Author's Note: August Challenge, brought to you brand-spanking at the end of Otakon! .Literally, the con ended two hours ago and i'm sitting in my hotel listening to some Punk En Ciel (thanks to Hikaru) and decided to work on this.
Until we go for California Pizza Kitchen.
But I'll be home in CT when I post this....and finish it unless it is done on the ride home.
Whatever.
Hello Combos. Mmmm...aren't you yummy and all I've even today.
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Festival of Darkness (Yami no Matsuri)
by Silver Miko
(who needs to eat an actual meal today)
Despite the oppressively humid weather and the large mass of people filling the streets, there was a generally pleasant air amongst the citizen of Kyoto as the sun began to set. The sky was lit afire in orange and red as vendors completed setting up for the festival and paper lanterns were already being lit as people began filing the streets in their best yukata and kimono for the festivities.
The cheerful occasion was one that was being blatantly ignored by Shinomori Aoshi, who sat alone in his room casually reading over paperwork. He could hear the people on the street from his open window, but paid no heed to it.
He cared not for festivals or the large crowds. He had no need for games or shopping, even as a child he found them to be something he avoided. He preferred to simply pitch in at the Aoiya as needed. They always made good business in the evening and it would then die down as the night went on every year at the festival. It was when it was slower that she would depart to wander around, smiling. Laughing. Loving every moment of it.
She always loved festivals. When they had been on the road, as much as he didn't care for them, he always took Misao to the summer festival and she always thanked him and at the end would always present him with some sort of gift she had one in a game.
But those days had ended, Misao no longer needed a chaperone. She didn't need him keeping an eye on her.
It was strange, for this was the first time in being in her company again that he did not escort her. The last time had been when she was eight. She had worn a bright green yukata and had won a goldfish at the end of the night and gave it to him. He accepted it and told her it was best to set the fish free and so they went to a river and let it go.
It felt so long ago. But it was, wasn't it? That had been nine years ago.
She was seventeen now, she no longer needed to give him a gift. She didn't need or want his silent approval on the gold colored yukata she had chosen.
He set the papers down and listened to the din of the crowd.
He hated festivals. The many people. The feeling of being different. Of not finding the cheer in it all. He was not sociable really.
But he hated the feeling that Misao no longer needed him even more.
She had not even asked him to go. Maybe she just didn't think he would.
But still....
He didn't like it.
He didn't like the feeling these thoughts were causing, thoughts that were tied to other thoughts that had been lingering through his mind for almost a year concerning Misao and what to make of her.
He didn't want to think of it. But he couldn't help it. It was there in his face. Blatant and clear.
She loved him, not in a childish way like in the past.
She was not a child.
He wasn't sure what to expect when he returned to Kyoto seeking Battousai. If he ran into Misao would he recognize her.
He knew that he would. He would always know Misao's face.
He didn't know at the time how he would react to her. In his travels and during the time in Kanryuu's estate she was on his mind from time to time as he often wondered what she was like as she grew, what kind of person she'd become.
Would she remember him? Still love him?
Did he want her to still love him?
But then returning to Kyoto those were easily forgotten thoughts. At that time he was set on fighting Battousai. He couldn't afford to think of her. He didn't want to feel he had something to return to. Something to live for.
He was going to throw his life away, he didn't need a reminder of why to live.
That was why he fought Okina. He needed to sever that part of his life off. That was why he spoke so cruelly to her. He needed to sever her away. He couldn't hold onto to something. He needed to let go of everything for his desperate revenge.
And it did nearly kill him. And it scarred his soul. And he wasn't sure if he would ever really recover from it, but he would spend his days trying. Sometimes he thought of leaving again, but he wouldn't.
He couldn't leave. He couldn't leave her again. He needed to keep an eye on her, needed desperately to keep her from danger.
Or that was what he told himself.
He would not dwell any further. He couldn't......
He wouldn't let himself acknowledge anything else. He wasn't sure just what would be unleashed inside him if he did.
But still...
Rising from his chair, Aoshi walked to his dresser and pulled out an indigo yukata and stripped off his violet gi, shirt, and pants and changed into the yukata.
He hated festivals.
But he hated her there without him even more.
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It was amazing and exciting as it was every year, but for some reason Misao felt something was lacking. She had browsed things to buy, stopped for some snacks, even played a few games thus far, but it still felt off. She knew the reason. It was the lack of the tall presence at her side. It never bothered her at previous festivals, since he hadn't been in Kyoto, but this year...
