A River in Egypt

by Reia

Disclaimer: Kenshin's never been mine. Sigh.

Summary: Misao is determined to make Aoshi love her. Aoshi is determined not to fall. However, danger arises and maybe neither has any choice in the matter...

Author's note: Aww... five reviews? Well, I hope I get more with this chapter—a sort of deeper plot is revealed! Wahooo...

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Chapter 4: Missions and Misunderstandings

--

Aoshi stifled a cry of pain as he half-limped towards Misao's office. Even though it was late at night, she still had to have been there judging from the light spilling out of the cracks of the door. He sighed and tried to straighten as he reached the office, masking his pain as to not alarm Misao.

Her earlier suspicions about the simple shop being a cover-up for something more sinister had been right. He had been doing some routing spying when he noticed a young child being dragged into the back of the Chinese shop. There had been some indecipherable shouting, all in Cantonese that Aoshi couldn't understand. Aoshi hadn't stopped to think when he saw one of the men unsheath his sword and looked to swing it towards the boy. Whether it was a killing blow or a maiming one, Aoshi didn't know and didn't care. He saw a helpless boy and acted to save him.

The men had been simple enough to subdue, but then another man appeared out of nowhere. He battled with Aoshi briefly before the young boy's cries were heard above the din of violence who was tearfully trying to explain that Aoshi was not one of the men who'd attacked him and had actually come to save him. The man who had come in was revealed to be the younger one's older brother.

It was ironic that it an ally would be the one who caused more injury than any of the others.

The young man was slightly shorter than him, which wasn't unusual. He was a little bit younger as well, with a tuft of sandy hair brushing against watchful green eyes that matched the smaller boy's. What was also interesting was that his fighting technique was nothing he'd ever seen in Japan, and he used some discarded ornamental chopsticks to deflect some of his kodachi's blows, which amazed Aoshi. After quickly scurrying out of the shop, the young man and his little brother explained the situation further.

Iori Takeda was the youngest boy's name, and Aoshi recognized him as the young musical prodigy. He played several instruments, but at 10 years old, was a master of the shamisen and shukachi. His older brother by fifteen years was Kaze Takeda, and his sole guardian. In fact, he had been the one to dispatch the help of Oniwabanshu. Aoshi wanted to probe more into the subject, but Kaze told him that it would be best to speak better the next day after rest and reflection, at the Takeda mansion.

Kaze had then casually thrown Aoshi a bag of money as if was worth nothing more than rice, and told him that it was extra pay for a job well done protecting his brother and for injuries inflicted by the shady men.

Kaze failed to apologize for attacking him however, something Aoshi did not lightly dismiss. Aoshi did not trust him, and decided that this mission's status was going to increase exponentially. However, despite the danger of the evening, Aoshi's blood roared through his veins and he felt alive for the first time in years. It had been a while since he had engaged in a mission that was actually worth an Oniwabanshu ninja's attention.

He was about to relate the evening's events to Misao when he paused at sound of his name coming from behind the door. It was Okon's voice.

“There is no way in hell Aoshi will ever figure it out. Don't worry, Misao!”

Aoshi stiffened and listened further, lowering his ki to remain undetected.

“Not if you make sure you do everything according to plan. Use those ninja skills you were born with!” That was Omasu speaking now. Aoshi frowned. Plan? Ninja skills...?

“It's so deceitful though.” Misao's voice sounded uneasy. “It's not like me.”

“Even better. You'll get him when he least expects it,” Okon said, sounding gleeful. “Then BAM!”

Aoshi was slightly startled when Okon must have hit Misao's desk at her exclamation.

“He won't know what hit him!” Okon cackled. Aoshi clenched his fist, wondering what they were plotting against him, and why they were trying to recruit Misao to their cause. He knew that the Oniwabanshu would never completely accept him, if it wasn't for Misao. But now, Okon and Omasu seemed determined to sway Misao against him. They must have known what had happened a couple of days prior—they probably wanted to take advantage of Misao's emotional state. It seemed very unlike Okon and Omasu to be cruelly manipulative, but from the sounds of it, that was what it was like.

Okon's declaration was shocking enough, but what followed afterwards seared into Aoshi's mind.

Misao's roaring laughter filled the room. “You're right, Okon. No more Miss Nice Misao. By the time I'm through, he won't know which way is up. The bastard deserves all he's going to get!”

