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Part Two: Misao
Won't you tell him please to put on some speed
He was watching her again. After a week's worth of his silent gazing, the sensation had become excruciatingly familiar: A thrill up her spine which meant she was being observed, a bone-deep recognition of his calm presence, a sense which indicated that the someone watching was he. Caught in the middle of a reverse flip, Misao ground her teeth in annoyance. Aoshi-sama's near-constant scrutiny is nerve-wracking enough when I'm not trying to practice! Still midair, she released four kunai to fly at the target on the far side of the room. What is he trying to do to me?! She landed easily, then winced to see how her lack of focus had affected her aim: all four of the kunai had struck the target, but not a single one had hit the center. "You're not concentrating." Misao's hands clenched into fists at his calm observation, but she chose not to respond as she stalked to the target to retrieve her kunai. Who could concentrate with you staring all the time?! Already on edge, wound tight with frustration as they waited for information on Uratsuji -- the ex-oniwabanshuu had somehow eluded Toshikage -- her okashira's new-found hobby was only serving to fray her composure still further. Leaning against the wall of the practice room, Aoshi watched as Misao repeated the failed exercise. He'd learned a great deal about her over the past week, becoming expert at reading her moods and thoughts, attuned to her likes and dislikes. From the set of her back, he knew that she was fast approaching the end of her patience, and the realization filled him with satisfaction. Although a patient man, his interest in this game he'd begun had started to wane as he found himself increasingly drawn to her. Now, he could almost count the seconds until his little Misao was going to explode, and he awaited the impending fire with anticipation. His Misao. His. It was a warm, gently possessive feeling in the center of his chest, a comfortable mingling of pride, hunger, and affection. His lips twitched slightly: Maybe not comfortable. Desire, both physical and emotional, bit sharply at him as he watched her; a not unpleasant nor unwelcome discomfort, but one which begged to be assuaged. If only Misao's disposition would cooperate . . . where was the weasel girl when he needed her? Poised to launch another attack on the hapless target, Misao felt Aoshi's sudden amusement, and the last strained thread of her temper snapped. Spinning to face him, her voice did likewise. "Would you stop that?! I can't think with you staring all the time!" His expression didn't waver, but she could feel his humor increase; if he were any other man, he would have been laughing. "What's so funny?!" Tilting his head slightly to the side, he answered her truthfully. "You." His reply made her palms itch for her kunai, her typical response to extreme irritation. While time had increased the length of her patience, it had done little to alter how she reacted under pressure. "Atashi?! You think it's funny that I don't want to be watched all the time?!" "Aa." He kept his eyelids lowered to disguise the pleasure alight within. Misao reminded herself that she really didn't want to turn her beloved Aoshi-sama into a pincushion -- no matter how much he was asking for it. "It's distracting, trying to concentrate with someone constantly looking over your shoulder!" Stepping away from the wall, he paced slowly toward her. "You get used to it," he responded dryly. She froze, mouth open to deliver an angry retort, a blush creeping over her face as she realized what he meant. A heartbeat later her jaw tightened as a second realization followed on the heels of the first: He's been doing it on purpose! The kunai were in her hands before she'd completed the thought, arcing toward him as she gave an angry scream. Sidestepping slightly, Aoshi plucked the small darts from the air as easily as Kamatari once had. His manner almost casual, he half-turned to throw them at the target. Eyes wide as her mind caught up with her actions, her scream cut off by anxious hands, Misao didn't even need to look to know they'd landed in the center. Kami-sama, what did I just do? She gulped as he resumed his progress toward her -- although he didn't seem angry, with him it was hard to tell. "Go . . . gomenasai! I didn't mean for that to happen!" Aoshi merely raised an eyebrow. He'd been expecting such an attack from the moment of her first outburst. Backing away, her steps apace with his approach, Misao sought to distract him. "Wh-why have you been watching me? To teach me a lesson?" He inclined his head slightly. "Among other things." The wall close behind her, she stopped. "Wh-what other things?" Scant inches between them he halted as well, reaching out to take the end of her braid in his hand. "I wanted to learn about you," he answered, brushing the inky black strands against his cheek as he spoke. "To learn what makes you happy, and what makes you sad." She bit her lip, her expression hopeful and uncertain at the same time. "What makes you nervous . . ." holding her eyes with his, he wound the silken rope of her hair around his fist, drawing nearer as he did so, ". . . and what makes you breathless." Leaning in, his arms bracketing her head, his weight braced against his hands, he