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Sundial: Chapter 2 - Shikijo

by Angrybee ::: 11.Jan.2004

"Shinomori!"

"Yes?"

"Wake up! You are in danger!"

My hand slams down on the futon and one second later, my kodachi sheath flies across the room. I jolt up, prepared to fight, but can't see my enemy. My eyes are blurry. Wait. No. It's just my bangs in my face. Alright then, nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the fact that my heart is pounding so hard I feel like my chest is going to explode, everything is as it should be.

I have to stop waking up like this.

I hear a metallic clatter echo in the room from the direction of the shoji.

What in the hell was that?

Turning my head, and shaking my hair into a more reasonable situation, one wherein I can -see-, I find Misao standing by the sliding door, the contents of a breakfast tray at her feet. Her eyes are open wide with shock.

Oh. It's only Misao.

Misao?! Why is Misao in my room? Why is she looking at me like...

Besides the fact that she just saw me go from sleeping to holding a kodachi in front of my chest in less time then it would take Seta Soujirou to shukuchi across the Aoiya courtyard, I can not fathom what would cause her to...

I'm not wearing a shirt, am I?

Just pretend everything is normal, Shinomori. Misao is not going to bring up the fact that your skin is littered with scars. Her repulsion caused her to drop the tray, but she has enough tact to cover. She's not going to say anything. Breathe, Shinomori, breathe. What are you doing? Don't pull the covers up over yourself -now-. Just act like nothing -happened-. What am I thinking? Nothing -did- happen. She's the one who barged into my room.

Say something, already!

"Misao." I have my pants on, right? Right. Okay, good. I must have not bothered to put my sleeping yukata on after visiting the kitchen last night. That seems like a logical explanation. So, then it's settled. Everything makes sense. Except for...

"What are you doing in here, Misao?"

Misao shuffles her feet a bit and then bends down to pick some of the items up off of the floor. "The doctor said you should eat... I was bringing breakfast, Aoshi-sama."

"I ate last night."

Okay. No. You're not going to do this anymore, Shinomori. You can't just eat once. The whole point is to continue eating on a regular basis. Taking care of yourself is what Hyotokko wanted. While you are at it, you might consider bathing, too.

Hm. But, my hair smells like incense from the temple.

Please focus. I attempt to pull myself together. This situation screams volatility. Misao's ki is reverberating with fear. Fear! But, then, can I really blame her? I'm constantly surprised that she doesn't exhibit more paranoia when in my presence.

Misao leaves to fetch a towel to clean up some spilled miso, and I have a moment of reprieve.

Wait. Was there a doctor? I don't recall that part. If there was a doctor, then probably...

Kami-sama, the whole Aoiya knows that I fainted.

Okina is going to want to talk to me. Everyone is going to start asking me if I'm "feeling better". Misao is going to worry and blame herself for not looking after me.

I need a plan of action. I'm an essentially organized man. I did lead the Oniwabanshu in guarding Edo castle. We were terrifyingly efficient. And, it isn't as easy of a job as you might think. Spies and assassins constantly wanted to get within those walls.

I kept them out.

I'm good at keeping people outside the walls.

Misao returns and busies herself wiping up the floor. She's still afraid, I can tell, but, it seems like she's even more scared than when she left. Why?

"I brought some plums from the kitchen, Aoshi-sama. They're really pretty good. Okon bought them yesterday." She stands and walks over beside my futon, holding out one of the aforementioned fruits.

Her bottom lip quivers slightly as she watches me, watching her.

Take the fruit, Shinomori.

I do so, and Misao steps back. She almost stumbles backward.

She's silent as I bite into the plum. Eating in bed, not exactly a civilized affair, but Misao doesn't seem to mind my breach of etiquette. Misao twists the rag in her hands, quietly looking around my room, as if she'd never been in here before.

Wait. Misao is being -very- quiet.

She's hardly ever quiet. And she's almost visibly shaking. Surely, surely, this doesn't have to do with me. I'm obviously fine now, so she should be getting -less- upset instead of -more- upset. Unless this is some sort of woman thing that I just can't understand.

