Author’s Note: La la la la la la la la....... ::jimmy eat world is in my head dangit::
Oh and the actual title to this chapter is ‘Kasou’, but it’s a word I believe Hyde pretty much made up by replacing the character of fire for flower, so it means like ‘consumed by flowers’ or ‘buried in flowers’, or like ‘flower burial’.
Sigh, oh that Hyde.
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Chapter 4: Buried in Flowers
‘my beloved one, you just gently turn cold,
in these arms as you are broken
listen. The abyss of dreams is calling
like always’
The stifling heat had yet to release the city from its sweltering grasp, and more and more the streets were less crowded and people were seeking to cool off at lakes or streams or rivers. There was talk of a possible drought if the heat kept up.
“Hey Shiro-kun, think business will pick up after this weather gets better?” Omasu asked, as the two were cleaning dishes in the Aoiya kitchen.
“Maybe. People are just more content to stay indoors and fan themselves then come out and eat. I really hope this heat lets up or business will get bad and then Okina-san will get depressed and go through the sake.”
Omasu sighed.
“And how did we get trapped to kitchen duty today? I was sure it was Okon and Kuro-kun’s turn.”
“Okina asked them to go get more produce for the restaurant since Kuro can carry a lot of boxes back and Okon-san has a way with getting prices lowered.”
Omasu snorted.
“It’s because she shamelessly flirts with the vendors. Really, as dedicated as she is to Hiko-sama, she’ll still shake her hips to get her will done.”
“Maybe. I never think of Okon-san in those terms really. She’s too sisterly.” Shiro said, scratching at his dark blonde hair.
Omasu shifted closer.
“And what about me, Shiro-kun?”
Shiro blinked, a blush forming on his cheeks.
“I...uh...Misao-chan!”
Omasu looked to the doorway to see Misao standing there with a small smile on her face.
“A smile? Misao-chan, are you feeling better?” Omasu asked.
Misao shrugged and walked to the pantry to rummage through it.
“Well, I can’t wallow forever at my unfortunately fate. Why make myself more miserable? It’ll probably just make that man more pleased, and pleasing Aoshi-sama is the last thing I want to do.”
Omasu blinked.
“I guess habits die hard.”
Misao arched an eyebrow.
“Howso?”
“You just referred to him as ‘Aoshi-sama’, just like when you were a child.”
Omasu and Shiro watched Misao frown and return to rummaging through the pantry. Obviously Misao was not pleased with that comment. She had been fighting hard, doing everything possible to be as little compliant as she could, ignoring Aoshi when she could. They had all noticed the terse expression that passed over her features when he arrived at the dinner table, and the silence that seemed to rob them of speech.
They were still angry at Aoshi for what he had done. Okina seemed more tolerant, more willing to accept Aoshi. Perhaps it had been the words Aoshi spoke to Okina in private. Maybe Okina knew something they didn’t. Perhaps Okina had more faith in the former ward of the Okashira and Oniwabanshuu.
Okon, Omasu, Shiro, and Kuro were not sure.
Omasu murmured to Shiro that they should leave Misao alone for a bit, so they slipped out of the kitchen.
The past week had been a battle of wills between Aoshi and Misao, and they could only watch and standby. One was the former Okashira now again Okashira. The other was Misao, who they had all helped raise, who took leadership when the Oniwabanshuu needed a leader, and now was cast out from all Oniwabanshuu business.
As soon as he returned his title, Aoshi made a decree that Misao was indefinitely to be bar of all Oniwbanshuu business. She had been shocked and angered.
Not only to be cast from the leading position...but to be cast from all Oniwabanshuu activity all together.
It was more than a slap in the face. It was denying her access to the life she had always known. She was, whether they liked it or not, a child of the Oniwabanshuu, had grown in the life of a ninja clan, and she thrived on it.
Her pride as a ninja and Oniwabanshuu was apparent always.
And this...
Aoshi knew how to delivery crippling blows quite well, it seemed, on and off the battlefield.
Misao didn’t notice the two slip out, too lost in her thoughts. She was still angry at Aoshi’s decision. The gall of man made her blood boil. She felt like he managed to slice her heart more with mere words.
He was a lethal man indeed, in actions and words. It had to be revenge, she decided.
This was him punishing her more for taking the title of Okashira.
First he returns and forces her to marry him.
Then he takes back the title.
And then goes a step further and removes her from all Oniwabanshuu activity.
The bastard. The heartless bastard.
Megumi thought he might have a heart?
If so, then it was buried beneath layer after layer of the coldest ice.
He was more demon than man she felt.
And she was this devil’s bride.
She rummaged for more powdered tea, a special blend she enjoyed that she had recieved from Kaoru on her wedding day.
One more week...and then Megumi’s drug would be gone. And then...she would have to fend for herself.
Even drugged, Aoshi made little attempt to take her, moreso he just quietly accepted tea and glared out the window. Perhaps his fascination with attempting to seduce her had faded to bitter indifference.