This was followed by more laughter by Okon and Omasu. Aoshi squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the ache that suddenly gripped his insides. He felt physically ill. Misao... His Misao was plotting against him? Not that he didn't deserve it, by God, but... he had trusted her.

Their laughter continued.

He couldn't listen any further. Gritting his teeth, he stalked away from the room and away from the Aoiya.

--

Misao lifted her head and blinked curiously at the door. Okon and Omasu followed her gaze, confused.

“What's wrong, Misao?” Omasu asked. Misao shook her head and shrugged, fighting back a sudden chill.

“It's nothing. I just thought I heard something,” Misao dismissed. She sighed loudly. “Anyway, this love business sure is complicated.”

“Honey, if you never thought about it like a war, you've been playing the wrong game this entire time,” Okon drawled, cynically. Omasu giggled and posed with flourish.

“Love is always a battle,” she declared, causing all the girls to burst into giggles.

“But seriously though,” Okon said, after they had recovered. “Don't sweat so much about it but you gotta treat your man like a mission. Gotta gain that bit of objectivity so you can actually follow through with the plan.”

Omasu nodded. “Yah, today it may have seemed like nothing will change, but you have to give it time and let the plan go forward a bit first before you throw in the towel. You've got nothing else to lose here, Misao. But everything to gain.”

Misao bit her lip, conflicted. She had had her doubts when Okon and Omasu first concocted this plan to help her get Aoshi's romantic attention, but Misao was at the point where she would do just about anything to get anywhere with her relationship with Aoshi. She couldn't pine away forever!

“I know. But it's going to be weird just calling him by his name,” Misao muttered. “And I dunno... I don't know if I can... 'flirt' with him.” Misao burst into nervous giggles, her face flushing. “I'm just not good at that stuff.”

“Like I said, treat it like a ninja mission, okashira,” Okon repeated. “It's all about playing a character, being sly. You've done it before in other missions. Your character for tomorrow has to be familiar and coy.”

“But not too much,” Omasu interrupted. “Or else he'd suspect something was up or he'd be turned off.”

Misao grimaced. “This is too complicated.”

“Nonsense. This is just the beginning,” Okon tittered. “Anyway, Omasu and I'll give you pointers. Now here's what you do...”

--

Misao found it odd to find that Aoshi was not in his room that evening. The ninja girls told Misao that her behaviour was bordering on stalker-ish, and should leave well enough alone until the next day. However, Misao knew Aoshi and he was nothing but a creature of habit. Knowing he wasn't asleep in his room very late at night—or was it the morning?--made Misao ill at ease.

She hovered around the darkened hallways of the Aoiya fretting, when she stopped in her tracks.

Her eyes snapped wide open as she realised the last time she spoke to him, she had sent him off to a mission! Her heart began to beat erratically as the worst case scenarios played in her head. She should have sent an extra person! Okina has specifically written down that the mission may have needed two people! Panicked, Misao started sprinting towards the exit of the Aoiya, with all intentions to find that Chinese shop Aoshi had been stationed in.

However, her journey was cut abruptly when she ploughed onto something and promptly fell flat on her back, legs and arms akimbo. The solid block she collided against grunted in equal amount of shock. Automatically, Misao's hands grasped her hidden kunai and she positioned herself defensively. She blinked as she adjusted her vision and stared up at the shadowed face of her love. She immediately hid her kunai.

“Aoshi-sama!” she yelled in relief. Realizing how loud she sounded, she slapped her hands against her mouth. She chuckled uneasily, releasing her mouth and speaking in a much managable decibel level. “Ah, I'm sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was going.”

The hallway around the sleeping quarters was very dim, and Misao could barely make out Aoshi's face, except for the whites of his eyes.

“You're up very late,” he observed, coolly.

“So are you,” Misao returned. She pouted. “Why are you home so late?”

“It doesn't concern you,” he said tightly, then made a move to go past her. Misao's jaw dropped at his rudeness, too shocked to be offended by it. She grabbed at his side to stop him from going further, but he winced at her touch and she recoiled in horror.

“You're in pain!” Misao breathed, scrambling to his side and forcing his arm to go over her shoulders so he could lean on her. He stiffened and snatched his arm back and took a definite step away from her.

“I can walk perfectly fine, Misao. Go to bed,” he ordered.

