Rainbows in the Water
III
She was warm, perfectly inviting. He curled into her, trying to wrap himself in her, but she was simply too little. He was forced to settle having her cuddled against him, completely enveloped.
Wandering, he'd gone through both fair and rainy weather, stopping and staring at this or that. He'd sat on riverbanks and dropped stones into the water, listening to the wet plunking sounds. Sitting there, he'd recalled times when he'd spent days watching Misao play and splash in streams and puddles.
Leaned back against trees to hide beneath their broad canopies from the rain, he'd remembered training in the old days. He'd remembered bonfires and great gatherings in the courtyards. He remembered watching Misao dance with the women outside, her face happy and bright.
Trembling in the cold after dipping himself in a lake to wash, he'd plucked leeches from his toes and thought of gently smiling faces. He'd thought of his joy of cooking and painting and listening to the others have quiet conversations.
He felt like a nomad. Completely invisible, desired but not wanted, not loved. Not treasured for anything more than a pretty face or his sword skill.
Only one person in his life had ever made him feel he was more than a quality, that he was more than something to be used, a decorative piece with a deadly edge. It was Misao alone who had seen more in him than anyone else. It was she who had invested her hopes in him; it was her who seeded his heart with her love. For the longest time it had remained there, that tiny seed of hope, repressed into the darkest regions, remaining dormant.
It was only a dusty path turned muddy by rain and a journey to nowhere that finally seemed to crack the walled shell he'd encased himself within. Standing alone on a bridge, staring into shimmering waters he'd seen his reflection and frowned at it.
He'd stared into haunted eyes he barely recognized as his own and a grim pale face… and yet she loved him still?
She could still look into him and see something, when he himself saw little.
He didn't want to see it anymore. He didn't want to feel empty and useless to the world. He knew of only one way to assuage it, one way to ease his burdens and only Misao could do it, because only Misao had ever wanted to.
She would never know, never understand the depths to which he cherished her, had always cherished her. It was visions of Misao, though forbidden as he made them, that gave him something to smile about when the others had slept or he sat alone, pretending to read or simply staring away into nothingness. It was Misao, who came running to him with open arms and open smiles that made him happy, that lit a small fire in him.
He wanted that.
He wanted it back; he wanted to be warmed by something, by someone.
He wanted to start and explore a mature relationship, something he'd never done before. He wanted to marry; he wanted to know her, all of her against him. He wanted to know how she felt against him and how he'd feel within her. He wanted to watch her little frame grow big with a baby, he wanted it so much.
He wanted to live.
He wanted to share it with her…
Against him, she stirred. Her breath was hot against his chest, a wisp of air. He leaned down, tilting her little face up. She was so tiny against him, so small…
He adored, above all things, how small she was against him. She made him feel like he was good enough to protect her, to love her when he wasn't always sure.
The skin of her face was soft against his callused fingertips. There were bindings across her chest and a slip of something about her waist and he too, was not completely nude, his fundoshi guarding the parts of him he wanted to touch her. He mouthed her name, but not a sound passed his lips as he leaned close letting his mouth hover over hers.
She was angry at him for leaving her behind. Always leaving, always leaving her, the one person who more than anyone wanted him to stay.
Would she accept him now? Even after all this time?
He crossed the distance and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. She stirred further, her eyes fluttering open, focusing and then shot wide, her pupils dilating sharply.
"A--shi-sama!"
He leaned down to nuzzle his face into her neck, his breath fanning against her skin hotly. He could feel the strong pulse of her heart through her skin.
"Misao..." he murmured softly. "Can we get married?"
She reacted without delay, her arms coming up to slide around his shoulders. They huddled together in the bed, shifting their bodies about. He raised his head to press his face closer to hers, their foreheads touching.
He was a tired, broken man. He peered at her with the utmost hopelessness, his eyes betraying he'd found nothing in the world. Nothing in it but her.
He was a spirit devoid of life without the person who'd showed him his life meant something. He'd discovered he'd been missing that and now, staring into her bright, wide eyes, he felt it all the more.
The dull tugging in his head became a thundering, the repetitive sound of waves crashing destructively against delicate sandy shores.
In a move that astonished him, she didn't answer him verbally, she just cuddled him against her. Her little arms wrapped around him as though she'd just been given back her most prized possession, something she'd once thought lost forever.
He sighed and relaxed into her, his anxiety peeled away like flaking, sunburned skin.