"What's wrong, Misao?"

Misao looks like I just punched her in the face. But, she recovers quickly. "Nothing, Aoshi-sama. I was just thinking that maybe you should stay in bed today. I can bring you food and some of your books from the library..."

I watch her twist that rag so hard that drops of soaked up miso fall onto the floor. She's hiding something from me.

I cut her off mid-babble. "What are you hiding?"

Misao examines her toes.

"What. Are. You. Hiding. Misao?"

A glint of a tear forms in Misao's right eye. She looks away from me.

Why would Misao hide something from me? Of all the people in the Aoiya, she's the only one brave enough to try to talk to me every day. She tells me everything, even when I don't want her to, even when I'm not really listening. Why would Misao, of all people...

A bloodcurdling scream echoes through the halls of the Aoiya.

I'm immediately up. I snatch my shirt from where I'd discarded it last night on the floor. I yank my trenchcoat off the wall so forcibly that the hook comes with it, clattering onto the floor.

Sundial. Check.

Kodachis...

I turn around in an attempt to find the shorter of my two kodachis and the sheath. I'm fairly certain they were just right here. They land in the same spot every time...

Where?

Misao's hands are behind her back. That sneaky little...

I grab Misao's upper arm and twist until she's forced to turn around. Yes. She has my kodachi behind her back, her tiny little hands curled so tightly around the sheath that they are white from lack of blood. "Let go of it, Misao."

She doesn't.

I don't have time for this. My world is apparently on a train to disaster in the form of complete chaos.

A moan pierces the air from beyond my shoji, ending in heavy sobs.

I dig my thumb into the joints between two of Misao's fingers. She has to release, or suffer a broken hand. Misao opts for the former.

I sheath my kodachi as I am speeding down the hall.

Of course, this would be the time that my dead friends show up. Hannya is running beside me, and I can hear Shikijo's footfalls at my back. I assume Beshimi is on his shoulders.

Hyotokko is...not here.

"What's going on?" Hannya asks.

'I don't know. Something is wrong. Something is -very- wrong.'

I reach the courtyard within seconds. Almost immediately, I'm faced with an unbelievable sight. There's blood. I can see it, and I can smell it. Bloody cloth litters the area, as if tossed aside with great haste.

Kuro and Shiro are standing over two figures I can't make out, both of which look like they've just emerged from the bloodiest battle of the Bakumatsu. Okina is at their feet, unwinding a long strip of bandages.

No. Those bloody figures are women.

Okon and Omasu.

I'm going to kill someone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I don't remember my parents. Now, some people may try to convince you that this is a sad thing, but I am mostly indifferent. How can I long for what I never knew? I've never had a puppy, either. Big deal.

The first thing I -do- remember is the Temple of the Five Clouds. At times, so silent, like falling into a dark, safe chasm. And then, filled with noise, as the other orphans played in the yard. The monks were men of extraordinary wisdom and patience. And yet, they smiled such simple smiles, and laughed at every passing butterfly the children chased.

They tried to give us good, strong names. Names that would increase our chances in the world. Names of beauty and fortitude. To me they gave the flower "Shinomori Aoshi". It means: Four forest trees, palest purple.

Quite a nice scene, I believe. It was in such a scene, supposedly, that the monks found me. It still remains a mystery as to how I came to be in that grove. Was I abandoned? Did my parents tell me to run from some horrific violence? Did I merely wander away from my home?

They never knew. The monks took me in, and no one ever came to claim me. I was three years old.

Times, as they ever seem to be, were hard. The Temple struggled to keep all mouths fed. I am sure there were nights when some of the monks fasted in order to be sure that we children had food.

They worked hard to keep our bodies, and minds, healthy. I was best at learning to read and write, and absolutely the worst at meditation. I didn't understand. Why close your eyes and attempt to clear your mind to try to shut out the awesome beauty of the world? The birds above, defying gravity, the knots on a shoot of bamboo, the way the water rippled when hit by the breeze, as if shivering...why would anyone want to leave that behind?

