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Going Home	By : westernink Category: Rurouni Kenshin > General Views: 2974 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Going Home
- 1
Going Home

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Disclaimer: I do not own RK or any part thereof.

�� "Where
are the kids?"

�� Aoshi looked up as a man stepped into the local inn,
addressing his wife who was seated across from the door on the opposite side of
the small room.

�� "Oh,
they're up at old Misao's place I think.� Why?"

�� The
man yawned.� "Just
curious.� They aren't making all
the noise they usually do.� I'm heading
to bed for a while."

�� Aoshi's presence was ignored as the man walked by, heading
for the stairs.

�� Old Misao's place?

�� Old Misao?�

�� Misao couldn't be more than twenty four years old by this
time.� Perhaps it was not his Misao they spoke of.�
It had been forever since he'd seen her.�
Perhaps, if it was her, he should stop by to visit her.� He had doubts about how welcome he would be
at her house, given their last encounter even if it was the girl, woman, he
remembered.

�� The
last time they�d spoken he'd told her he thought they were better off
separate.� He had thought it would be a
rather easy transition.� He'd spent years
without Misao with him before without difficulty, how
hard could it be to do again?

�� Only,
it had proven to be painful.� No matter
where he went, he remembered the horrified look in her eyes.� She hadn't cried, but that only made it
worse.� He'd left the Aoiya
after that to visit the Temple.� It was a habit he'd broken some time before,
but he was merely looking for an hour of peace or so.� A temporary respite from that terribly broken
horror he�d seen in her eyes and burned into his memory.�

�� When
he'd returned, Misao had been gone, and no one had
seen her since.� That had been nine years
ago.� It seemed like a lifetime.� There had been efforts to locate� her, but they simply hadn�t the
resources to do any wide searches.� The Oniwabanshuu had split, broken at its edges and crumbled,
falling away into the world surrounding it.�
It no longer formally existed.�
The Aoiya was all that remained.

�� "Hello
there.� Is there anything I can get for
you?� I believe Mika has made some tofu
soup."

�� The
inn keeper was a young woman, younger than Misao
would be by now.� She was married to the
man who'd come in just before and had two children by him.� It was information he�d picked up from
staying there the last two days, easy to discern from listening to
conversation.� They were a cute family.� It was something he'd never had, a family and
something he never expected to have.

�� "You
mentioned a woman called Misao... She lives around
here?"

�� "Ah?� Are you a friend of hers?� That poor lady, I always feel so bad for her.
Ever since she came here she seems to have had the worst luck...� Anyway, she lives right up the road. You
can't miss it, my kids will probably be out front of
her house playing."

�� She
smiled daintily at him and he stood.

�� "Thank
you."

�� "You
will return by evening, Sir?" she asked, drying her hands on her
apron.�

�� "I
expect so.� If I do not return by
evening, I will come by the in morning on my way out of town to settle my
bill."

�� She
nodded.� "That is fine."

�� He
headed out, his feet carrying him where his heart was unsure.� What if it was Misao?� He couldn't bring himself to ask of her
surname.� He was afraid it would dim his
hopes too greatly.� The farther he walked
the closer he came to children's voices and laughter.� He almost expected to see her too, outside
playing in a circle of children, flowers in her hair.

�� There
was no one there, however, just the two children from the inn, a boy and a girl
with wide, bright eyes.� They couldn�t
have been more than a year apart in age.�
He approached the gate, causing the laughing children to become
still.� The house was small and
traditional and looked sturdy.� He raised
his hand, knocking at the door.� He
waited and waited, and then knocked again.�
He wasn't giving up.� He
couldn�t.� He wanted too badly to see if
it was her.�

�� "Is
this woman home?"� He turned, asking
the curious tots.� They were both staring
at him, their laughter had died as they stared at him.

�� The
girl nodded.� "She's home, but she
likes to sit out back and she doesn't get many visitors so she doesn't hear
when someone knocks.� Are you her
friend?"

�� "Yes,"
he replied.� He damn sure hoped he was at
the right house.