Maybe it made no sense at all, his wandering, his revelations...
Maybe he was merely undercutting his own desires with doubt. He realized now it was something he'd always done. He'd constantly denied himself his own happiness; he'd sabotaged his life and even now, in her arms, misgivings were setting in.
It was midday before she woke. The sun was streaming brightly into her room announcing the rain had gone. Abruptly, she realized she was late and just as quickly she grasped that she wasn't alone in her bed. She stared, blinking sleep fuzzy eyes at the man in the bed with her. She was awed in amazement at how much of his skin she could feel against her body and how he seemed to be so… cozy … around her.
He seemed so comfortable, so… at peace.
He was beautiful, she thought.
She was staring at the face of a man she hadn't seen since she was a child…
What was going on?
Where was the angst tortured man who had returned to the Aoiya and then abandoned her again? Who was this person who looked like Aoshi-sama beside her?
When had he even gotten here, she wondered. The previous day was a blur in her mind, one slow moving train to nowhere. She remembered moping around and getting wet and going to bed.
Wait, hadn't Okon come to her room in the morning hours?
No…
Wait, had she?
No… she would've heard her…
And yet… Okon wouldn't forget… So…
Did Okon see her in bed with Aoshi-sama?
Misao felt her face flush at the implications of what Okon may have seen and inferred from the situation.
He still slumbered on beside her. She reached up as much as she could and shook his frame by grabbing his shoulder and shoving. He shifted and his eyes fluttered open and she knew one thing immediately.
He hadn't been sleeping.
She didn't even know where to start. Her mouth sort of half gaped as she thought about it… where was the correct place to begin?
"Misao… Can we get married?"
His voice was like a tiny squeak without the high pitch. It was a small, weird sound from his mouth. Why was he talking so…? Was he sick!
"Aoshi-sama, are you okay? Did you get a cold in the rain yesterday?" She moved, but his arms were around her and kept her from moving to leave the bed. "You could be deleterious with fever!"
He curled his fingers around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest and she froze against him, his warmth pooling over her. He was so big and heavy and … he smelled so good. She took a deep, slow breath.
Was he sick? He wasn't… was he?
Her fantasy was coming true right before her very eyes and she felt like she was hallucinating it all.
"I no longer wish to be an instrument of war or death or deception."
She lifted her head up, trying to see his face and he rolled her beneath him. He kneeled over her, his knees spread. The blanket gaped between their bodies. She gaped at being able to see so much of him, his skin so open to her. Self-consciously she drew her arms up over her barely covered chest feeling awkward, but he showed no discomfort.
"I want you to end this, Misao."
Her eyes widened. "End… what, exactly?" She was too afraid of his tone and the haunted painful look in his eyes to react any other way. She was caught between a hot flush and cold chills of fear.
"The Oniwanbanshuu." She gasped, startled and opened her mouth to object, but he continued. "I want to be a man of peace now. The war is over, this group is a relic."
"It's not a relic!" she snapped, but her voice lacked the conviction it should've had. She could barely breathe with him so close and… His hands were so near to her shoulders and…
He leaned down; she could see the movement of his muscles beneath his skin. It was slow and steady as he lowered himself, the weight of his body being held upon his forearms. She trembled unsure what she was feeling, was she afraid or was this something else?
"I'm tired now. I want you dedicated to me only, I won't share. Not you, not with the Oniwabanshuu. Take me… please… Now."
"Wha? Take you, what? What do you mean now ?" She reeled in confusion as he jumped from one sentence to another. He wanted her to get rid of the Oniwabanshuu because he wanted her for himself?
Since when?
She almost kicked herself, since when did that matter? If he wanted her, he wanted her and that was that…
But there was that pleading in the 'please', as if he feared rejection from her. She'd never turn him away, not for anything, but was he saying to choose between him and the Oniwabanshuu?
Could she make that kind of choice?
And what did "take me" mean? Was that another way of saying "pick me"? She didn't know!
"Misao…"
She blinked herself out of her thoughts as his voice registered again. What now?
"Now…" he repeated softly.
"Now, what? And if I say yes to that does that mean-"
He shook his head slightly, silencing her. "Details later, say yes."
"Yes," she repeated dutifully.
She just managed to slip the words past her lips before he crushed them with his own. She thought her heart would beat straight out of her chest. Heat poured along her skin, flushing her whole body.