And then the ninjas came. Of course, I did not know they were ninjas then. We lived far in the forest, away from the news and chatter of the city. In my mind, they were merely friends of the monks, strong men to whom even the Abbot bowed low. I asked Brother Seiki who they were, and he told me that they were warriors which had once protected the temple from destruction, and that the monks owed them a great debt. They had needed a place to stay on their way home from battle, so they had stopped at the temple for rest.

Their leader was a man who commanded incredible respect merely by his presence. I must say, I was quite taken with him. He had these -huge- hands that looked like they were made of wood, and giant shoulders like great granite rocks. When he meditated, he looked like a sleeping mountain.

The Abbot called me into his office one afternoon, and the leader of the warriors was there, too.

"Aoshi-chan, this is Okashira Iwayama. You know that times are hard for us here, and that food is scarce. But, the Okashira has agreed to give some of the children a new home in the city. It is your choice to go, or to stay. I will not force you to leave, for you must know that we cherish you here. But, if you will trust me, I think that Okashira Iwayama can help you learn skills that will make you into a fine man, one worthy of such a name as Shinomori Aoshi."

And so, I went. But, I was not the only child leaving the temple that day. Two girls, both younger than me, were also chosen. I know that I was asked to go because a growing boy eats quite a bit. But, with the girls, I suspect, the monks were worried that they would not have the knowledge to properly raise young women.

So I left the temple at age eight, along with Okon, two years my younger, and Omasu, age three.

I can't say I've ever known them well. But, in my mind's eye, they are ever-present figures, shadows which always have existed on the periphery. Cooking. Doing laundry. Training. Omasu doing little Misao's hair. Okon showing Misao-chan how to tie her obi.

Omasu screaming upon finding a mouse in the kitchen.

Okon's never-ending stream of suitors.

I suspect I've always considered them permanencies, like the Aoiya. Like the Oniwabanshuu itself.

Something which belongs to me, like my kodachis...

Like my sundial.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Our Okon..." Shikijo whispers, "Our little Omasu..."

"What happened?" Hannya and I both ask the question at the same time. Fortunately, mine is the only voice which can be heard.

Okina doesn't look up from his task of putting Okon's arm in a sling. Ah. So, that was the scream I heard. He was setting the bone. Kuro and Shiro are quietly washing Okon and Omasu's bloodied and battered faces, trying to wrap clean towels around their shoulders to keep them from shivering, since both of them are sitting in only their breast bindings and some underskirts.

Who would do this?

"They were lucky to escape." Misao's voice comes from behind me, "They were attacked on their way home from the market, taken to a warehouse, and beaten. The men..." Misao grabs the sleeve of my trenchcoat between her thumb and forefinger, tugging gently, as if she had the idea of trying to lead me away, but just couldn't go through with it. "The men were asking about the Oniwabanshuu, and..."

Okon and Omasu look like zombies, sitting there hardly moving. Omasu's left eye is swollen shut, a giant purple welt growing on the side of her face.

"Asking about the Oniwabanshuu...and what?"

"And, about you, Aoshi-sama."

About me? But, why? Did I kill someone during that time... Is this revenge? Or, is this something else?

"Where?"

Misao says nothing. Why does she always have to be so stubborn?

"WHERE, MISAO?" I can't believe I just raised my voice. It sounded so loud, so horribly loud.

"The abandoned fish packing house down by the pier. But, if you're going, Aoshi-sama, then I'm going too."

"Okashira," Hannya says. Okashira? They only call me by my title when we're on a mission. "Permission to investigate."

"Yes. Send me, as well, Okashira," Shikijo implores.

I turn around, searching Shikijo's lifeless face. "No. You never were a very successful spy. Hannya should go."

The arctic drop in temperature comes from Misao's ki. A grimly determined look on her face melts away to utter desolation, followed by severe confusion.

I really have to stop talking to ghosts.

"But..."

Oh no.