He was home. But he wasn't there with her. He had always brought her to the summer festival no matter where they were. She missed his silent companionship and giving him a small gift at the end of the night.
She had been a kid when last Aoshi was with her at a festival.
Still, she hadn't invited him knowing he would most likely decline. He hated these things, and she didn't want to subject him to something he preferred to not do. Even if she did want him there.
But then again, if he was there....she wouldn't be able to indulge in anything truly fun.
Like sake.
As she made her way to the sake vendor booth, she fervently hoped Hiko had not wandered down from his hut in the woods and drank the booth dry. If Aoshi were there he would refuse to let her drink.
Maybe him not being there with her a good thing.
She wasn't sure what to think of him anymore. She was quite sure it was obvious to him about her feelings, but he said nothing. She didn't want to just come out and say it, she was afraid he would reject her. He cared for her, that she was sure of. Just in what capacity was what left her with the desire to smack her head repeatedly against a wall. She had tried guessing from their interactions and whatnot, but whatever he felt for her...he wasn't saying anytime soon.
All she could do was guess and wait and see.
Until she was old and grey she would wait and see.
Thinking of that made Misao feel even more depressed as she reached the booth.
"One bottle of sake please."
"Coming right up, Miss!"
Reaching for her money purse, Misao grabbed some coins as the vendor returned with a bottle and a dish and Misao handed the man money. Finding a table she sat and poured some into a dish.
"Here's to you Aoshi-sama, you elusive and infuriating man."
She raised the dish to the sky and then began to drink.
And drink.
And drink some more.
Until the bottle was almost empty and she was resting her head on the table making circles against it with her finger.
"Little weasels should not indulge in spirits they cannot handle."
Hearing that deep, irritating voice and smelling the scent of tabacco Misao slowly turned her head and looked up.
"Ugh! No! Nononononono! I am not in the mood for you, Sajime Haitoh. Hatime....whatever stupid chimney chute police dog!!!" Misao said, finishing by sticking her tongue out at him and drooling all over her inebreated self.
Saitoh looked at her in absolute disgust, and took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out at her.
"You are pathetic, Okashira." he sneered, and left as she struggled with her yukata to kick him but then just stumbled and sat back down in her seat. Resting her chin in her hand, she sighed dramatically.
"Sounds like you're having a rough night."
Misao looked up to see Shiro smiling down at her.
"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiro-kun!!!" she exclaimed loudly, her eyes bright and her mouth hanging in an open smile.
Shiro blinked down at her and groaned.
"Oh God, you've been drinking. Don't let Okina or Aoshi-san catch you like this or there'll be hell to pay."
Misao waved her hand.
"Whatever! I'm seventeen and I'm Okashira! Those two need to realize I'm not a baby anymore and I can make decisions on my own, get drunk on my own, and I can pine away endlessly for that stubborn man all on my own! What were we talking about again?"
Shiro blinked.
"Misao-chan, maybe I should sit with you for a while until Omasu gets done working."
Misao made a smirk.
"Oh Omasu-san ehhhh? So what are you saying, Shiro-kun? You and Omasu are...you know....ehhehehe..."
"Are what?"
Misao began making vague hand gestures.
"You KNOW! Geez! Why do you all assume I don't know about it!"
Shiro turned pale and deathly white as Misao finished her sentence.
Not so much from what she was saying, but at the person standing right behind her.
Who did not look too happy at Misao's statement.
"And why should we assume otherwise, Misao?" Aoshi's deep voice murmured, a gravelly edge to it that made Shiro get up and politely leave hastily.
Misao turned slowly and looked up at Aoshi, sighing and flipping her braid over her shoulder.
"Ohhhhhh? Aoshi-sama at a festival? What are you doing out here."
He did not like the trace of insulence in her voice one bit.
"What knowledge of the subject you and Shiro were discussing do you really have, Misao?" he asked, evading her question.
Misao stood up, pushing her chair clumsily in and put her hands on her hips as she looked up at him with narrowed eyes.
"What do you care, Aoshi-sama? Like you'd care if I ever had something going with anyone else, I'm just a kid to you. Isn't that so?"
He in turn, glared down at her coldly.
"Does alcohol always make you so rude and brash?"