From the door, there came a tapping. "My little Misao-channn, it is lunch time!" Okina sang from the doorway.
Aoshi broke his lips from hers immediately. He slammed his palm hard against the floor boards, glaring toward the doorway.
"She's busy!" he snarled, loudly, like a rabid dog snapping its teeth.
There was no response from the other side of the door as the old man, presumably, retreated.
Misao stared at him in astonishment.
"Aoshi-sama, are you sure you're okay?" Her lips felt swollen and her chest felt like it was heaving, her breathing labored.
There was nothing wrong with him. She didn't want or need his answer; she wanted only something to say to break the weird silence.
It proved unnecessary.
Staring up at him, she discovered she wanted more of him. He turned his attention back to her, and if the look on his face was any indication, he intended to give her more.
Okina nodded gravely. "I understand."
Misao frowned at him. "Are you sure? No, we…" she sighed heavily and stood up. "I'm going to bed."
"Of course, sleep well Misao," Okina replied, his voice sedate.
Her words still rung in the air. "I want the Oniwabanshuu spy networks disabled. Close our offices."
He watched her go and heard her light footsteps as she went up the stairs.
So Aoshi had done it after all, the old man thought, a faint smile coming to his lips.
The Aoiya was suffering, it was burdened. With the establishment and success of the new government so far along there had been little need for their organization. Work for the spies was hard to come by and they were all suffering. The Aoiya survived by its business, but the other cover businesses were not flourishing. Even the Aoiya did not do as well as it could.
It was a pure miracle that Aoshi had walked back through their doors. He had been beyond distraught over how to handle Misao, especially with her recent behavior. He had been jumping through hoops to keep the information from her, worried it would only further upset her.
His astonishment had been further compounded by Aoshi's coming through the door soaked through.
"Where is Misao?"
Okina stared up at Aoshi in amazement. Water dripped from his frame, his hair was plastered to his head.
"Eh… she's out. Taking a walk…" Okina replied evasively.
"In the rain?"
Okina nodded and tugged on his beard. "That she is. It's been a … rough day for her."
Aoshi stood there several long moments in silence just staring at Okina as though he believed the man was lying to him. "I wish to marry her, do you object?"
M-marry her?
The old man's mouth almost fell open at the abrupt nature of the request. "Well, no… I… by all means, but Aoshi… I think we should speak before you approach her on that."
"You do object then?" the younger man asked, his voice edged.
"No, this is quite another matter. Misao has been… distant over the past few days. Things are going badly for us, the Oniwabanshuu spy groups. We're all fraying at our edges, losing members and money. It's time we shut down, we cannot survive this way. Supporting the other branches is killing the Aoiya."
"Misao doesn't know?"
Okina shook his head. "She has been far too upset to speak with, especially about something that will disturb her so much."
"You wish me to ask her then?"
Okina nodded. "There is nothing I will be able to say to convince her that this is right. The last time I said so she declared herself Okashira to save us, but we just cannot continue anymore."
Aoshi took a deep breath, sighing heavily. "You doubt her maturity that much?"
Okina turned away. "It is not a matter of her maturity. This is her home and life, she is attached to so deeply I fear she may not see past her rationalizations. Misao is an optimist at heart, I believe she will try to make it work, will insist upon it, and I have tried. We can do nothing. Convince her, Aoshi."
Without answering, the younger turned toward the door and disappeared into the rain.
How the man had managed it, Okina wouldn't wonder. His worries were rapidly vanishing as all his problems seemed to click into place with their solutions. The Aoiya, and Misao were his two top priorities and it seemed they would be fine.
He smiled.
His little girl was getting married.
Misao was confused and displeased and thrilled all at the same time.
"Can we get married?"
Could they get married?
Yes!
They absolutely could.
But why?
Maybe she shouldn't question it? Wasn't there an expression about questioning fortune? She couldn't recall it off-hand and so didn't trouble herself further over it.
But truly, what would she do about him?
Fortune.
Fate.
Did she believe in such things?
Good fortune, certainly.
Fate? That she was never certain of.
She slid her door open and stepped inside. Aoshi remained on the floor, laid out in her futon. His head was back, his face toward the ceiling. He breathed deep and even, but she didn't assume he was asleep. In response, he turned his head in her direction, turning his one ear toward the floor.
"It went well?"
She nodded. "I guess so. He took it okay."
She felt her cheeks flush as she recalled how much of his skin she'd seen and felt and … tasted.