"Aoshi-sama..."

Oh, Kami-sama, no, don't...

"Hannya is..."

Please don't say it...

"Dead."

I've got to get out of here -right- now. I brush past Misao, only vaguely hearing her calling after me as I walk briskly down the corridor, jump the stairs, and exit the Aoiya.

I can hear them behind me. Breathing their last. The gunfire. The terrible smell that filled Kanryuu's ballroom. Gunpowder and gore.

"Okashira..."

The word runs up my spine, causing me to quicken my pace.

The street is overly bright. The sun. I can't see where I am going. I bump into someone waiting in line for the Aoiya to open.

She's dead. Her face is grey and her mouth twisted into a scream of horror. Her arms flit out to catch me, and to at the same time, keep herself from falling. But, I dodge. I spin. The attempt to change direction is futile, I run into someone else. Dead. Flesh hangs from his bones, as if he had been caught in a horrific conflagration that melted his skin.

Men. Women. Children. All dead. Everyone is dead. They watch me with empty eyes. Accusing. Judging.

"You're the reason your friends died," a little boy carrying a bunch of withered radishes says.

'No, I...'

A woman holding dead baby speaks up, "Those you murdered after leaving Kanryuu's mansion beg for your destruction. Give them what they want."

'Please, I'm not the same...'

"You betrayed the Oniwabanshuu, you betrayed your family." I spin around. I'm not even certain who is talking anymore.

'I did, but I can change...'

They are closing in on me. The entire throng of ghosts speak in unison. "You're the reason Okon and Omasu were hurt."

'No...' I stumble backwards, only to find my arms caught by the cold, dead hands of one of the market's vendors.

"Yes. You heard what Misao said. Have you ever done anything which didn't bring pain to others, Shinomori Aoshi? You're a demon. Born without mother or father. The monks knew. They had to get rid of you. Why do you think you were so accomplished at such a young age? From whence do you think all this strength comes?"

I'm running now. I don't know where. The city of Kyoto is flying past. I have to get away from them. They know everything. They see everything. But, no matter where I run, their voices follow me.

"Everyone will be hurt..."

Oh, Kami-sama, I wish my dead friends were here. Anything is better...anything is better than this world. I dive into an alleyway, cowering behind a bin of refuse.

"The only way to save them is to kill yourself, Shinomori Aoshi."

'No. Himura said...'

"Himura? Himura is a fool. He can not escape our wrath, only delay it. You're both going to the same hell."

'Beshimi...'

"Call for your dead friends. They can't help you."

'Hannya...Shikijo...'

"No one can save you..."

'Anyone. Please...'

"You are damned."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It is true what I said about Shikijo. He never was a very good spy. And that is the fact which brought him into the employ of the Oniwabanshuu.

As I have said, Shikijo possesses a gentle nature. His ability to empathize with others always struck me as a strange contradiction to his immense strength.

But, it made him a formidable lieutenant for the Ishin Shishi. He always knew the moods of his men, what plagued their minds, what made them smile. And, because of this, his men trusted him completely. They won many battles, and had enviable success during the Bakumatsu.

Very enviable.

So much so that it made other squads look bad. A conspiracy formed around Shikijo. The other lieutenants sought to get him removed, or if possible, killed.

And they found their chance. When it became necessary for a spy to infiltrate Edo Castle to steal some plans about upcoming battles, all the lieutenants recommended Shikijo for the job.

"He's the best. Never defeated!" they would say.

"Such an important task can only be given to Shikijo-san," they'd declare.

And, of course, Shikijo's superiors ended up choosing him. The problem lays in the fact that Shikijo is a warrior, not a spy. His bulky size makes it incredibly hard for him to slide around unseen within the shadows. And his impressive ki was like a beacon to the Oniwabanshuu stationed at Edo Castle.

He waylaid several of my men as he stormed through the halls, not even attempting to hide himself. I suppose Shikijo was resigned to do the deed, or to die trying.

He and I fought. His strength was formidable, and I even ended up worrying for a few moments that I might have met my match. But, in the end, I was able to defeat the invader.

