Rainbows in the Water
Part 1 of 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.
Summary: When it rained, it poured. She did not enjoy summer showers or spring sprinkles… they were all sad days for her.
I
The others watched her sadly. She'd been sitting there for an hour, silently, with her head upon the table. Eyes closed.
Misao always behaved this way when it rained. She always sat down, her vitality vanishing, her happiness popped like a precarious bubble. She sat stonily, a heavy cloud over her head, a deep frown etched upon her lips.
They hadn't seen Misao so despondent in the rain since before Aoshi returned almost sixteen months ago. Even when it rained, Misao was up and bouncing around, worrying over tea or clothes or umbrellas or colds.
Always something.
But Aoshi was gone now.
He was away...
"Wandering for his spirit", he'd said. Misao had taken the news well. Better than they all expected really. She'd nodded her head without a word and saw him off with the others, never uttering a single sound. Not even a goodbye, just a half-hearted wave. Before he was even out of sight, Misao was gone. Retreated back into the depths of the Aoiya, cloistered in her room.
Totally silent.
It had been almost six months since then. Six long months.
She'd done well. Surprising everyone. No one expected after that first week she'd pick up so well again, but she had. She continued on, as though Aoshi had never returned to the Aoiya with Kenshin and then left them again.
With the notable exception she'd never once mentioned him.
It was though he'd never existed.
At least, not to her.
She still bounced around and played and worked and laughed, but the joyous exclamations, her pondering, and worrying over Aoshi had all vanished.
Gone away to where? No one knew.
The rain continued to fall, the wind kicking at the building. Misao had never liked this weather.
As a child she'd refused to sleep, always crying for her "Aoshi-sama" to hold her. Aoshi, in the short time the man had spent at the Aoiya before leaving Misao with him, had always held her in the rain.
Misao only slept when Aoshi held her as child when storms battered the Aoiya. She didn't do that anymore. She hadn't called for Aoshi to hold her since she was very young, but when ever it did rain like it was, depression seemed to set in.
She'd sit down at the table with a cup of tea she wouldn't drink and put down her head. She'd wrap up in her favorite blanket and do nothing, absolutely nothing. She'd close her eyes and bury her face in her blanket and was completely unresponsive.
It was always hardest to see her this way.
On such days of severe storms the Aoiya was closed and the others hovered about, worrying over her well-being. Some tried to talk to her, but she didn't say anything. She just ignored everyone.
No one was ever sure if she was sleeping or resting or daydreaming or what... She never said anything, and she only did it when it rained.
Omasu slipped into the room and sat down by her side.
"I'll just warm your tea for you, okay?"
Misao didn't say anything and Omasu replaced her tea with fresh, warm liquid, inviting her to drink.
Omasu stared at her. Misao's delicate head was turned to one side, her beautiful hair peeking out over the lumpy hill of her blanket by her neck and trailing down her back. Her face was calm and not scrunched in worry or apprehension.
She looked very much at peace. As though this was Misao's time for meditation, the time of year she could settle down and just "be".
Omasu sighed.
Omasu had asked Misao once, in a long sunny period during the summer time, if she disliked rainstorms. The girl's demeanor had dimmed and she smiled a sad, slow smile. A smile that gave her face such a look of age and maturity, Omasu had been startled at the sight of her.
Misao had replied, her voice a quiet, gentle tone. "Rain is nature's day of mourning. It reminds me of everything I've lost."
The specifics on what she meant about that had been lost. Omasu hadn't the time to ask as Okon returned to the kitchen with several more orders from new customers and Misao had returned to working with the eggs.
It had been quite depressing, she recalled, that placid look on her face. Omasu, feeling a distinct sense of unease in the bleak atmosphere of the room, quickly stood and left. Maybe she could clean something up in the kitchen.
Okina looked up as Omasu left, and glanced toward Misao. So quiet, so unhappy, he thought. Nothing he'd done over the years had broken this dismal cycle. Nothing at all.
He'd tried every conceivable notion that had occurred to him. Songs, parties, gifts, nothing. Not even discussions about Aoshi were welcomed or received. She simply shut off and it broke their hearts to see it.
He remembered one ill-fated afternoon. The storm had come on suddenly. He'd come across her on his way back from the front of the Aoiya in the dining room and found her at a window. Her eyes had been cast wide, staring as though seeing something that horrified her beyond the glass. He moved to her side, pressing a hand comfortingly to her shoulder.
"All right? Misao?"
She snapped her head away from the window so quickly it looked like she might have injured herself. For a moment, her eyes closed, almost misty with tears before she turned and walked quietly to her room.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she'd said.
He'd gone up after her only to find her in bed, head down, face buried, and unresponsive to queries. Discouraged, he'd left her alone, but he and the others had checked on her frequently until the storm ended.
Morning brought sunshine and Misao again returned to her 'normal self', smiling and boisterous.
They had, for the most part, written it off as the 'mystery that is Misao', but the reoccurrence since Aoshi had left some six months ago was causing increasing alarm each time it happened.
What to do?
Should anything at all be done about it?
The raging storm was rapidly dimming. The thudding on the roof becoming a soft patter as the rain lightened, eventually stopping.