She averted her eyes. What was she going to do about this?
"I want to marry soon."
She felt herself nodding in reply. He motioned her toward the bed and she crawled in discarding nothing except her slippers. His arms closed around her and she felt her own nervous trembles shake her all the way down to her fingertips.
"Okay," she murmured. "Is it all right to get married? Are you sure?"
The arms folded about her closed in tight, pulling her down against him, atop him. She felt awkward laying on him, feeling his naked body beneath her clothes and she flushed deeper recalling just how much more about that body she know knew.
He pressed his mouth against her neck and breathed in softly, his eyes falling closed. "There's nothing else," he murmured.
"Nothing else?" She was confused and afraid to press forward, fearful of asking for more. What if it was just some beautiful dream? What if she was misunderstanding and to completely understand would upset her? Did she want to know everything?
He shifted beneath her and she suddenly found herself flipped back against the futon and him leaning over her. She gasped as he knelt between her knees. Despite herself, her eyes flickered down his body and then darted back up. He didn't show any indication of either noticing or minding that she was eyeing his nakedness.
"I brought something for you from my trip," he stated, but showed no indication that he intended to give it to her right then. He remained leaning over her, staring down at her intently, like he was waiting.
"Oh? What did you bring?" she asked, more to get him to move off of her rather than excitement over the gift. He was staring so keenly and it was more than a little distracting for him to be leaning over her so… seductively.
He was just all … there.
"C-can I see it?" she ventured, beginning to feel jittery.
He shifted back and she was more than a little relieved when he pulled on his pants. He moved toward the door and she sighed, waving a hand in front of her face to cool her flamed cheeks. She hoped this feeling went away, it was… weird and somewhat thrilling and it made her nervous.
He fiddled with something near the doorway for several minutes before returning to her. In his hands was a rolled sheet of parchment, a strip of cloth tied about the center. It looked like a piece of ripped fabric, she thought absently as she sat up. He handed it to her and then sat down on the bedding beside her.
She pulled the ties on the bow and discarded the fabric strip. She slowly unrolled it holding onto the top of the paper. The colors were light. The scene was of a long, empty, worn road, a mountain was in the far distance, and a river alongside the far left edge…
There was also a girl with a braid…
Everywhere…
The girl was…
The girl was everywhere.
Small figures decorated the painting; figures she could only guess were herself judging by the hair and clothes. Sitting along the river side, walking ahead far away in the distance, standing against a tree, high up upon the mountain ledge… She was everywhere in this picture.
"There's nothing else," he'd said. Was this … his trip? Had he… seen nothing but her?
Could that be possible or was she making something far more significant than was meant with this simple gift?
"I don't understand," she murmured, keeping her eyes glued to the picture.
What was the message here?
Did she understand?
Did this mean then, he had gone searching for something amazing, something world-shaking and instead found all he … all …. All what? She frowned as she stared.
Had he been seeking something to bring him peace and instead had been tormented with guilt over her? Leaving her or something? Or was this, too, the wrong angle?
"There's a lot of paths a man can take," he began to speak. His voice was a low, rumbling timbre that had a rolling ease to it. That was the best way to describe the sound. "When every path ends with a vision from something behind you, then you're going the wrong way."
She was overcome.
It started somewhere deep within and just popped, exploding outward before she'd even realized she'd held it in for so long. Hope realized, love acknowledged, something… she didn't even care what it was…
Tears brimmed and pooled and fell over, warming her eyes and her cheeks. A gentle chime of laughter escaped her lips, a smile curving her mouth. The painting was dropped at the wayside when she awkwardly threw herself into his arms. Their bodies bumped together, chest against chest, the impact jarring but satisfying.
It was the good, solid touch of reality instead of the soft, wisps of fantasy.
"You're right, Aoshi-sama! Let's get married now!" Giddiness overcame her and her laughter spilled over, lighting the dim room with happiness.
He didn't verbally respond to the comment; instead, he twisted them back down to lie in the bed, her beneath him. She thought she saw him smile, but it could've been her imagination. She didn't care.
He didn't have to say anything at all.
She knew.
He was home and now that he was here, she could be home too.
No more would she need to allow her heart to fly away and leave her.
From this point forward, she would only see rainbows in the water.
The End
AN: Ah ha! DONE! insert maniacal laughter
Thank you, I hope you're not disappointed I kind of was with it, but I'm glad its done and over with.