My duty was to dispatch him. But, as I looked into his eyes, and saw behind the defiant warrior a much deeper man, I decided against it.

So, I said: "To kill someone whose strength is so extraordinary would be regrettable. Come to the Oniwabanshuu."

And in the end, he did. We covered up the incident, and welcomed him into our ranks with the promise to help him become so much stronger.

It was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

And yet, I know it pained Shikijo to make the decision. He always felt that he had betrayed the Ishin Shishi. He had left his men behind to join the Oniwabanshuu. My friend didn't seem to understand that the Ishin Shishi betrayed him -first- by sending him to his death at Edo Castle.

Years later, I found him in the Aoiya courtyard, little Misao curled up in his lap, asleep. Shikijo was always best at getting Misao to calm down and nap. I'd watched him do it a few times, and it always amazed me. He'd put her on his knee, and talk to her in his low voice, telling her stories of old, and the next thing you knew, Misao-chan would be snoring.

Yes. Misao snores. It sounds, believe it or not, exactly like a chittering weasel.

"She wore herself out." Shikijo whispered as I approached. "But, only would sleep in my lap. Our little weasel can be quite demanding."

I nodded as I sat next to him underneath the large tree by where we practiced. A fine day, I remember. Not a cloud in the sky. And the air was just a breath warmer than chilly, the kind of temperature that makes you forget the torment of hot and cold days altogether.

We would sit like this often, he and I. Neither of us had much need for words. I'd meditate, and he'd watch Misao-chan sleep. Sometimes it is good to have friends with which you can just sit quietly, without need for constant conversation.

But, then, some minutes later, I heard Shikijo say, "Her sleep is so untroubled, so lacking in worry or regret. I hope it is always such a way for Misao-chan."

I opened by eyes, but didn't turn my head to look at him. "And your sleep?"

"Mine is..." Shikijo trailed off with a rumbling sigh. "Tell me, Aoshi-sama, aren't you worried that someday I will betray you, just as I betrayed the Ishin Shishi?"

"No." Frankly, the thought really hadn't crossed my mind.

"Why not? If I were you, I'd be worried. Once a man becomes a traitor, he can never be trusted again."

I plucked a blade of grass and began to tear it apart, but by bit. In retrospect, I suppose I just can't go a day without destroying -something-. "You won't betray the Oniwabanshuu because I will never allow you to have a reason to do so. We are more than just a gathering of ninjas, the Oniwabanshuu is your family. You take care of your family." I glanced over at little Misao curled up in Shikijo's lap. She twitched lightly and batted at a ladybug that had landed on her cheek. "Take care of your family, and they will take care of you. You, my friend, are not the sort of man to betray your family."

A faint chuckle from Shikijo woke Misao from her nap. Her little arms stretched up and encircled his muscular neck. "Shikijo-nisan," she said through a yawn, "I want strawberries."

"Yes, Misao-chan, after dinner, hm?"

Now, I know that at the time the Aoiya did not keep such fruits in stock. And, in fact, I hadn't seen them in the marketplace for weeks due to the fact that the strawberry season in Shizouka had come to and end. But, I swear that after dinner, I saw Misao on the engawa with a bowl of the reddest, ripest strawberries I have ever seen.

"Shikijo got them for me," she said.

Bewildered, I turned and headed down the hallway, only to run into Shikijo hiding behind a post. He just shrugged, and with a chuckle, turned back to watching Misao from the shadows as she ate the strawberries.

He had the biggest grin I've ever seen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Okashira."

I open my eyes to find my dead friends all standing in the alleyway, peering at me as if I am crazy. Great. Now even the -ghosts- think I am insane.

Beshimi is laying on the roof, his head leaning back to give himself an upside-down view of the world. I swear, the man's feet hardly ever touch the ground. "When I find out who did that to Okon and Omasu, I'm going to put them in a pit with a thousand scorpions. And that is just for -starters-."