�� "I'll
take you to her, she says I can come in whenever I
want to, 'cause I'm a sweetheart."

�� He
followed the little girl inside as she slid open the door.� The young boy didn't follow.� The place was small and all but empty.� It barely looked lived in.� The colors were dull and earthy, muted.� Passing by a room he noted a vase and a spray
of bright orange flowers on the table.�
He felt his heart sag in his chest.�
This could not be Misao�s house.

�� "Seta-san!� I
brought you a visitor!"� The girl
chimed.� He heard the name before he saw
anything and his hopes fell a notch further, but why was that name familiar to
him?� Seta?

�� "A visitor for me?" The woman's voice was smooth
and sweet.� It was the melodious kind of
tone that belonged to a woman and not a girl.�
He hadn't even seen her yet and he was convinced it could not be the Misao he'd left all those years ago.� He stepped into the room wondering how to word
his apology to this woman he had barged in upon and abruptly stopped.

�� In
a small, white painted western chair sat a lady.� Her hair was dark, an inky black color,
darker than slinky shadows.� The short,
straight strands laid over one shoulder, loose.� Staring back at him was the most beautiful
set of ocean green eyes he'd ever beheld in a woman's face before.� He�d never seen eyes like those in any face
before save for one.� There was simply no
doubt, no one had eyes like Misao.

�� "Can
I help you with something?" She asked softly, blandly.� There was almost nothing familiar about her
at all.

�� Her
braid was long gone, her hair shortened around her face.� She looked elegant and yet completely
different.� A stranger in a blue kimono
sat before him.� Her voice was soft,
without recognition of any kind.� Now
that he was paying attention, those lovely eyes didn't seem to be focused on
him at all, just in his general direction.�
Almost as if she were staring at the wall
behind him� or above him� or� through him.�
Did she not recognize him?� Did
she recognize him and she wished to pretend she didn�t?� Was it her way of saying she wanted him gone?� Out of her life again?

�� He
opened his mouth to speak.� "I
apologize for intruding upon you.� I
knocked, but no one answered."

�� Her
eyes narrowed suddenly and her mouth turned into a frown as she thought.� "What?�
Who are you?� You sound
familiar�"

�� Who
was he?�

Her eyes were not focused on him, not even
then.� He paused, his mind whirling not wanting
to piece together the things before him.�
There was one conclusion to be made.�
She was blind.

�� "Shinomori Aoshi," he
replied, finally deciding straight forward was best.

�� She
stood, her expression pained.� Those
bright, vacant eyes dimmed and a look similar to that he�d last seen upon her
face replaced it.� Not horror, but deep,
ugly pain.� "Aoshi-sama?�
You're a long way from Kyoto,
surely they didn't kick you out of the Aoiya?"

�� "Ah ha!"�
The girl began giggling triumphantly, throwing her arms around Misao.� Aoshi had forgotten about the child, but he realized now
the girl hadn�t left them.� She�d stood
off to the side a bit as if she was afraid to leave this stranger with her
friend.� "I'm so glad.� He is a friend of yours!"

�� Misao reached a hand down, patting her on the head.

�� "Yes,
I haven't seen him in a very long time.�
Thank you for bringing him to me.�
Shouldn't you go play with your brother?�
I'm sure he's lonely without you."��

�� The
girl nodded even though Misao couldn�t see it.� �I'll see you later then, Seta-san!� Have a pretty visit!"

�� He
watched the girl vanish around a corner and then heard her exit the house.

�� "What
do you want here?" she asked.� �Did
you actually find me or was it luck?�

�� "Luck,�
he admitted.� �I heard your name at the
inn.�

�� She
sat back into her chair, her hand reaching back for the arm rest to guide herself down.� It was
such a careful movement, so slow, graceful.�
Time had done beautiful things to her, despite her blindness.� "How nice."� That sweet voice was now tainted with
bitterness, like a shiny apple with a nasty bruise. "Well, sit down if you
like.� No need to hover about in the
doorway."

