Okay as angsty as this story sounds, It's actually not as dark and has a few humourous moments. (with misao in it, how can it NOT be humourous?) It just sounds dark at the beginning because Soujiro is lost in his mind. And well I wanted to test my rusty dramatic skills ^^; I've noticed over the past year or so that the number of Sou/Misao fics have gone up tremendously. *grabs soujiro plushie and hugs him* YAY! PEOPLE ARE SEEING WHAT ME AND MISAO SEE IN HIM!! *pauses* ... *runs and crawls in corner* Maybe that's not a good thing.. *hugs her plush protectively* He's mine. LOL. Okay anyway, give me a chance and if you got a moment, leave a review. I would love your input on this.

Disclaimer: I don't own RK. I dont even have a real sou plush. ;.; WAHHH! yeah so..w00t. I don't own it.


Mezamete-yuku Tamashii ~ Awakening Spirits



Kaze, itai ame, sakebi-goe, kireta ito, fuyu no sora
The winds, painful rain, shouts, severed thread, winter skies

Boku wa naze waratte 'ru no?
Why am I laughing?

I don't know

Nakushita yo
I'm just lost



Once again...it was a dark, dreary evening; the sunset would have been another wonderful site to see, well, if it wasn't for the dark clouds splashing through the sky with the roaring winds rising to hurricane tramatism. Of course, we cannot forget the rain. Ohh, the cold, wet, pelleting droplets feeling like a rain of bullets from the icy regions of the night. And the roaring sound of howling winds dominated the land with a ferocious fear sweeping across Japan, devouring the population into a spinning whirlwind of shivers scurrying and mindless phobias. Even so, the wind could not drown out the sound of the ground shaking thunder, suceeding the strobic flash of lightning that lashed out into the far regions of the early evening hours.

Even for late afternoon, the sky was as black as ebony coals, with the burning glow of electricity lighting up the inner core, creating a world of demonic weather; suitable for any of the fallen samurai warriors who once again find the timestorm of memories reviving their tired and jaded souls, reaching out to once again torture the wounded spirit, to eat at the flesh of those who survived the terrible war that had been forged in the timeline of the Japanese history. The Bakumatsu, where man pitted against man in a war for the future.

Another cackle of thunder, once again following up the flash of sparks, that act as the atmosphere's fireflies, heating up the night. Soujiro's eyes twitch, as he once again draws back to a scene of his lost, and almost seemingly forgotten past. Now filled with emotions, once forgotten, his heart was being torn in different directions...the lies that surrounded him broke away revealing the horrible truth, making those lies shrivel up and dissipate, in fear of what hurts more than the biting of a thousand serpents. The harsh truth that his master was wrong, and the guilt that comes with knowing morality, that pain belongs to the Tenken. Seta Soujiro.


The freezing pellets of rain stung his face as he stared up at the black clouds. His eyes, once a vivid blue, emotionless, were now a void, sucking in all the pain and suffering that he observes. 'Was Himura right? Of course he was. But how could this be what is right? All this pain and torment. I cannot see how he lives with it.'

His hair was matted to his face, and the smile was still there, yet it had faded a bit, and often would resemble a curved corner of his mouth. His clothing, now worn and tattered, clung to his frame, as his skin blended in with the blue material. So cold, so pale. It had been months since Soujiro had started his journey and he felt like it had been decades. He had not found one answer on his quest and the questions were beginning to eat away at his sanity. Well, what was left of it. Learning to figure things out on his own proved harder to Soujiro than any task he had ever to accomplish. And it pained him to have no one to show him the way.

Licking his chapped lips, Soujiro involuntarily shivered, finally remembering that staying outside would get him hypothermic. Well, maybe there was one thing he'd learned so far on his journey...

The strong only live if they've got the brains enough to get out of the storm.

Soujiro glanced both ways, debating on which way to go. The last town he'd passed was about five miles away. He didn't know how close he was to the next.

He decided to take a gamble and head for the next town. He wouldn't have minded using his shukuchi but the road was so wet and muddy and hole-filled (o.o?) that he didn't want to take a chance of slipping and whamming into something solid at warp speed.

Dodging knee-deep mudholes, Souijiro shielded his eyes with his shivering arm and headed further down the trail, deeper into the forest. His tabi felt frozen to his feet as he struggled to keep his footing.

"I hate Nippon's rain storms.."


Misao watched the lightning flash across the sky with a child-like fascination. She loved the rain, perceiving it as a cleansing for those who needed it.

