She Left On A Monday
By Hikaru

Ship(s): Aoshi x Misao, Kaoru x Kenshin, Hiko x his ego

Summary: AU. Misao returns home after many years to find things really haven't changed.

30kisses challenge #s: 7 (superstar), 20 (the road home)

Chapter I

The scenery blurred past her as she gazed out the window to her left. The grays of buildings became indistinct as the car sped through the city streets of Tokyo, speckled with bright red and blue hues of neon signs, glowing in the rising sun. Nothing looked familiar to her, not even the small ramen shops. Everything had changed so much. The road home was now a stranger to her. Far be it for her to call Tokyo the only stranger, since she looked nothing like she had when she left. Her hair was cut short now, just barely touching her shoulders. She had highlighted her hair orange, to try and "blend in" with her past surroundings. She was also taller now. Older. No, she was sure she was just as much a stranger to Tokyo that it was to she. Quietly, she sighed, gently knocking her head against the glass window.

"How now, Misao?" Okina glanced over to his granddaughter, a smile on his face. He clicked off the radio, letting the car become silent. "You're supposed to be excited about coming home after being gone so long!"

Misao closed her eyes. "I'm just tired, Jiya," she remarked, looking over to the old man. "The flight from America is pretty long, you know." She let out another sigh and returned to leaning her forehead against the cold glass window.

With a loud guffaw, Okina made a right turn. "That's what you get for not visiting for five years, my pretty. Off running around America, making movies, doing interviews, dating men," he narrowed his eyes mischievously. "That's my Misao, the superstar. How many boy toys do you have now? Four? Five?"

"Please, Jiya, you're almost bad as those reporters," Misao pleaded, lightly banging her head against the glass a few times. "Like I told you, I left America for a reason. I want some time off from all of that- if not permanently."

"So that's why you called your poor Grandfather at four this morning to come pick you up from the airport," he teased, making another right.

Glaring at old man, she answered, "I called because I knew you would be the only person who would be up."

"Ah," he retorted, ever so cunningly. "But I know one other person who you could have called who would have come to pick you up."

She didn't have an answer for that. It was inevitable that the person Okina was talking about would find out that she was back in Tokyo, but for now, she really didn't want to think about him.

Okina looked over to her again, with an eyebrow raised. Misao had never told her grandfather about what exactly happened before she left Tokyo five years previous, but Okina had his suspicions. Misao's silence only supported his beliefs. Perhaps things would be different this time. Taking the last left onto his street, Okina said, "Everything will work out."

Suddenly, Misao knew where she was again. From the post in front of the Akebeko restaurant, to the garden in front of Seijirou-san's pottery shop, she knew all of it. These were her memories. Her youth. The frown that was on her face turned slowly into a small smile as they pulled into the apartment complex that Okina owned, called the Aoi-ya. The sun hit the building at just the right angle, making it seem ablaze in pink and orange. It was absolutely breathtaking. The perfect welcoming home.

After parking the car in the garage, Okina got Misao's things out of the trunk of his small Daihatsu as Misao swung her backpack across her right shoulder. He smiled at her renewed excitement. "Glad to be home?"

"I would be lying if I said no," she replied with a smile. But deep in her gut, she was worried. She followed her grandfather as he headed to the elevators, her shoulders feeling a little bit heavier than they used to. There was still a possibility of running into him and really, that was the last thing she wanted to do. She assumed that he still lived in the apartment complex, as Okina would have told her if he had moved. Just make sure to watch my step, she told herself. And not bump into him.

The elevator chimed. Misao headed out of the elevator first. She knew where she was going, so she paid little mind to the form that was in front of her.

That was, until, she bumped into it.

Being knocked to the floor, Misao broke her fall using her arm. She cursed under her breath. "I'm sorry Jiya," she mumbled. "I must have forgot there was a wall there."

"Misao?" A deep voice, which was very much not her grandfather, asked in surprise.

Misao's face jerked upward to see that it wasn't a wall that she had bumped into, but the one she least wanted to see at that moment.

"S-Shinomori Aoshi," she muttered, eyes wide as she stared up at him. He was taller than she remembered, with broader shoulders. Of course, sitting on the floor wasn't going to help her height perception. But his eyes. Oh, they were the same haunting blue that sent shivers down her spine. Cursing herself mentally, Misao tried to gather the strength, and the sense to push herself up and stand tall. However, it seemed that her sense had went out for a coffee break along with the rest of her body. After telling herself to not bump into him, she literally BUMPED into him! There was no living this down.