"Don't you mean more blunt?! More willing to be honest? I'm so sick of dancing around issues with you. You know how I feel and say nothing so I am left to simply assume that you don't care enough and that what I may do with others would be of no concern to you. I would wait forever if you asked, but you don't even say that much." she mumbled, and turned on her feet and walked away from him.
He stood there, processing her words, his blood boiling, and his feet were walking after her before he even knew it.
She was walking away, towards the secluded path near the woods that would lead back near the Aoiya. The Oniwabanshuu often used the path for easier travel as opposed to walking in big crowds and the traffic and bustle of the city.
Her gait was a bit more graceful, and her mind was beginning to clear from the sake-induced haze. She was starting to become aware of all the things she had said that she never intended to actually say to Aoshi.
And that was when she felt her heart clench and panic arose in her. The things she had said....
How she acted....and she said...
The things she alluded to.
She could hear the babbling of the river ahead as she passed through bushes, feeling the dire need to run to the safety of her room in the Aoiya.
She could at least attempt to hide there.
But that was not to be as she felt her arm grasped tightly suddenly in a vice-like grip and she was slammed against a tree.
She didn't need to look up to see angry blue eyes staring down at her, but she looked up anyway and felt herself pale.
His face....his eyes...felt so dark.
"What do you know of carnal knowledge, Misao?" he asked, his grip tightening on her arm. The silk of her yukata was soft against his palm, reminding him momentarily of long ago, when she would shyly ask him to get her yukata from the top of her closet when she was a child.
That child, it seemed, was long gone.
"I...only know what I've heard!" she mumbled, biting her lower lip.
He moved his face closer to hers, his bangs falling into his eyes as he paused a few inches from her own face.
"At the festival you seemed to indicate you knew more. Do not lie to me." he said, enunciating the last part as Misao turned to look away. She couldn't look at him, like he was stabbing right through her defenses and into her soul.
"I was....I was...it was all talk!"
Misao was no longer drunk, more like buzzed. She always was able to sober up rather quickly, but now she wished she was still drunk. Maybe then she would just pass out and not have to deal with Aoshi's strange anger.
What did he....
"Why do you care anyway?!"
He didn't say anything for a moment, seeming to weigh his next words.
"You say you are simply left to assume that I don't care enough, Misao..." he began, moving to press his face against the side of hers, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear making her tremble slightly.
"Y..Yes.." she replied.
Why was she scared? Aoshi wouldn't hurt her.....not anymore anyway. Right?
"Do not assume...to know what I feel." he murmured into her ear before capturing the delicate cartilidge of her ear with his teeth and biting down gently which caused her to gasp.
"Aoshi-sama...what are you doing?" she asked, feeling his hands on her shoulder slide to the collar of her yukata. He pulled, the collar moving to expose her shoulders and the top of her breasts.
His mouth moved from her ear to her neck, biting and licking.
"Show me then, Misao. Show me what you know." he said evenly, his voice betraying no emotion.
Her eyes widened.
Surely he couldn't....he wouldn't mean to...
"Aoshi-sama, I don't know....I've never..." she began, her mouth closing as her throat constricted when his lips moved to her collarbone leaving small red marks on her skin.
He shifted, moving his face inches from hers once more.
"Never, Misao?"
She shook her head, her face flushed.
"No..I've never done that with anyone. I wouldn't with anyone but.." she let the words die on her tongue. They both knew the last word anyway.
You.
"And you never will. No one else, Misao." he murmured and captured her lips again as his tongue demanded entrance to her mouth and she was left without a choice but to comply and moaned softly as he hands moved over her, loosening the tie of her yukata.
He wasn't really going to...
His hand traced the inner part of her thigh, fingers dancing upward to her womanhood and Misao gasped as he began stroking her sensitive bundle of nerves until she was shaking and gasping for breath.
"No one will ever touch you like this, Misao. Only I will be the one to show you this." he said, moving his hand to slide a single finger into warmth, making her lose herself more and more.
She was his. No one else would have her. Ever.
He would make sure she would never want another. Only him.
His fingers left her as she opened eyes that had been clenched shut and looked at him questioningly.
"Aoshi...sama?"
He pulled at the tie of his yukata, letting the material part as he grasped her thighs with his hand and lifted her to straddle his waist.