kissed her. Ardent and assertive, it was everything Misao had anticipated, if not what she had expected. His tongue slipped between her lips to partake of her sweetness, laying claim to her mouth, his hand tugging gently on her hair to adjust the angle of contact. Twining her arms around his neck, she strained upwards on her toes, fighting a sudden urge to wrap her legs about his waist. Unable to resist for long, she braced her weight against the wall behind her and nimbly wound her limbs around him, letting his strong frame support her. With a low sound of appreciation, he stepped into her dual embrace, earning an answering sigh as he pressed closer. Her hold tightened to keep him there, her ankles locking together at the small of his back, her fingers tangling in the rough silk of his hair. "Say my name," he murmured, drawing back slightly, his lips hovering just above hers. "Aoshi-sama," she breathed, eyes closed as she floated in contentment. Uttering a low sound of negation he kissed her silent, then asked her again. "Aoshi-sa-" she began, his mouth stopping the words before she'd completed the honorific. Understanding what he wanted, she smiled into his kiss. "Aoshi," she sighed when he asked her once more, "Aoshi." This time the caress of his lips on hers was a reward, satisfaction rumbling low in his throat. Dark lashes fluttered open when finally he released her, her blue eyes searching his face. "Doushite?" she whispered, fingertips delicately tracing the firm line of his mouth. His lips quirked into a smile beneath her touch. "I opened my eyes," he answered, voice hushed, "and allowed myself to realize what I was seeing." His tongue flickered out to tease her fingers, coaxing them inside where he could nibble gently at the tips. Misao smiled tremulously, not entirely certain what he was telling her, but unwilling to complain about the results of his revelation. "Why didn't you say some-something?" she asked, her breath catching as he suckled gently on her slender fingers. Fascinated by the sensations he was stirring, her mouth curved into a disappointed pout when he relinquished them. "Because you," he whispered, bending to brush his nose against hers, "are adorable when you're angry." She blinked in astonishment. "Shikashi," he continued, his lips now at her ear, "if you ever throw kunai at me again, Misao-mine," she shivered with pleasure at the stroke of warm breath on sensitive nerves, the way he said her name, "I'll spank you." She hesitated a surprised second before breaking into delighted laughter, her hands fisting in the material of his shirt, her legs tightening around his waist. "Spank me? I'm not a little girl anymore, okashira-san," she teased, "you'll have to think of some other punishment." Definitely not a little girl, he agreed fervently, alternately soothed and aroused by the press of her womanly curves against his chest and thighs. "Mmmm," he took her earlobe between his teeth and bit gently, "what do you think would instill the proper respect?" "Eeto," Misao swallowed a moan, her body tingling all over, "eeto, you could threaten not to kiss me." It was the most daunting possibility she could think of at the moment. He chuckled at the suggestion, and she felt unexpected tears prick her eyes at the welcome sound -- how long has it been since I've heard him laugh? "Why," he asked, feathering kisses against her parted lips, "should I punish myself?" No reason, she answered silently, her hands sliding up his chest to thread through his hair, absolutely no reason. "Okashira!" Aoshi groaned his annoyance into Misao's mouth, still hungrily seeking his fill of her when the distant voice intruded long moments later. Her clasp tightened, an unspoken request for him to ignore whoever was calling. Murmuring agreement, he settled against her once more, his tongue slipping between her lips to court hers. "Okashira!" Insistent, accompanied by the dull pounding of footsteps, the voice was coming closer. Aoshi raised his head reluctantly, his withdrawal prompting a soft sound of protest from Misao. "Gomenasai," he soothed, his hand finding her knee and gently coaxing it down from his hip, "someone's coming." She mewled pleadingly in response, but her legs were already falling away, leaving him feeling somehow bereft. Stepping back a space, he let her braid slip from his hand and wrist, missing the silky feel of it as he brought his hands to her waist to steady her. Misao blinked, dazed to realize that he had yet to embrace her, his arms having supported both of them through the entire exchange. She blushed, knowing it was silly to feel cheated, also knowing how easily he would read the tangle of her embarrassed emotions. Surprisingly, his hands tightened, bringing her close for just an instant. "Next time," he promised, bending his head to let his lips brush her ear, "Next time, Misao-mine." His eyes shone with affection and pleased amusement in his otherwise impassive face. "Hai, okashira-san," she teased, rising up on her toes to place a kiss on his chin, certain that there would be a next time, "I'll hold you to that." She stepped away a heartbeat before Shiro appeared in the open doorway. "Okashira!" Shiro announced, "Toshikage has located Uratsuji!" Index of Japanese terms:
Explanation of Japanese names:
Author's notes:
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