“Not until you tell me how you got hurt!” Misao demanded. She felt tension radiate from him in small waves and despite the darkness, she could tell he wasn't very pleased with her persistence. However, he was hurt and Misao for once didn't care what Aoshi thought. They stared at each other silently, before Misao growled loudly.

“Fine! Get to your room by yourself!” Misao gruffed, then stomped away in a huff.

Once he knew she was out of viewing and hearing distance, Aoshi slouched and sighed, running a tired hand across his face. By gods, he was tired. Heart and soul tired. He padded his way into his room, and lit a couple of his laterns on to provide better lighting. The moon shone through his window, but it wasn't adequate enough to be able to see everything.

After hearing Misao's planned betrayal, Aoshi had walked hours on end down the valley and stream near the Aoiya, which was just by the temple. Alone in his thoughts, he blamed himself for the deterioration of his relationship with the girl. He knew that at one point, her feelings for him hadn't been an act. He would stake his life on that. But now, he began questioning her recent actions. As the years passed, and Misao grew older and more lovely, she had become more bold in her pursuit for his affections. Though, she was still painfully shy except for the last couple of days where she had actually confessed her love, and then the next day, had tried to kiss him!

Perhaps it was all part of her “plan” to disarm him. He had no idea what in the world she could possibly do to harm him. Perhaps it just wasn't safe for him to be in the Aoiya anymore. If Misao had a plan against him, the rest of the Oniwabanshu may as well be involved.

As he continued thinking, he decided that there was no better fate for him, than to die by the hands of someone he so admired. If he was to die, even in betrayal, he would let no other person than Misao to make the fatal blow. He had thought that dying in battle, against someone like Battousai or Shishio, would have been more honorable. He sighed again. Maybe he had no idea what honor was, anymore.

He had removed his trenchcoat and his shirt, and was about to remove his belts when his door swished open. In a blink, he had a kodachi in his hand and was pointing straight at his assailant. There was a clatter as something dropped on the floor and big blue eyes widened impossibly further. Aoshi cursed as he noticed it was Misao at his door.

“What are you doing here?” Aoshi demanded quietly, lowering his kodachi but not unsheathing it. He hadn't quite accepted Misao's betrayal, and he sure as hell wasn't going down without a fight. He knew, physically and skillfully, he was much more superior than Misao was... but Misao was playing a more dangerous game. One that involved the mind. He may have the advantage of years and experience, but Misao had the advantage of the heart.

“I found the first aid kit,” Misao told him. He noticed her eyes lower as she regarded his bare torso, which would have been an immaculate sight if it wasn't marred by long, thin scars. Aoshi had always been very careful during any of his fights, but he wasn't superhuman by any means. He had learned to make peace with his scars—it taught him humility, and that no one was indestructible. Battousai had been the one who had quietly told him that scars weren't anything to be ashamed of, no more than a wrinkle by your eyes which was a reflection of years of laughter and smiles. Scars were something that was part of you, that will forever mark you as a survivor.

Misao's expression was confused. She had never seen him this barely dressed before, and was probably the first time she even noticed her “perfect” Aoshi-sama was anything but—at least physically. He couldn't tell if she was disgusted or not. When she lifted her eyes towards him again, they showed no changing emotion.

“There's not much we can do about those bruises, except maybe ointment,” Misao pondered aloud and she lowered herself onto the ground to rifle within the first aid kit Takani-sensei had put together for them. She found a small packet and handed it towards Aoshi.

“I'm sure you can... uh, put it on yourself,” Misao said a tad tremulously, the first time she showed any sort of discomfort in the situation. He tilted his head and regarded her oval face more thoroughly. Was she blushing?

He didn't say anything and Misao left in another quick huff, babbling incoherently to herself. It was something Aoshi noticed she would do whenever she was nervous or confused.

He was only wearing his robe when Misao swished in his room again, unannounced. He stifled a growl of annoyance at her boldness and familiarity—he supposed that her tomboyish upbringing didn't teach her adequately enough to knock or be fazed by walking into a man's room in the middle of the night. Though, to her credit, she looked slightly startled at his state of undress. He wasn't uncomfortable with her seeing him that way in the least, but he knew it was just highly inappropriate.

He supposed he had never minded before when she would clamber in his room, but those times had been during the day, and when he was calm and in control of his emotions, his mind clear. However, the evening was another creature all together. The evening was welcome to his nightmares and his awful thoughts.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at her, and she seemed taken aback at his more than colder attitude towards her.