He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, with a faded black t-shirt. Under his eyes there were dark circles, making him look exhausted. He had a notebook clutched in a his left hand, she noted.

"Good morning, Aoshi!" Okina beamed, walking off the elevator. "Pull another all nighter?"

Never breaking eye contact with Misao, who was still sitting on the floor, he answered, "Yes."

"You don't want to overwork yourself, my boy. Make sure you get some rest..." Okina warned, a smile still on his face.

Nodding, Aoshi finally tore his sight away from Misao. "I will be once I return from meeting with my editor," he replied, walking onto the open elevator.

"This early in the morning?" Okina asked. "Your poor editor. Not everyone keeps your hours, Aoshi."

"He asked me to come this early," Aoshi replied as the elevator doors began to shut. "See you later, Okina." After a pause, he added, "Misao."

"Have a nice day, Aoshi!" Okina called to the closed elevator doors. With a large grin, he turned to Misao and let out a laugh. "You really do fall for the poor boy, don't you, Misao?"

Glaring, Misao finally managed to push herself off of the ground. "Shut up, Jiya," she grumbled, brushing herself off. After bumping into Aoshi she felt foolish being dressed in her baggy comfort clothes, with no make-up. It was her disguise so she could travel in the airport quietly, and it had worked. But now she regretted that she hadn't put at least a little make-up on. After five years, he sees her half-asleep and sloppily dressed. Always a great first impression. "So why does Aoshi have an editor? Before I left, he was still working at the Akebeko."

Okina stroked his beard. "Oh, I thought I had told you!"

"No, you didn't," Misao retorted, glaring. "That's why I'm asking you."

"Well," the old man let out a loud sigh, crossing his arms against his chest. "Soon after you left, Aoshi quit his job at the Akebeko. In fact, he just stopped coming out at all. People in the apartments started talking, spreading rumors about what happened. After two weeks I decided to take it upon myself to see how he was doing."

Misao rolled her eyes. "You mean that you went to go collect rent, because he was probably overdue."

The old man pretended to be wounded, holding his hand over his heart in shock. "Misao! How could you think that of your poor grandfather?"

"Because it's the truth," she sighed. "Anyway..." Misao crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow in an effort to encourage her grandfather to continue.

"Yes, well, when I came to visit him, he answered the door and looked absolutely normal." Misao scoffed. "Well, as normal as that boy can be," Okina corrected. "But he invited me in and told me about a book he began to write. Apparently, he already had offers based on the few chapters that he had already written."

Blinking, Misao asked, "So, he's an author now?"

"And a very popular one, at that. During the five years that you've been gone, he's had three best sellers." A bright smile came to Okina's face. "I'm so proud of the boy! I'm so glad that he got over whatever you put him through."

Snorting, Misao turned away. "What I put him through? I don't know what Aoshi told you, but I didn't do anything to him. If anything, it was him!"

"Typical woman," the old man sighed as he shook his head. "Doesn't take the blame for her actions. Of course you did something to him, Misao- you left! That boy loved you with all of his little heart, and you just left him. Snap. Like that."

"Look," Misao steamed. "I don't want to talk about this right now, okay? I just had an fourteen hour flight and I would really just like to get some sleep, all right, Jiya?"

"As my little actress wishes," Okina bowed, mockingly, motioning to his apartment.

"I really wish you would stop calling me that."

It was raining the day that everything changed for Aoshi. Cold, bitter, the type of day that most people would wrap themselves up and stay at home. But not Aoshi. Rainy days were his favorite. Standing in the doorway of the Akebeko, he watched in awe as the rain pattered against the ground. Washing everything away, giving the city of Tokyo new life.

"Aoshi!" Tae called. She was the owner and operator of the Akebeko, and Aoshi's boss. "Get away from that door before you catch a cold!"

Turning slowly, he smiled at Tae, who had put her hands on her hips and had a forceful grimace on her face. "Rain does not give people colds, Tae," he reasoned. "If anything, it washes all of the sickness away. It is because people stay in wet clothing that they get sick."

Shaking her head, Tae sighed loudly. She turned to go back to her work, muttering under her breath about how foolish Aoshi was, and how he was going to regret it later when he got deadly ill.