Shikijo looks horribly uncomfortable. He keeps shifting his weight from right to left, flexing his hands over and over. If he weren't so incredibly -dead-, I'd be worried that he'd tear up half of Kyoto tonight in an attempt to find the culprit.

"We'd best hit the old fish market, Okashira," Hannya says, "Before they come back to clean up any evidence they might have left behind.

"Aa." I stand up and check myself briefly. Well, I'm a little dirty. I might have fallen down back there, once or twice. I don't remember.

We head through the streets of Kyoto towards the old fish market. On the way, recalling Hyotokko's advice, I pick up a bit of food. Strawberries, actually. Believe it or not, I'd never had them before. I can see why Misao likes them so much, but they are a bit too sweet for me. I attempt to eat and walk at the same time, a complicated affair, since I think people who eat while walking look moronic. If you can't sit down for a meal, you shouldn't eat. I think the monks told me that. They were big on doing -one- thing at a time. The monks from the Temple of the Five Clouds would hate the city, I'm fairly certain.

We arrive at the warehouse without incident. No one tries to talk to me, and except for the usual ghosts, I don't hallucinate anything particularly riveting.

Inside, the place still smells of turned salmon and salt. But, over that, there is the musty smell of years of disuse. There isn't much here of note. Old equipment rotting and rusting away, some barrels containing brine, a dinghy that looks like it ran into an iceberg. Nothing.

"Okashira, I found something."

I follow Hannya's voice and end up in a hidden alcove behind stacks of wooden crates. There are drops of dried blood here, spattered on the ground, and on the nearby wall.

Brutal. Whomever did this has no empathy, no morals, and a soul so black even the fires of hell couldn't shed light on it.

Considering that I am a man much like that description, I'm betting I'll be able to find the culprit without much trouble.

And then I see it. Written in Okon and Omasu's blood, someone has used their finger to draw a word in kanji on one of the wooden crates:

Shinomori.

I sink down, sitting on one of the nearby barrels. They were looking for me. It is true. Okon and Omasu were hurt, and it should have been me. I'm wretched, a fiery abomination that walks through this land, burning everything nearby. First my friends, then Okina, and now Okon and Omasu.

Who's next? Kuro and Shiro? Misao?

I lean forward, grabbing my bangs with my hands, pulling my hair in an attempt to get my mind to focus on the pain, rather than how much I want to kill myself.

My hair. It smells like incense from the temple. The thought would be refreshing, if it didn't remind me why I had been spending so much time in the temple in the first place.

"Aoshi-sama, your sleep has been troubled."

I look up to find Shikijo sitting on the crate across from mine. I can't help but stare at his knees. He has gigantic knees. Like boulders. In all the times he had Misao asleep on his lap, I never noticed how, with just one move, he could have crushed her.

"Aa. Troubled," I whisper, wondering if Shikijo can read my mind. My eyes dart right and left, and to my mild surprise, Hannya and Beshimi are missing.

Shikijo seems to be glowing, almost vibrating, like a candle caught in a staccato breeze. Even if I wanted to get up and walk out, I feel like my entire body has been glued to this barrel. I can't escape what Shikijo wants to say to me, even if I am pretty certain I don't want to hear him say it.

"Did you betray your family, Aoshi-sama?"

I look down at my feet. I feel like a child, like the child I never was, waiting to be scolded for something I should have known better than to do. Finally, I find my voice, though dry, and say, "Aa, Shikijo, I did."

"That's strange. You're not the sort of man to betray your family." He sits there for a long time, silently, pondering what I have said, I suppose. "When I betrayed the Ishin Shishi, you gave me a second chance. So, Aoshi-sama, I'll give you a second chance to prove you truly care for your family."

"But, Shikijo..." Do I even have a voice anymore? My throat can't be much larger around than a grain of rice with this giant lump in it. "What if I don't know how? What if I fail? What if I fail them again, Shikijo?"

He chuckles, and I'm able to feel that giant rumble of his chest all the way over here. "You won't fail, Aoshi-sama. Take care of your family, and they will take care of you."