�� He
did as she directed, taking a seat in the chair across from her at the small
table.� There was a pitcher of juice and
some cookies there.� How had Misao come to be blind?�
Did she cook?� Did someone cook
for her?� Did she live alone?� Was she married or had she just taken the
name Seta?

�� Her
eyes, those were more important than anything else.� "What happened to your eyes?"

�� "Carelessness,"
she replied, showing no signs of saying anything else.� �Someone told me once that experience was the
best teacher, but sometimes it�s the cruelest.�

�� That
explained nothing, but he didn�t want to press.�
He didn�t like the expression on her face.� It was a look he�d seen on older people, old
cynical, jaded people.� "How have
you been?"� He asked when she remained
silent.� He did not like being forced to
generate the conversation.��

�� "I
got married to Seta Soujiro several months after I
left the Aoiya.�
Almost a year to the day later, he was killed and in the same attack, I
was blinded.� Some time after that I
found out I was pregnant and then miscarried.�
Since then, I've been here by myself.�
That's pretty much it."

�� He
hung his head.

�� All
this time, she'd been alone.� He�d been
hoping she was happy, settled somewhere.�
He�d hoped she had moved on from him and forgotten him.� Guilt that had been sparked years earlier,
flared to life.

�� "So,
what have you been doing?" she asked.

�� "Wandering
around," he replied evasively.� It
wasn�t untrue.� He wandered.� He walked from town to town, if not in search
for her, in search for something.�
Something he�d lost, maybe something he�d thrown away.

�� "Why'd
you leave the Aoiya?" she asked, looking puzzled.
�Its not closed, is it?�

�� "No.� There was just no reason to stay."

�� Whatever
she thought of that, she didn't immediately say.

�� "Oh,
well, whatever you thought was best, Aoshi-sama."

�� "Aoshi-sama..." he mused aloud.� He stood impulsively, feeling restless.� She was there, in front of him, blind and
beautiful and he was lost.� Overwhelmed by her sheer presence.� "Do you call me that now to spite me?�

�� She
sighed.� �No.� Never.� Not even now.��

He approached, slinking down to his knees before her
chair.� He scooted so close her knees
touched his abdomen.� He wanted her
touch.� He wanted to feel she was real.

"Was it worth it, Aoshi-sama,
wandering around?"

�� He
had thought Misao would be well on
her own.� He had thought she could
be happy if she was away from him.� Away
from his tainted past and blood stained hands, but she had ended up this way.

�� A tragic life.� A
husband and child killed.� Blind and alone.

�� He
had led Misao to a life of unhappiness all because he
couldn't give her the one thing she wanted.

�� "Was
it worth it?" he repeated.�
"No, the only thing that mattered I lost a long time ago."

�� If
she was curious, she didn't ask and he was disappointed.� Her eyes were less expressive than when she
hadn�t been blind.� She stared straight
ahead, her eyes unseeing, almost lifeless, but she was beautiful and she filled
him with a deep, cavernous longing.

He reached, sliding his hands around her slim
waist.� She was real and solid against
his hands, the beautiful white brocade of her obi rough against his palms. He
tightened his hands against her, finding her hip bones and he pulled her toward
the edge of the chair. She shifted, trying to widen the stance of her feet to
keep from falling, but he pulled her, a quick, hard yank.�

She fell against this chest; her weight real and
solid and he slid her to the floor, her knees bearing her weight as he pulled
the chair back.� The heavy wooden legs
screeched in protest.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, those pale
lips parting.� He wanted to taste her, to
slide his tongue into her mouth, to hear her try to speak against his
lips.� He held her against him, bathing
himself in her warmth.� There was no
memory in his head to compare this to.�
This was new.

�� "Will
you come home with me, Misao?"

�� As
soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.� Home.� He had no home to take her to.� None to give her.� Nothing to share with her.

�� "I
am home," she replied.

�� He
lowered his head.� She was right.� She had a home, but part of him
rebelled.� She belonged with him.� Years apart had proven that.� He needed her.�

�� "Your
home is with me," he answered with none of the sting her previous comment
had inflicted upon him.