“I brought you some tea, to help you relax,” Misao explained softly, lowering herself onto the floor to pour him some of the hot liquid. “And so we can talk about your mission this afternoon.”

“Thank you for the tea,” Aoshi said distantly, “But we can better discuss business tomorrow.”

Misao nodded absently as she passed him his tea cup, and poured herself one. Aoshi shook his head slightly. She wasn't getting the hint, or, he suspected, she was purposely playing ignorant. He lowered the tea to the ground and was about to dismiss her when Misao opened her mouth.

“Aoshi,” Misao began, and the lack of honorific was not missed on the strong ninja. “What's wrong? You're mad at me.”

Aoshi was surprised. she could tell. “I'm tired, Misao.” At least that was true.

Her eyes were shimmering when she lifted them to meet his gaze. “I was worried about you, when you didn't come home on time.”

“I'm a grown man, Misao. I can be left to my own devices,” Aoshi said coolly, ignoring how his insides twisted at her distraught expression. It was probably just for show.

“I know that,” Misao said, her frustration becoming evident. “That's not the point!”

Then, Misao did something that surprised him even more. She didn't even hesitate as she closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel moisture touch his neck as she burried her face against the crook of it. He stiffened in shock.

“You may not love me,” Misao said, her lips moving against his skin. Was she trying to drive him crazy? He suppressed a shudder. She went on, “But I do, and worrying about you is just part of that. Please don't be mad at me.”

Despite himself, Aoshi felt his arms wrap around the small girl in a familiar embrace. When was the last time Misao and he had embraced? It had been a long time. When she was still a child... Misao had always been exuberant and generous with her bear hugs, but there seemed to have been an unspoken rule that excluded Aoshi from these actions. There were many things Aoshi noticed that Misao would do with the others that she would either hesitate in sharing with him or completely avoid doing altogether. It never really had bothered Aoshi before, but now with her in his arms, he was feeling pangs of regret.

How long they stayed in that quiet embrace, Aoshi did not know, but as she pulled away Aoshi had to resist the urge to pull her back. Already, he was missing her touch, which he knew was foolhardy. He regarded Misao and decided this woman-child was more dangerous than any of the foes he'd ever faced.

--

Misao's only thoughts were scattered when she had barged into his room while he was undressing. She had been to busy admiring him to be even embarassed about it. She had had glimpses of his bare chest before, but never like this in its full glory. She had stupidly gaped at him, shocked at his scars and was even more shocked at how much more appealing he suddenly was because of them. And by goodness, his abs were like a washboard! But of course they would be, Misao thought smugly. This was her Aoshi-sama.

She hoped she had hidden her blatant desire, and if he did notice, he hadn't made a comment. She supposed that she was being a little bit of a nuisance, but she loved fussing around Aoshi. It made her feel like he needed her, even if that wasn't true. She hadn't really been thinking when she made him some tea—it was so automatic for her to do so when she suspected Aoshi needed to relax, that when she entered his room again, she had forgotten he'd been getting ready to sleep.

Her brain scrambled to say something coherent, and she remembered she had been waiting up for him so he could brief her on his assignment of the day. She marvelled at how steady her voice was when she had explained it to him. It hurt though, when she felt him close himself and withdraw, and he was looking at her with something akin to anger and distrust. It was so foreign to Misao that it bewildered her, not to mention hurt her like nothing else. Tears had pricked her eyes. Her immedate reaction was to apologize and so without thinking, she had thrown her arms around him and hugged him.

She had expected no reaction, but Aoshi's arms were firm and sure as they wrapped themselves around her frame. She automatically slumped against him, the feel of his body both comforting and exciting. It had been so long since Aoshi had held her, before he had left the Aoiya, before the war, before any innocence was lost.

She pulled away when she realised that they had been holding each other an inordinate amount of time, wondering what Aoshi was thinking. His eyes were hooded, and Misao wasn't sure what to make of that.

She fought down a rising flush as she realised she had just been sitting alone in a room with an attractive, half-naked man in the middle of the night, and had just finished hugging him in such a familiar way.

“G-goodnight, Aoshi-sa--” Misao paused, remembering her newfound conviction to address him informally. “Aoshi.”

She got to her feet and headed towards the door when Aoshi called out her name. She turned. “Yes?”

His gaze flickered as he seemed to contemplate his next words. They came out a husky whisper. “Good night.”