The usual Sunday crowd was missing from the tables of the Akebeko. The rain, Aoshi mused, kept people indoors, safe in their houses. The only customer that had risked life and limb for a meal, was the evening regular, Hiko Seijirou, who lived a block away from the restaurant. Built to kill men, or at least to do construction, the man had decided to live his life as a potter. Of course, Tae, Omasu, and Okon had always gossiped about how Hiko had spent his younger years training in the mountains of Kyoto to become a master at some sort of swordsmanship, but left due to circumstances that never were really clear. Aoshi tried to shut them out, because he really didn't care about Hiko's background. He was Aoshi's least favorite patron. Aoshi was Hiko's favorite person to pick on. Their relationship was entertaining, to say the least.

"Hey boy! Get over here!" Hiko boomed, not caring that he was using his outside voice inside. "I'm ready to order."

Letting out a long breath, Aoshi walked over to Hiko's table, ready with pen and paper in hand. Of course, Aoshi already knew what Hiko was going to order. Katsudon with-

"- miso soup and a large warm sake," Hiko finished, not even having to glance at the menu.

Why he bothered even writing the order down, Aoshi had no idea. The order was already done by the time he walked to the kitchen. The cooks, Omasu and Okon, were admirers of Hiko, and knew exactly when he walked into the restaurant. They made it a game, which usually broke into a fight, on who could get the potter's order ready the fastest.

He picked up the tray that had Hiko's order on it, as well as two love letters from the two cooks, and walked back over to the table where Hiko was sitting. The potter had a large smile on his face, "Even faster than the last time!" Hiko laughed as Aoshi placed the order before him with another sigh. Hiko simply glared up at the younger man, "You are just jealous of my great looks and the effect my powerful mojo has on women."

Aoshi decided to ignore that. "If you require anything else, I will be over there." He walked back over to the open doorway and began to watch the storm again. When suddenly he saw two figures running to the door. He quickly moved out of the way when his landlord, Okina, rushed into the restaurant, holding onto the hand of a young girl that Aoshi was sure he had never seen before. He knew Okina liked younger women, but this girl looked to be only sixteen or so. But that wasn't his business, really, now was it?

"Welcome, Okina," Aoshi bowed slightly.

"Ah, Aoshi!" Okina smiled. The girl who was holding the old man's hand froze at the word 'Aoshi'. "I believe you remember my granddaughter, Misao?"

Thrown off guard, Aoshi stared wide-eyed at the young woman. "Misao?" Oh, he remembered the young little sprite all right. It had to have been at least three years since he had seen her last, and even then it had been in a brief passing as she visited during the holidays.

She had spent most of their childhood being his shadow, following him wherever he went. It had been really annoying, and in the back of his mind he remembered 'Misao' as a little girl that would throw a tantrum if she didn't get to play with her 'Aoshi-sama'. But the young woman before him was nothing remotely even close to the girl he held in his memory. Her raven hair was down to her hips, soaking wet from the rain, along with the rest of her. She wore a hooded pullover sweatshirt and a long, dark blue, denim skirt. And her eyes... her blue eyes. Why couldn't he recall that Misao had such beautiful eyes?

Okina laughed then, patting the young man on the back. "Oh come on! You used to play together all the time when you were yay high," he motioned only a foot off of the ground. "She's been in London for the past few years," he boasted, "Acting school. Nothing but the best for my little Misao! She just came back yesterday. All done with her training! I'm so proud!" He gave the small girl a wet kiss on her cheek.

"You're embarrassing me, Jiya," Misao muttered, trying to hide her face with her free hand. "It's... been a while, Aoshi."

"Yes. A long while, Misao."

"Aoshi, you seem distracted... Are you okay?"

Shaking himself out of his deep thought, Aoshi took in a deep breath. Slowly he grasped that he was no longer in the Akebeko, a job that he had quit years ago. He was in his editor's office in the heart of Shibuya. Frames hung on the wall, all with posters of the covers of the books Aoshi had written. He had helped his editor achieve a high status in the industry, and all because the editor was willing to take a chance on Aoshi's writing style.

Aoshi looked to his editor, and replied, "I am fine. I was just thinking about something I have not thought about... in a long time..." Under his breath, he muttered, "A very long time." Aoshi adjusted himself in his seat to face his editor head on. "Sorry, Himura."

Himura Kenshin was what one would consider a small man. He was only a little over five feet tall, but could have a commanding presence when he so chose to. His shaggy auburn hair was cut just to his chin, giving his effeminate looks a further boost. However, it never seemed to bother Kenshin, so Aoshi never mentioned it. The two had been friends since high school. Every year, as luck would have it, they would be placed in the same class. Aoshi would help Kenshin with his math, science, and history, while Kenshin had tutored him in having friends. Aoshi had never had a best friend before then. Fate once again brought the two men together, when Aoshi was on the market for an editor and agent for the book he began to write five years previous. It so happened that he stumbled upon Kenshin, who was struggling with his new firm. It would become a deal that would create an illustrious career for the both of them. From then on, Kenshin was Aoshi's editor, and he was the only person who Aoshi could really trust to been completely honest with him.