I look up to find Shikijo smiling, his grin so broad it reminds me of that time I caught him spying on Misao.

The look in his eyes tells me goodbye, but his lips say, "I'll see you sometime, Aoshi-kun. Look after my family for me, until then."

And then Shikijo is gone...for good.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When I get back to the Aoiya, I'm covered in sweat and in an irascible mood. Of all the places someone could choose to live, why there? You would not believe what I went through after leaving the abandoned fish market.

The night air makes things even worse, causing my uniform to stick to my arms, and my trenchcoat to feel like it is made of iron.

I have to wonder how -he- does it.

Yes. I definitely need a bath. At this rate, even Misao won't talk to me any more due to the smell. But, I have something to do before I can indulge in such things.

I walk past Misao's room, noting from the snoring that she is asleep. There is light burning in Okina's office, and Kuro and Shiro were closing up the restaurant. I hear heavy footsteps behind me, causing me to consider rolling my eyes.

Instead, I say, "Just wait here."

I rap gently on the shoji of Okon and Omasu's shared room. They're up, I know, because I can hear them talking in low tones to one another. "Who is it?"

I shift my weight. Speaking with the living really does prove such a bother. "Aoshi."

"Oh? Oh! Come in, Aoshi-sama!"

Inside, I find both the ladies laying on their futons. Okon is propped up with a stack of pillows, her arm laying in a sling. Omasu is holding a piece of meat against her face.

They look...amusing, but, a lot better.

Both of the ladies look at me, expectantly. But, I'm looking at their room. I don't think I've ever been in here before. Their ninja uniforms are folded neatly and placed on top of a counter. I'd never thought about it before, but I guess one of them brings a clean uniform to my room every day while I'm meditating at the temple. Well, that mystery is solved.

And it smells like baked apples in here. Why doesn't my room smell like baked apples?

"Can we help you with anything, Aoshi-sama?" Okon asks. Right. She looks like she couldn't help -herself- into the bath right about now. "Or have you come to attempt to speed us to our demise?"

I grit my teeth. I'm fairly certain she didn't ask me that, and even if she did, I wouldn't dignify it with a response. "I came..." Think, Shinomori, think. How do other people do this? "...to check on you."

"We're okay," Omasu says, smiling through her bruises, "It scared us, mostly. But, we're tough. We'll be up and throwing customers out of the Aoiya in no time. Don't worry."

Worry. Yes. I was a little worried. Only a little. Alright. More than a little.

"You should sleep," I propose.

Okon shakes her head. "No, we slept all day. We're done with sleeping."

"Ah." I'm standing here like an idiot, trying to figure out my next move. How can I make them understand that I really do appreciate all they do for me, for the Aoiya, for all of us? I'm just not skilled enough in that sort of emotional gushing. "In that case, do you mind another visitor?"

Okon and Omasu look at me like I am crazy. Which, I suppose, is a fair assessment of my current mental state. I move aside, nodding at the person I spent all afternoon to fetch.

"Ladies," Hiko Seijuro announces, blustering past me with the aplomb of an Emperor entering his court, "I've come bearing the best medicine there is. Sake, sake, and more sake."

Hiko-sama!!!" Okon and Omasu both squeal.

"Say now, Shinomori said you were both beat up. Sounds like you should hire a certain Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu master and accomplished potter as a bodyguard."

Okon and Omasu are still squealing as I quietly slide the shoji closed. I don't know what those two see in that man, but their faces sure do light up when he walks in the room. Just seeing that was worth the trouble of going all the way up that mountain and dragging the old bastard back to the Aoiya.

I guess I finally understand why Shikijo could spend a whole evening watching Misao eat strawberries.

Speaking of which...

I walk over to the shoji of Misao's room. Sliding it open just enough to catch a brief glimpse of Misao's sleeping face contorted into a fierce looking scowl, I bend down and place the basket of strawberries on the floor.

She'll enjoy them more than I ever would.

But, what I -would- enjoy right now...

Is a bath.