She wasn’t blind. She knew he was still angry with her. She didn’t care. His indifference was better than his seeming lust.
She could, much to her chagrin, remember his hands on her face. The pressure of his lips. She loathed it. Loathed that she couldn’t forget, loathed that for all displeasing feelings they held that she had...enjoyed it a bit.
Part of her wished she could remember him from her youth, despite her resilience it was getting tiring, the emotional toll the events were taking on her. Maybe if she could remember, maybe it would be easier.
Or worse. If she remember the Aoshi she supposedly adored, would it not be more heartbreaking what he was doing now?
Sleeping next to him every night...she didn’t sleep much the first couple nights. It was only when she was assured he wasn’t going to move that she could rest. It was difficult, the warm body next to hers.
Sometimes in sleep she would shift and draw close to him, and wake up appalled. She would rise and go about her business, leaving him to wake up alone.
One more week.
All she could do was wait and see.
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Aoshi was all too aware of the awkward heaviness of his limbs as he finished training in the dojo. He had been slower lately and it was puzzling. He wasn’t sick, even though he was oddly enough sleeping soundly through the night and late into the morning. That was off itself, for he seldom slept well anymore, and always awoke shortly after sunrise.
Perhaps it was everything going on. Perhaps even he was inescapable to wariness.
And yet still....
Something wasn’t quite right.
He wiped his forehead and sheathed his kodachi, walking to grab his gi top which he had removed before training. Clad in only his black pants, he took his belongings and left the dojo.
As he passed through the door he almost collided with Misao.
He looked down at her, noticing she was in her Oniwabanshuu uniform of gi and shorts. His eyebrows drew together.
She looked up at him, disdain in her expression.
“What are you doing, Misao?”
“You may have cut me off, temporarily, from the life I’ve known, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still train. If you would please get out of my way.”
He didn’t move. Her frown grew.
“You are just hellbent at making my life completely miserable, aren’t you?” she whispered, her gaze casting downward.
Aoshi sighed, feeling even more wary.
He reached for her, a hand on the top of her head, one on her shoulder.
“Perhaps one day you will realize this was for the best.”
He murmured, and then he was walking away.
Misao stood there, still.
For the best...
He sounded so...exasperated.
For a brief moment she wondered if she was wrong about him. For a brief moment she wondered if there was something more to his motivations.
And then the brief moment passed, and she was still angry.
How was any of this for the best?!
She hated that she didn’t push him away just then, that she couldn’t help but smell his scent and feel the warmth of his hands, feel the rumbling of his voice.
Her mind may have been set on shutting him out, but her body, her traitorous body, seemed more willing to accommodate.
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He was, to say the least, surprised as he looked over the last of the reports he had read over since morning.
He had finally decided to sit down and take stock of what Misao had done with the Oniwabanshuu and was rather surprised by what he read.
She had not ruined them, had not made childish error.
Her efforts, while clearly novice, were...
Not too bad.
She seemed to understand a lot more than he’d think, and going over mission reports were enlightening. She did not possess the ruthlessness or stoniness he had in mission orders, and there were some errs in her judgement.
Yet for the most part she had kept the clan going strong.
For such a slip of a girl without the capability of being coldhearted and cruel...she had done remarkably well even.
He had learned early on to hide his emotion and be cold. To be ruthless. Cruel. A killer.
He had served as Okashira in a time of war.
Misao had served as Okashira in a time of peace.
It was odd sitting in his old chair again. It felt different in a way and yet so nostalgic. He wondered how she would look sitting there. Like a child pretending? Serious? Had she found the position difficult?
He wondered momentarily if taking his title back had been for the best. She clearly had some competence for the position. They lived in different times now...
No. He needed this. She still had other things. Family. The Aoiya.
This.... was all he had.
This and his unwilling wife.
Setting the papers down, he got up and left his office to head for their quarters.
He figured she’d be there, preparing tea.
It was odd, that for such a disobedient wife, she always made tea for them before bed. Perhaps it had been part of her ‘wife lessons’ growing up. She had been partially trained to being a proper wife, perhaps tea was such a thing included.
He slid open the shouji, and surely enough she was there kneeling in the center of the room, a light pink yukata on as she whisked two cups of tea up. She gave him a brief side glance, then looked back at what she was doing.
He watched her for a moment and then crossed the room to sit across from her. Usually he wore a yukata around, but today wore his black pants and shirt that he had returned to Tokyo in.
Misao did not want to think about that day too much.
She offered a cup to him, watched with cloaked anxiety as he accepted it and drank. It was nerve-wracking as usual. She waited for him to finish, slowly sipping her tea. Soon enough, he was stumbling to the futon and collapsed.
Misao sighed and cleared the tea set.
One more week was all she had left.
She felt her stomach churn slightly with unease. What would happen on that night when she could no longer drug his tea she could not guess.
If he ever found out she had been drugging him...
Misao shuddered, clearing her mind from those thoughts as she blew out the candles and settled next to Aoshi on their futon, keeping a space between them as she stared up at the ceiling before falling into a fitful sleep.