�� "Oh?"� She turned her head away, her nose brushing
against his clothed chest.� It sent little
coils of pleasure down his spine toward his groin.� "That's not what you said last time,
remember?"

�� "I
see," he replied.�

�� The
look on her face turned to disappointment.

�� "I'm
sorry," he breathed.� Couldn�t she
tell he was sorry?� What could he do to atone?� He�d do it for her.�

�� "I
could guess you were sorry," she snapped.�
"I was looking for an admission of idiocy.� That you were behaving like you always do, a
big, thick ice block considering nobody's feelings except your own warped sense
of logic. �That's what I was looking
for," she replied primly.

�� He
tightened his arms around her allowing no leeway of space between their
bodies.��

�� How
could she think of such things at a time like this?� He leaned forward, down, bending her backward
to slide his mouth down the column of her neck and she tensed.� He wanted to eat her.� He wanted to taste every inch of skin she
possessed.� He kissed along the exposed
flesh, pressing his lips against her skin, feeling her heartbeat.

�� He
didn't want her thinking of anything but him.�
Not the him of the past, not the him who'd told
her they needed to walk separate paths, only the present him.� He wanted her as crazed with need as he
felt.�

�� He
wanted her.

�� He
wanted to fuck her.

�� It
was a powerful, startling revelation to him.�
He�d known he needed her, but he hadn�t known it could feel like
this.� He didn�t know� didn�t know he was
capable of such� lust� for her.�

�� He
spilled her onto the floor, pulling her legs from under her and laying her back
onto the tatami and crawled over her.� He wanted her now.� Immediately now.� He wanted to peel away her tight kimono and
take her right there, with those kids laughing and playing outside, there in
the brilliance of the daylight.� Her
bright, vacant eyes stared up, her chest rose and fell and she stayed silent.

�� "Doesn't
matter," he murmured absently, not even remembering the last thing she'd
said.� Nothing mattered.� He pressed his knees to either side of her
hips and then gently slid his hands under her, sitting her up.� She said nothing, she did nothing.� She was immobile beneath his touch.

�� He
pulled at the obi, fiddling with the tie and then trying to unloop
it from around her body.� He pulled at
the material watching as virtual yards of it coiled in his hands, more and more
and more.� Annoyed, he tossed it away,
somewhere off toward the window.� Her
pale, pretty lips had opened, in surprise or something else.� He could hear her breathing, or was that his
own?

�� "What
are you doing?" she asked.� Her
unseeing eyes were cast forward toward his chest.

�� Superfluous question.�
She knew what he was doing.�
She had been married.�
She�d been pregnant.� She�d
done this before.� It sent that
flame inside him roaring.� She wasn�t
a virgin and it left him feeling free.

�� Free
to lust�

�� Free
to explore�

�� Free
to pound himself into her until both their hips ached
from the effort�

�� His
hands found her waist and he sat back again to watch as he parted the
garment.� A soft, off white under kimono lay beneath, and beneath that another slip.� They all parted at the front and he pulled at
them gently, opening them but not sliding her arms from them.� He wanted her just like that, still half
dressed.� He wanted to take her there in
her clothes, on top of her clothes.

�� His
eyes were riveted to her.� Each layer of
cloth got him closer to her skin.� Gently
parting the last barrier between them he was met with bare, beautiful
skin.� Pure, lovely
nakedness from her forehead to her toes.�
Her clavicles pressed against her skin longed to be licked� Her breasts
rose and fell with her breath, the pink tips hardened and stiff.� Her little waist narrowed.� The special treasure between her closed
thighs� He lowered his eyes all the way down staring at her milky skin.� Loveliness... he had given this up?

�� Her
belly was flat with the small dip in the center.� He wanted to slip his tongue into it.� Dragging his eyes up, his gaze fell onto the
thick, roughened scar tissue across her chest.�
He wondered as he stared and leaned closer breathing on her.� Opening his lips, he flicked his tongue
against it.� Misao
gasped at the soft touch and his mouth opened wider and he closed his mouth
around the flesh, gently biting.