The smaller man leaned back in his chair, looking back at the chapter that Aoshi had brought. From what Aoshi could read from his editor's facial expressions, Kenshin did not look happy. "I'll be honest with you, Aoshi," Kenshin said, putting the script back on his desk before him. "This wasn't your strongest piece."

"You can only write so many trash romance novels before you start repeating the same scenarios," Aoshi replied, with an eyebrow raised. "You were the one that insisted I continue to work in this genre. I asked if I could write a mystery, you said no. I asked if I could write something historical, you said no."

Nodding, Kenshin stood up and walked over to his friend. "That's because you have a knack for heart wrenching stories, Aoshi. Your first book, She Left On A Monday, was so raw... so full of emotion. Readers couldn't get enough. Why can't you write something like that again?"

"I told you," Aoshi sighed. "I wrote that to work through a difficult period in my life. I was trying to get..." his voice broke off, not wanting to further reveal details that he had told no one, not even Kenshin.

Raising his eyebrow, Kenshin leaned in close to his friend and whispered, "So can't you make it happen again?" Sitting up, he cleared his throat and walked back over to his chair. "I have publishers fighting tooth and nail for your next book, Aoshi. I have meetings with two publishing houses next week. But I can't give them this," he held up the typed up chapter. "No one will want to buy this. Here," he tossed it back to Aoshi. "Rewrite it."

Aoshi nodded solemnly. "All right."

"Hey," Kenshin put his hand up. "Look, I'm telling this to you as a friend, Aoshi. I just want to see you stay successful."

"I know."

Smiling, Kenshin nodded. "Good. So why don't we have some breakfast?"

"I am not really hungry," Aoshi replied, getting up from his chair. "I have been up writing all night, so eating would not be the wisest thing to do. If the meeting is done, I would like to return home."

"I understand," the editor smiled again. Aoshi got up from his chair and shook hands with Kenshin. But before Aoshi exited the office, Kenshin called to him. "Oh, by the way, I heard that something about that Makimachi Misao actress that you are so fond of."

Aoshi paused, his right hand curved around the doorknob. "Oh really?"

Nodding, Kenshin continued, "Apparently she is missing. Karou-dono told me that it was reported on the news this morning. Something about how Makimachi disappeared yesterday, in the middle of filming her next movie in America."

Memories of what had happened not hours before, back at the Aoi-ya apartment complex, rushed through Aoshi's head. So she was on the lamb? Interesting. That did explain the early morning arrival and her "rough" exterior. "Really?" he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "That is too bad. I was looking forward to seeing her next film..."

"Uh... huh..." Kenshin looked his friend over, knowing something was awry.

"I will call you once I've rewritten the chapter, Himura."

"Do that," Kenshin nodded, still very suspicious. Aoshi left the office without looking back. Sitting back down in his chair, Kenshin looked at the door for a few more seconds, thinking. Then he picked up the receiver to his telephone. "Megumi-dono, can you get me Kaoru-dono on the phone please? Thank you." After a few seconds, the call connected, "Hi Kaoru-dono, it's me. Can you do me a favor? I need some more information about this Makimachi Misao."

To Be Continued...

Notes:
I do have to reiterate that I do not really like alternate universes. I've stayed as far from them as I possibly could for a very long time. However, since I chose Aoshi/Misao for my coupling in 30kisses, I've had to come to terms with my hate and bring forth this story to cover some of the more modern challenges.

Aoshi being a romance novelist is a nod to one of Tin's stories, which is now no longer available online, in which Aoshi was an author (if I remember correctly, he wrote romance novels in that too). Yes, every Aoshi/Misao story that comes from me has a nod to Tin. What can I say? I lurve her! The title comes from a Bic Runga song called, "She Left On A Monday" which personifies Aoshi and Misao's relationship so well, it's scary.

I just like mocking Aoshi's character by making him a romance novelist. It's just so... NOT him. Could you imagine Aoshi mulling over, "Hmmm... should he take her shirt off first and then caress her breasts, or caress her breast and then take off her shirt?"

This fiction was written for entertainment purposes only. The characters of Rurouni Kenshin belong to Watsuki-san. Standard disclaimers apply.