He lifted his head to look at her, his eyes heated and dark and she bit her lip and braced herself. She couldn't deny him, even if this would be union spurned from his anger, she would not deny him. Ever. She wanted so badly to be his....even if it meant he would discard her afterwards. She wanted this. Wanted him. Now.
She did her best to stifle her cry of pain when he finally entered her, the grip on her thighs tightening as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his narrow waist which only served to bring him in further. It was painful, but she knew from what she heard the pain would pass.
Aoshi groaned silently against her neck, lost in the maddening pleasure. So long he secretly wanted this, denying it to himself. How he longed to touch her, to grab her and fuck her senseless. Make her his. She was his from the moment he took her into his care years ago. He taught her everything, it was only fitting he teach her intimacy.
Why had he denied it? Denied himself the pleasure of Misao? Too long without knowing the feel of her against him...
He bit down into her neck, leaving his mark as he began thrusting into her and her hands quickly reached to cling to his shoulders. She pulled tightly on his parted yukata as she made wordless moans and gasps, her eyes closing as she studied the feel of his large sex thrusting in and out of her.
The pain was starting to ease, something else was taking its place and she wanted more. Experimentally she rolled her hips against his, and groaned his name silently as she worked to keep in rhythm with him. It was an effort has his thrusts became less controlled and more wild, and she was clinging to him and arching.
Aoshi wanted all of Misao he could take, he no longer cared to be gentle, he wanted more of the pleasure she gave and to give her more. Over and over until they collapsed.
He soon felt her tense as his name left her lips in a broken scream and she went lax in his arms, her breathing hard. Aoshi continued driving on until he felt his body go rigid and he came, releasing himself inside her before with shaky arms he let go of her.
She slowly set her feet to the ground, her body feeling like mush as she sluggishly pulled her yukata back together as Aoshi did the same. They didn't speak, but Misao made glances at him unsure of what to say.
Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and Misao didn't think as she reached up and brushed them off, then took her hand back unsure. She gazed down at her feet, suddenly embarassed.
They had....so in the open of the woods....and it had been the most thrilling experience of her life.
Warm fingers grasped her chin and lifted her face as Aoshi looked her in the eye.
"This will not be the only time, Misao. You are mine."
She blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
She leaned up and kissed him.
"I always was. No one else will have me like you do, Aoshi-sama. No one else will have me...only you."
He grasped her hand, turning to lead her back to the Aoiya.
She knew he would not apologize for his abrupt behavior or misplaced anger. She didn't care. She knew he had a darkside, and she loved all of him. She didn't need undying proclamations of love, just him.
He glanced over his shoulder back at her as they walked down the path. Maybe he had overreacted, let his demons unleash over nothing. He never intended to let Misao see the darkness in him ever again, and yet she trembled but made no protest. She seemed able to deal with his darkness and he was thankful for that small miracle.
She had unleashed something else as well, a hunger in him that had been latent but growing for months. Lust for her, and he would no longer deny himself and hold back.
"Aoshi-sama....do you...love me?" she asked as they were almost to the Aoiya. She had to know. To hear it.
He paused and looked down at her.
"Must you ask?"
She sighed.
"Aoshi-sama, there's lust and then there's love. Sex isn't always about love. I'm not that naive. I mean, what happened back there...it was because you were pissed and being possessive. I still don't know what you feel and I want to know."
He sighed, exasperated.
"Being asked to express my feelings is not something I'm very familiar with. As a child I was taught to hide them. I don't want to say it wrong, Misao."
She made a soft 'oh'.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head.
"But I can show you. The Aoiya will be empty by now because of the festival."
She could swear she felt his lips curl into a smirk.
"I suppose. Just promise you'll try to say it sometimes."
"Aa." he murmured, taking her hand and leading her home.
"Aoshi-sama, I never gave you a gift this year."
"Yes, you did."
"What?" she asked, blinking as they reached the Aoiya and Aoshi opened the door for her.
He merely shook his head.
She was now completely sober and his anger was gone. She followed him upstairs to his room in silence. He watched her move to stand next to his futon and he watched her as he slid his shoji shut.
He would have her again and again until the morning, less frenzied. He would take it slower and show her everything, until she was without a doubt of his feelings.
The festival continued on as the two came together again in the darkness of night.
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Ugh. Unsure of this one. Thanks to Ink for looking it over up until the lemon.