�� "Aoshi-..."

�� The
"-sama" was lost
somewhere, he hoped forever.

�� He
licked and laved and snapped his teeth against her flesh, biting her scar,
loving it.� She was imperfection.� He wanted to sink into her and never
leave.� He wanted to fuck her until her
entire body hurt.� Lust and need all
roiled in him chaotically.

�� Raising
his head, he found one tempting nipple and slid his mouth over it,
sucking.� The skin was soft, the nipple
gentle and hard against his tongue.� He
sucked it, soft, hard, loving it... Loving her.� Her flesh was in his mouth and his cock
throbbed in response.

�� Dropping
his hands, he reached and pulled at his clothes.� His belt un-looped without
difficulty and he pushed his pants down, just far enough to free himself.� He lowered his hips and hissed with pleasure
as his cock touched her skin.� It felt so
good to touch her.

��

�� Pulling
back from her, he sat up straight� and looked down.� Her body was flushed, her breasts wet, her
scar and the skin surrounding it pinked from his teeth.� The scar streaked across her abdomen, one tip
of it just touching the underside of a breast.�

�� He
shifted, reaching for one of her thighs and pressing it away from her other
lifting his knee.� He repeated it on the
other side placing his knees between hers and her lovely, pale thighs open.� He pressed his palms against her legs and
pushed, opening her further and she gasped softly.

�� With
one fingertip, he parted the folds of her sex.�
Her lips were swollen and reddened, the center petal thickened with
lust.� He stroked the hard pad of his
finger against it and her hips jerked.

�� Sliding
lower, he found the narrow entrance of her body and dipped his finger into
it.� She was wet enough for him to slide
deep, his finger squeezed into her all the way, her walls tight around
him.� Wet, soft.

�� She'd
been married, she'd miscarried a child... how long ago had it been since anyone
had been inside her?

�� He
slid his finger out and was tempted to cradle his hips between her thighs and
simply thrust in, but he refrained.� He
slid his wet finger against her swollen petal again and slowly teased it,
sliding up and down, through her folds, swirling around.� Small, pitiful whimpers seeped from her mouth
and her wetness grew.� Her hips jerked
and rose off the floor in want and his pride and his cock swelled.� He felt like he could burst.�

�� She
hadn't tried to stop him.� She hadn�t
done anything but let him indulge.�
He was going to� He was going to indulge all the way.� He flicked his gaze upward, but her eyes were
distant.� ��

�� "Misao," he murmured thickly.� Leaning down, his slid his tongue against her
nether lips and she almost shrieked in response.� Her voice cracked.�

Fuck yes!�

Her voice still worked and it was so good to hear
it.

He closed his lips over her center petal and
sucked on it gently and her hips lifted and she whimpered.� "Ao... shi... oh..."

�� He
flicked his tongue against it, swirling against the strip of meaty flesh before
tearing himself away abruptly.� She would
drive him insane.� His temples were
throbbing, his cock ached.� He pulled
himself up, aligning his hips with hers.�
He was tall and their bodies met unevenly.� He towered over her tiny frame, his palms
flat on the floor holding his weight off her.

�� He
lowered his hips into the small, supple embrace of her thighs and took the
shaft of his cock in his hand pressing the broad head to her lips and then
sliding it down against her folds.� The
stimulation made him hiss in pleasure.

�� Her
opening was soft and wet and it dipped just slightly.� He pressed against that spot and he felt her
part beneath him and he sank into her with a groan.� He sank into her, deeper and deeper until
there was no more room inside her.� She
was full of him and it made his whole body flush with pleasure.

�� Misao... he was balls deep inside Misao.

�� The
muscles down his spine were tight as he pulled his hips back and thrust into
her again.� A cry escaped her lips.� This was good.� This was better than good.� They were made for this, him and her.

�� She
was under him and perfect.� He thrust
hard forward, in and out of her, loving the soft, warm suction of her body
around him.� His ears were ringing.� He thought he heard her panting and forced
his gaze down.� She had her bottom lip
between her teeth, moaning softly.� He
felt her hips lift beneath him and groaned.

