Sakura Kisses

Standard disclaimer applies...I own nothing, I make no money...blah, blah, blah.

Author's Notes:

Another notoriously short chapters...forgive please. Then again, I am updating less than a week later...take what you can get people;)This chapter is fraught with OOC but, hey, I'm the author and it's MY story and I prefer to see this as character development.

I'm still a review whore...so keep it coming. I also want to thank those who actually took the time to review this story. Thanks a bunch! It helps to know what it is you enjoy about this story and what I could work on or what I can correct.

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Kyoto

Aoshi sat, silently contemplating the near empty cup of tea in his hands. He let the sweet, perfumed scents of his surroundings wash over him as his mind worked over the conundrum that was Misao Makimachi and scowled as he found himself no closer to an answer than he’d ever been.

“Shinomori-sama, would you like me to warm your tea?” A sweet, soft voice whispered into his ear. A gentle smile bloomed across lips painted a deep red, when the man didn’t answer, “Shinomori-sama?”

Aoshi turned his head at the gentle prod and almost seemed surprised to find himself not alone. Delicately arched brows lifted in amusement at the confusion and the almost hunted look in the usually stoic man’s eyes, “Are you alright, Shinomori-sama? You seem a little…preoccupied today.”

A rueful smile graced the man’s lips, “I suppose I am, Midori, just a little.”

Midori Nakajima, courtesan and one time Shinobi informer, laughed and nodded her raven head, “Yes, just a “little”. Is it anything I could be of assistance with?”

Aoshi considered the request as he studied the beautiful courtesan. Cool, elegant, subtly painted features with expressive golden brown eyes. A halo of shiny, black hair arranged elaborately but designed to come quickly undone with the removal of one well-placed comb. Lush body wrapped in a red, silk juban tied simply at the slim waist with a gold obi. The entire look was made to give the impression of beddable grace and it was a look that worked well for Aoshi’s favorite at the Lotus House.

“Shinomori-sama?” Midori queried, once again conveying her amusement with a simple lift of her brow.

Aoshi shook his head to the negative, feeling it somehow wrong to discuss an innocent maiden with a whore. He felt a small pang of guilt as he thought of Midori in those terms. He was fond of her in his way, remembering her loyalty to him and his delight in her intelligence and wit especially since the relationship the two of them now shared involved the pleasure of each others company more than pleasures of the flesh. Aoshi’s weekly visits were designed to give Midori a reprieve from carnal affairs and allowing her one night to do nothing more strenuous than pour tea, play games of strategy, and engage in conversation or debate. Only at rare times, did Aoshi ask for the comfort of her woman’s body; he was still a man with a man’s needs after all.

“Shinomori-sama, I heard that Misao-san has gone to Tokyo.” Midori broached the subject gently having some small idea of what was on Aoshi’s mind. She hid a smile as the hunted look returned to the deep blue eyes.

“Where did you hear that?” Aoshi asked, a frown deepening the crease around his mouth.

“Okon,” Midori answered with a small shrug, “was it suppose to be a secret?”

Once again, Aoshi shook his head. Feeling encouraged Midori continued on, “I see her very rarely, Misao-san, I mean but she has grown into quite a lovely young woman, do you not think?”

Aoshi grunted and taking it as agreement, “She has many suitors, does she not? I heard that the butcher’s son, Hidaki, has taken to coming around the Aoiya more.”

“Does he?” Aoshi asked ominously, trying to picture the bastard of a butcher’s son who dared to stalk “his” Misao.

“Oh, yes and, Daisuke, the potter’s son. Then, I heard that even the potter, Takaya, has been casting eyes her way. Guess he’s looking for wife number three. I can just imagine the warfare between father and son as they compete for the same woman. It’s just so amusing.” Midori laughed, though her amusement was directed at Aoshi. “And to think, she is probably picking up a few more admirers in Tokyo.”

Aoshi didn’t notice her sly glances, he was too busy gritting his teeth and plotting painful tortures and long, slow, drawn out deaths for these unsuspecting men. He stood abruptly and, with a face like a thundercloud, gave an absent bow and walked out.

“Kami-sama,” Midori thought, as she let loose with wicked laughter, “men were so simple. I hope none of those poor souls I named are unlucky enough to run into him tonight.”

Aoshi strode down the streets on his way back to the Aoiya; his movements were purposeful and smooth giving away nothing of the seething emotions churning through him but his eyes, they told another story and anyone who had the misfortune of having those ice blue orbs turned on them quickly crossed to the other side of the street and let the man continue on unaccosted.

His long strides took him through the front doors and into the backroom where Okina sat reading a book. The old man glanced up at him in surprise, but patiently waited for Aoshi to say whatever was on his mind.

“Tomorrow,” Aoshi bit out between clenched teeth, “I go to Tokyo and fetch Misao.”

Okina just nodded and waited until Aoshi’s stiff back turned a corner before he broke into a big grin.