And right now, she felt like she needed it.

She felt bad, having left the Aoiya in such a hurry, without even saying goodbye to the Oniwabanshuu. However, she needed to get away. She wanted to discover who she was. Especially after her realization.

"Aoshi is only an infatuation for me. I don't really love him."

She didn't know what made her realize it. It just happened. And so, in her realization she also discovered that she really didn't know who she was. So she packed a few items, the money she had stashed that she knew the Onii would never have believed she could save since she was always spending and darted out of there, leaving behind a note.

That was two weeks ago.

And now, she felt as lost as ever.

Oh yes, exploring and adventure was always fun, but she was lonely. And she was still failing to find the answers in which she seeked.

She looked to the wife of the couple she was staying with. She had stopped a thief from taking Naoko-san's money and in return the humble couple offered her a place to stay until she was ready to leave. Misao was very greatful. And she enjoyed their company, but it wasn't the same. She felt...empty.

"Kami-sama...give me a sign."

Suddenly, Kakuzo-san, the owner and husband of the house, bursted into the house, carrying someone in his arms. Misao couldn't really tell but the limp body looked dead.

Immediately she was called to attention. Naoko-san asked her to go grab some blankets from the bedroom. Misao dashed back, returning seconds later with the items requested.

She finally got a glance of the person clad in a blue gi and hakama. She swore he looked vaguely familiar.

She ignored her nagging thoughts as Naoko-san removed his gi. He wore a western-style shirt underneath. It too, was soaked. Misao frowned at the trembling blue lips, chapped and peeling. She was instructed to get a clean yukata and ran back to the bedroom. She came back, handed the yukata to Naoko's outstretched hand and proceeded to turn her back as the couple proceeded to get the poor boy into dry clothing.

Naoko headed into the kitchen and began to heat up some tea. Kakuzo then picked the boy up and set him in front of the fire. "Misao-chan, will you take his things to the back room?"

Misao nodded and took the boy's meager belongings from Kakuzo's hands. She then noticed a nihonto among the items. "He has a sword...even though there is a ban on them."

Kakuzo noticed her eyeing it. "It does not matter his purpose for having the weapon, child. It matters that he was in need of help."

Misao smiled at his friendly nature. Kakuzo was a large man, strong and gruff-looking but wouldn't harm a fly if he could get by with it. Naoko was a rather tall woman, with brown hair and brown eyes. Yet she too, was just as good-natured.

Misao set the items on a table and sat down beside them. She thought back to the boy. His matted hair was cut around his face and was a rich deep brown. His face looked so innocent and was almost twisted into a rather peaceful smile. Misao glanced again at his wet clothes and his sword. 'Blue gi...western shirt...why is this so familiar?'

Misao shrugged off the nag once again and left the room with the boy's items. She forced herself not to rummage through them, being the little nosy person she was and walked into the kitchen to see if Naoko needed help.

"Naoko-san?" Misao peeped as she stepped into the cozy little room.

"Yes, Misao-chan?" Naoko replied as she poured the tea into cups.

"Do you need any help?" Misao asked as she glanced around for Kakuzo.

"Ano...I don't think so, but thank you for asking, dear." She noted Misao's wandering eyes. "He went to get some more firewood. It's an awful storm out there."

Misao nodded and walked back into the main room, glancing at the boy laying on the quilt in front of the fire. The flamboyant flames reflected rosy tones onto his cheeks as he slept soundly.

Just as Naoko stepped into the room with a tray of tea, the boy began to stir. He mumbled out words that didn't make sense as he rolled onto his side.

Misao concentrated once again.

'If he were a bit smaller, with a bright smile...'

The young man slowly opened his eyes, noting his surroundings. Slowly he sat up, raising a hand to his head, running his fingers through his matted and damp hair.

'but lacking the warmth that a smile should give...'

The boy looked up and for the first time, he could remember, his smile faded and his now wide blue eyes met a sea of emerald.

Misao held her breath.

'Ice blue eyes...Tenken no Soujiro...'

A/N: Short Prologue, yes but I will have Chapter 1 up asap. I know the beginning about the bakumatsu really has nothing to do with soujiro but ya know, i really couldn't say the war in kyoto that almost took place... Honestly this sorta stinks if you ask me -_-;

I wanna thank all those who write Sou/Misao fics cuz I love 'em!!

If I haven't read yours then let me know. I'm missing out!

Review please! ^_^;

**Ignore the grammar, I do.**

Phoe-chan ^_^