�� Misao� ��
He wanted to talk to her, to tell her he wanted her to come away
with him, to ask him to stay with her.�
He wanted to tell her he loved her, that he needed her, that he couldn�t
live without her, but he couldn�t think straight enough to find the words.� He was hypnotized by the rhythm of his hips
and drowning in the pleasure of her body.

�� Sound
rushed in his hears, his heart thudded, and his pleasure built to a sharp
peak.� He felt his balls tighten and
shifted leaning back.� He slid his hands
under her hips and lifted them off the floor, shortening his thrusts.� He wanted to spill deep in her; he wanted to
fill her womb with seed, marking every inch inside her as his own.

�� He
grunted and peaked, his thrusts shortening and erratic as he gushed inside her
in streams.� His eyes fell closed, an
explosion of nothing behind his eyelids, his body awash in fierce, fierce
pleasure.

She was panting hard, sweat a fine sheen on her
body.� He leaned over her and licked up
her chest, tasting her.� Lowering her
hips to the floor, he pushed her legs farther open and reached down to find her
center of pleasure.� He hadn�t� he hadn�t
felt her.� Finding her swollen nub, he
caressed it, stroking and rolling the sensitive flesh until her inner muscles
squeezed around his softening cock, contracting.� Her mouth fell open in a cry that sounded
like some variant of his name.��

It was beautiful; it was perfect.

�� He
lowered himself down gently, cradling her body beneath his, shielding her from
the unyielding light of the sun streaming through her open windows.� �Home,� he whispered softly in her ear.�

�� They
breathed against one another.� �Are you
home, Aoshi-sama?�

�� He
wanted to growl at her for using that horrible �-sama�, but pushed it aside yet.� Later, later, he could break her of that
habit.� Now he needed promises.

�� Aa,� he answered.�
�Home, Misao.�

�� She
reached up, her small hands touching his chest and then sliding around his
back.

��

�� She
hadn�t touched him.� It was a lightning
streak through his pleasure-hazed mind.�
He had been doing all the touching.�
He leaned back from her, to meet her eyes, but saw nothing.

�� Blind.

�� He�d
forgotten, he couldn�t see her expressions anymore, she had lost those.

�� Forgive
me?� he whispered, touching his nose gently to hers.� �Please�� he pleaded softly.

�� Always,�
she murmured.� �Are you going to stay
here with me?� Is this your home?�

�� He
nodded once and then lowered his head to hers, slanting his lips against
hers.� Had he kissed her?� He couldn�t remember.� He poured his chaotic emotions through his
lips into her and hoped, hoped she knew� understood� something.

�� He
hoped.� He had to hope she understood
because he was lost.� �Anywhere you are
is home, Misao.�

�� Thinking
it lost, he was astonished and warmed when she smiled.� The somber elegance in her face faded away abruptly
into youth and beauty.� �YES!� That is the best thing you could�ve said to
me EVER!��

�� Her
arms squeezed around him and he leaned deep into her before rolling pressing
his back to the floor and holding her above him.� His softened cock slipped out of her, but she
didn�t seem to mind as she laid over him, her wet folds pressing against his
limp cock.�

�� She
pressed her hands against his chest, tracing the scars on his body. �I�ve
missed you so much.� I got married and he
was nice and everything but I just always thought of you� what you would feel
like inside me� what it would be like if it had been your baby� although I
loved her, she was precious��

�� Her
mouth tilted, fell, into a frown.� �Let�s
have one,� he answered.� He wanted that
too, he realized.� To know how she would
look with her belly swollen with a baby, to turn her onto her knees and make
love to her from behind when she was too big and too fragile for him to slide
between her legs the traditional way.�
The greatest mark of his possession�

�� Let�s
have one, Misao,� he said again.