The howl of the wind continued, however, gusting against the building, blowing around the mist.
He turned, surprised, when she sat up suddenly. Her eyes were tired but not red-rimmed or puffy. She hadn't been crying at all.
"I'm going for a walk."
He watched her go, unable to voice a protest. At least if she went for a walk, she wasn't moping around the Aoiya.
Misao sighed, taking one glance at her bare feet before stepping out.
A little water never hurt anyone.
Water had saturated the ground. It seemed like it had been raining forever. She picked her head up, searching the sky, but the sun was deeply hidden.
It was all so depressing.
It was days like this...she recalled.
Days like this that broke her heart. Days like this that reminded her she wasn't good enough. She wasn't enough.
It was a day like this Aoshi had left her. She remembered so vividly waking and finding Aoshi was gone and Okina's futile placation's.
That night it rained. That night it poured over the Aoiya. She spent the night rocking herself in a blanket, curled up by a window, weeping over him.
Weeping and hurting. He'd left her there. Alone, a child abandoned.
Six months past, he left her again. He'd left a note for her, but she refused to read it. She didn't need to.
She wasn't good enough a reason for him to stay.
She. The one person who loved him more than anyone in the world.
But it wasn't good enough.
He didn't want to be loved, and it hurt so much.
Nothing eased the pain. Not the screaming aches her muscles gave her when she trained too long. Not the burn of her skin when she warmed her bath water too hot. Not the hallucinations she suffered depriving herself of sleep. Not the pinching, rumbling ache of her stomach when she didn't eat enough or often enough. Not the slick feel of her own blood as she carelessly nicked her fingers with her own kunai.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
So he went off, doing what was best for himself while convincing himself it was also best for her.
That made her so angry.
So very angry.
How could he decide what was best for her? A man who had spent his life making mistakes?
She didn't love him any less for anything he'd done, except for leaving her. Twice.
Ironically enough, the night he left, it rained.
It rained and she cried, again remembering all the people in her life who weren't there anymore. She shut everyone else out, dedicating herself only to their memory.
It was all she had, but she couldn't dwell forever. She couldn't push away those who did love her and were still around. She picked her head up glancing around again.
The ground beneath her feet was cold and wet. Her feet were muddy. She could feel dirt between her toes.
She walked down the street quietly. No one was really out today. She headed down a corner alley. She couldn't stand being around others right now.
She was tired. She would probably head back to the Aoiya, crawl into bed and not get up until the next morning.
That's what she really wanted to do.
She ached. Tears seemed imminent, but never came.
There would be no crying today. Nature had done all the crying for her. It was a sentimental thought from the past. Somehow, thinking of it that way always made her smile.
She walked along the empty Kyoto streets, wandering.
Wandering.
Aoshi was wandering.
She hadn't mentioned him since he left, but he'd never strayed from her thoughts.
What was he doing out there? All alone? Was he alone? Maybe he'd found out he did want to be loved, just not by her?
She never ceased battering herself with the cruel thoughts. Over and over again she would wonder such things.
She walked to the end of the street she was traveling on and stopped and leaned back. She was wet, the building was wet. She could feel the moisture soaking through her clothes.
She sighed, staring down the vacant streets. No one seemed to come out much in the rain. She turned her gaze skyward, the blue skies were missing today, hidden behind the heavy, rain laden clouds.
It would rain again soon. It might even rain again tomorrow.
She pushed away from the wall and started back toward the Aoiya. Her feet were partially numb, she couldn't feel her toes. Her legs were cold from her mid-thighs to her ankles as were her arms. She trembled, shivering as she walked, actively trying to stop the involuntary spasms of her muscles.
She couldn't live her life always looking back. Something that had occurred to her many times.
Aoshi was part of the past now. As much as it pained her, she would have to let go. Even, she thought, when it rained.
At the same time she saw no reason for her to give up what she wanted. This was something important to her.
Maybe if she just handled it a different way, her day of mourning.
She recognized her surroundings quickly. Kyoto, a big, elegant place, was home to her. The Aoiya was only one street over from where she currently stood. She'd never get lost in Kyoto, despite the size or similarity of the streets.
She'd learned them all through the years, walking, going every which way.
She headed in that direction absently. It was silent when she reached the old inn; no one appeared to be around anywhere. She headed to her room without announcing she was back.
She padded to her room silently, her feet still wet and cold. She would get yelled at about the muddy tracks tomorrow. She slid the door open, almost without sound and sighed into the empty room. She stepped within the dim confines, sliding the door closed behind her.
Such a quiet, desolate place it seemed. Yet it was her place of comfort. Her futon was still laid out on the floor from that morning.
The sound of movement behind her didn't startle her. She turned lazily to see who had sneaked up on her. Omasu and Okon often came into her room with clean laundry, putting her things away while she was out. It wasn't unusual.
But when she turned back, there was no Okon or Omasu. There was no Jiya smiling at her. Not even Kuro or Shiro shifting awkwardly, unsure of how to word what they wanted to say, yet clearly uncomfortable being there.
No.
It wasn't them.
She stared, meeting icy colored eyes.