A/N: "Hidden" is a thirty-page fanfic I wrote one day when I was avoiding working on other projects. I really have no idea why I'm putting it here, except that I'm kind of proud of it. It's incomplete, and likely to remain so, mainly because it's completely plotless. You can't complete a plot when there isn't one to complete. I like the pairing of Misao and Aoshi, although I'll be the first to admit that I drag Misao OOC in this.

I am only putting up the first fifteen pages, because the other fifteen pages are explicitly lemon. If you want them, email me and I'll attach it as a .doc. I'm not bucking for getting banned for publishing them.

X

Sunny day in Kyoto. Birds. Wind in bright spring leaves. All the natural frippery that made normal people sigh and turn closed eyes towards the sun's rays, savoring the scent of cherry blossoms on the breeze.

Which was what Misao was doing. Perfectly normal. Except for the pretty kimono she was wearing, the pretty kimono that was completely unlike her regular ninja outfit. She had her hair done differently, too—Omasu must have helped her. Instead of the long braid and wild bangs, her hair was controlled in a series of glossy loops around two demure buns at the back of her neck, her bangs pulled back and held in an elaborate clip.

She hadn't noticed his approach yet. He stopped and put a hand against a wood pillar warmed by the sun, splintered with age. The early spring breeze still held a chill, and it raised gooseflesh on the exposed skin of his arm where the robe fell away.

"Omasu-chan!" Misao called, turning her face towards him without opening her eyes. "Can you tell me if my obi is tied corre—oh. Aoshi-san."

More abnormality. No –sama? Well, today was her eighteenth birthday. Perhaps that explained the kimono, the hairstyle, the sudden lack of nervous tension in her manner when she addressed him. No blush, either, and when he caught her eyes, she didn't tear hers away.

"Misao," he said. He paced towards her, stopping a few feet away from her. "What are you doing?"

"Today is my birthday, Aoshi-san," she said, smiling. "I know it's early, but Tadoko-kun wanted to show me the cherry blossoms before my big birthday feast."

"Tadoko?" –Kun? Aoshi felt his eyes begin to narrow and consciously forced his expression to remain unchanged.

"Yeah, Tadoko-kun." She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun, showing the long line of her white throat. "He's very kind to me, Aoshi-san. You should meet him. You've been away every time he's come for dinner."

Oh. That brat. Aoshi had noticed him hanging around the Aoiya, but hadn't connected the stripling's face with the name. He'd figured that the "Tadoko" who kept cropping up in conversations around the Aoiya was just a new friend of Misao's, not the kind of new friend who required a complete wardrobe change. Not the kind of friend who would hold her hand and take her to see cherry blossoms fall.

How long had this been going on, then? He longed to ask her. He was glad he was already still, with his hands behind his back, so Misao couldn't see his fists clench. Since when had she forgotten to whom she was promised? Since when had she taken back her vow to him?

Aoshi drew in a deep, level breath, regaining his calm. Whatever Misao decided to do with herself now that she was a grown woman was her own business. If, with maturity, she had looked about her and found a man better suited to her than he... well.

Reason and rationality were not helping.

"Are you going to be here tonight, Aoshi-san?" Misao asked. "I'll bring him back if you are. Please say you will be. I really want you to meet him. I've told him so much about you, he thinks you're a figment of my imagination!" She laughed, a bright waterfall. Then she gasped, "I'm going to be late! Okay, Aoshi-san, it's a promise, right?"

After a manic speech like that, his Misao normally took off running. This new Misao—to go with her new friend, Tadoko—moved quickly, but demurely, down the wooden walkway to the exit, her clogs clicking against the planks, leaving Aoshi alone.

Alone, then. She'd found someone who made her eyes bright, who wanted to show her the world the way normal people—not outdated, outcast spies—saw it. Someone to spend her birthday with, someone who'd laugh at her pretty prattle. Someone who had never killed or been unhinged by death. Someone with a strong spirit to match her own.

Aoshi turned and walked in the other direction.

X

"Aoshi-kun, you can't be going to the temple today, of all days." Okina's voice pleaded behind him. "This is an important day for Misao-chan. It would break her heart if you aren't there."

Aoshi closed his eyes. If her heart is broken, that is now someone else's problem, he thought. "My presence is not required for the day to continue. Time will pass whether I am here or not," he said.

"Aoshi! I refuse to allow you to act so callous, especially since I know why you're running away!"

Running away? Aoshi looked over his shoulder. Old Okina, still spry in spite of countless brushes with death and the countable years. "I will not fight you again, Okina," Aoshi said.

"That's not what I meant." Okina held his palm up to his forehead. "Not everything is battle and destruction, Aoshi-kun. Some things are decency and human kindness. Misao loves you, and this is a day when a young woman should be surrounded by people she loves."

Aoshi looked back towards the temple to hide the injury Okina's words did him. "I agree. Misao should be surrounded by the people she loves on this day." Not me. Not me.

Aoshi had always known that Misao adored him—but she only adored her idea of him, an infantile image of a man formed when the girl was still in swaddling cloths. Of him, Shinomori Aoshi, Misao knew little. He had purposely kept it that way after he'd brought shame upon the Oniwanbanshuu. But he'd craved that image of himself in Misao's heart; had dreamed of, one day, perhaps becoming that man in the flesh. Those days, that dream, was over. It was time to think on that and accept it.

"And you are going to the temple." Aoshi heard Okina sigh. "Misao-chan is bringing her young man here specifically to present him to you. She needs your approval. Please, Aoshi-kun—if you are not going to unveil yourself to her, at least approve of the man who will. To do less would be cruel."

Aoshi's back stiffened. Cruel? Unveil? To hide what must be hidden—that was the code of the Oniwanbanshuu, and of its commander. To be cruel... that was Aoshi's province alone. He had, time and again, been cruel to Misao.

He turned to face Okina. "You would demand this of me." It was not a question.

"I would demand it of any who would call himself a man. Meet Tadoko-san. Evaluate him with your eyes wide open. And when Misao-chan asks, give your honest, untainted answer."