�� She
tilted her head.� �Just
like that?�

�� Home,
marriage, babies� I want them, all of them.��
It felt good to demand.� It felt
good to tell her what he wanted from her.�
Too long had he kept them bottled up inside.��

�� Are
you sure?�� There was a strange tenseness
to her body, as if she were afraid he would change his mind.� He would have to convince her, but he had
time.� He had plenty of time to show her
she�d have to kill him to get him to ever leave her again.

�� My
seed is already in you, Misao.� You�re mine.�

�� Her
unseeing eyes widened and her lips curled a moment later into a satisfied
smile.� He was unable to indulge as they
heard the patter of footsteps and children�s voices.� He silently damned those kids as he stood,
pulling her onto her feet and grabbing her discarded obi material.� She felt the brocade brush her hand and took
it from him, stepping away.

�� I�ll
go get dressed.�

��

�� He
wanted to follow her, to see her bedroom and to stake his as it own by claiming
her in it.� Instead, he buttoned up his
clothes, hiding away his spent cock and waited for the children to break into
the room.

�� They
would need ground rules, he decided as the two flushed faces stared at him from
the doorway.

�� No
more free reign of the house.

*�� *�� *�� *

�� When
nightfall finally came, Misao and Aoshi
had settled at her dining table.� Unlike
the back sitting room, there was no high western furniture and they were both
curled down onto the floor.

�� Misao had demonstrated how she cooked and Aoshi had watched each movement she made with something
just short of fascination.� Now, dinner
over and the table cleared and the dishes washed, they had returned to
silence.�

�� I
want to return to the Aoiya to get married.�

�� She
raised her head, her fingers still lightly curled around her teacup.

�� I�m
sure they miss you.� Let�s visit.�

�� She
nodded.� �It would be nice to go back,�
she answered.� �Is Jiya
okay?� Have you seen him?�

�� No,�
Aoshi answered.�
�Not in years.�

��

�� A
melancholy sadness fell over the table as they thought about the years gone by
and the things lost.� Maybe Okina was dead.

�� Let�s
go soon,� Misao spoke up.�

�� In
a week or two,� Aoshi agreed.

�� Why
so long?� Shouldn�t we go tomorrow?�

�� No.� It�s not enough time.�� He sipped his tea waiting for her to ask why.

��

�� She
did so a moment later, looking puzzled.�
�Enough time for what?�

�� To sate ourselves in lovemaking.�

�� Her
eyes widened in a surprisingly innocent fashion.� �S-sate?�

�� I
want you too much and too often for traveling right now.� I want to have you in every room of this
house, on the floor, against the wall, over this dinner table��

�� Her
cheeks flushed.

�� Didn�t
your husband sate you?�� He was hesitant
to ask after her departed lover, but the expression on her face made him
curious.

�� N-no�
Soujiro was� kind of� � she
cleared her throat and looked away.�
�Traditional� night time only� in bed� under the blankets� quietly�
You�re making me feel bad telling you this.�

�� His
lips curled in a deep, male satisfaction.�
He�d break her of any habits her late husband had ingrained in her.� He would take her anywhere and
everywhere.�

�� He
stood, pushing his tea cup toward the center of the table.� She turned her head at the sound of his movement
and then up as he leaned down to take her hands away
from her tea cup.

�� Come
on�� he gently urged.

�� Where
are we going?� she asked as he pulled her up from the floor.

��

�� She
had shown him around earlier and he remembered where her bedroom was.�

�� We�re
going to make love in the bedroom.�� He
pulled open the door and let her step past him inside, breathing in the scent
of her that was everywhere inside this room.�
�Tomorrow, we�ll explore the other rooms.�

�� He
watched her mill about the room, exploring carefully, holding her hands out to
reach for things.� Never once did she
stumble or fumble in her blindness.�

��

�� When
the futon was laid out upon the floor and she was unfolding the blankets he
came up behind her and guided her down onto her knees.

�� Don�t
worry about that,� he whispered softly in her ear.

�� With
quick, eager hands he stripped her and laid her in her bed.� Home� this was home.� When he sank into her soft, yielding body and
they panted one another�s name, he felt the last of his ties to the past snap
away.

�� He
lived for her and inside her was home.
- 1
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