Disclaimer: RK belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki. "Save the Best for Last" was written/composed by Waldman, Lind, Galdston; and was sung by Vanessa Williams.

For Kireihime,

my beloved oneesama.

Save the Best for Last: a songfic

Sometimes, the very thing you're looking for

is the one thing you can't see.

She stood outside with her umbrella, calmed by the steady pitter-patter of raindrops against everything in the forest. A fine mist hung loosely around her, surrounding her in its cool humidity. She walked, occasionally hopping over puddles on the muddied dirt road. Once or twice she nearly lost her balance but thank kami she never fell. She hummed a small, indistinct tune, twirling the end of her braid in one hand as the other held the umbrella as well as an extra, closed one.

She had taken to delivering him his umbrella every time it rained unexpectedly. It has been a common occurrence, unexpected rains during the odd summer. He, Aoshi, would always insist that it wouldn't rain that day, and that it was unnecessary for him to bring an umbrella in the stifling heat.. which to his mistake, it would. She, Misao, would then have to run to the temple to deliver to him his umbrella so he wouldn't have to walk home in the rain and catch a cold.

She had also taken to walking the more scenic route towards the temple. If she were to go out every other day to send him his umbrella, she may as well enjoy herself. As eager as she was to see him, she knew he wouldn't go anywhere unless he told her beforehand. They had both fallen into a comfortable monotony in a short period of time where he would go to the temple and meditate, and she would bring him his tea (and now, umbrella). There were some instances where he would accompany her to the market for an errand when things were busy at the Aoiya, and there were some times when he would oversee her training in the dojo.

Other than that, her life was pretty tame.

She could almost say it was boring.

She emerged from the dirt path onto a stone-laid walkway, arriving at her destination. There, he stood by the temple entrance, watching her approach him. As blasphemous as it may be, she thought he looked like a god.

Sometimes, the snow comes down in June

Sometimes, the sun goes 'round the moon

Many would say outright that her situation was a lost cause, that it was like screaming at the howling wind. A few even dared to dissuade her from her 'pursuit' of him, and a daring few made fun of her. The few who knew of Aoshi's reputation wondered about her sanity and well-being.

"What kind of woman would stand by a tainted man?" they would say in hushed tones as they gossiped about her in her adoptive family's own restaurant, "Surely she should fear him and run for the hills like everybody else..!"

They didn't understand...

She wasn't pursuing him, she was merely loving him.. every little thing about him. She didn't care for his insatiable bloodlust in his troublesome past. She knew, of course. How could anyone not know of the infamous Oniwabanshuu turncoat? Yet she found herself loving him even more for it. There was something in the reason for all his actions that she understood, and she knew if she were in his position that she would do the same thing.

She reached the bottom of the stone steps and stopped, just looking up at him.

He had his arms neatly folded over his stomach, and his feet planted firmly apart. He was alert, yet relaxed. His cool, calculating blue eyes were trained on her approaching form. She loved how those eyes seemed to just be for her.

Boy, did she love the sight of him then...

Godlike.

'Cause there was a time when all I did was wish

You'd tell me this was love.

It's not the way I hoped, or how I planned

But somehow it's enough.

She watched in a daze as he came walking down the steps towards her. She was enthralled by the slightest bit of him; the slightest swish of his yukata's hem, the slightest sway of his dark hair, the slightest twitch of muscle.. But there was nothing slight in the way he looked at her. She knew that when he looked at her, he looked at her fully, intensely. Aoshi looking at her made her feel rooted, he made her feel alive. When he looked at her, she felt real, that she was there.

It made her feel as if she existed for him.

Oh the fantasies her mind would cook up then! A sideways glance here, a lingering look there.. she imagined an array of inner meanings whenever his eyes came her way. She couldn't help but wish for something to happen. After all, Misao was human; and Misao being Misao, her patience can only go so far. Even for her Aoshi-sama.

But Aoshi was also Aoshi. Aoshi being a man of minute gestures, anyone could hardly expect a thing from him.

Knowing this, Misao continues to wait, content that Aoshi acknowledges her presence and doesn't shun or refuse her.

And now, we're standing face to face

Isn't this world a crazy place?

"Misao."

She realized a little too late that he had been standing in front of her. The rain continued to pour. She blinked many times, as if trying to waft away the daze with her lashes. She watched, with considerable horror, that Aoshi was beginning to get soaked. Droplets of water trapped themselves in his tresses, some ribboned down the sides of his face, some darkened the cloth draped over his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Aoshi-sama!" she cries softly, one hand offering him the big umbrella she had, adjusting it to include him in its shelter and her out of it as she fumbled with the smaller one in her other hand. She could feel her face warming up. How could she have drifted off like that, and in front of him? What will he think of her now after seeing her so obviously mooning over him? He'd probably think her a woman gone dull and slow from the lack of anything happening the past few months. Good going, Misao.

She felt a hand clasp over hers just as she worked open the smaller umbrella. Turning, she found him looking at her silently in that way of his that made her stop in her tracks.

Somehow the rain made his eyes even bluer or were they more grey than blue? Maybe it was the grayness of everything that made them stand out.

She was a maiden enthralled by a god.

Just when I thought our chance had passed...

The warmth of his hand over hers crept up to her cheeks in a rosy flush. The circumstances would have given her imagination a run for the hills had her mind been working properly. Her belly flopped with butterflies when she felt him give a gentle squeeze. Oh those eyes! She needed to snap out of it.

"A-Aoshi-sama..." She tried to move away, but her efforts were met with difficulty. Firstly, she never wanted to move away in the first place and it required her almost all of her willpower to even try. Secondly, Aoshi himself pulled the umbrella closer to him, canceling out her move for the opposite direction. Her hand was trapped between the umbrella handle and his hand after all.

"It seems I was wrong again today," he said monotonously as if nothing was amiss, "I really should learn to trust your instincts, Misao."

All the woman could hear were the rapid beatings of her heart. It seemed to go along with the rhythm of the rain. Maybe it was the other way around. Maybe the rain was an accompaniment to the orchestrations of her life, of the lives of people. Maybe the rain toned things down in everything like it does to the surroundings, yet at the same time making things thrive. Maybe it also toned down some things in the soul, bringing out what was hidden in day-to-day goings on.

He gently pried her hand away from the umbrella's handle, tucking it in against his arm. She felt the contraction of muscle, the warmth of flesh underneath the time-worn clothing. "The rain isn't as heavy as it was on the other days, shall we take the long route this time?" he asked.

She couldn't trust herself to talk, but wordlessly nodded as he led her down the walkway, back to the forest where she had previously emerged. The forest seemed more alive that day, its colors brighter, its inhabitants humbled by the extra humidity. It was almost enchanting.

"You should bring just one umbrella next time, Misao."

You went and saved the best for last.

Owari.

Notes: I'd do anything for my oneesama, whose writings continue to inspire me to tears. I hope I did something good. I hope I didn't spoil anyone's day. I'd appreciate criticism, constructive or biting. Thank you for reading!