“I was…involved with her.” Motoko said as she closed her eyes. Shinobu was driving her small car, with Motoko in the backseat. Shinobu was oddly unassuming at the time, as if she didn’t hear, or didn’t want to hear, what Motoko had just said. The samurai was drinking tea from a small plastic cup, her eyes almost completely closed in concentration. Traffic was heavy and compounding the closer they got to Hinata Sou, which gave the two of them ample time to fully discuss any topic under the sun but neither of them spoke past Motoko’s almost solemn words. Somehow, some way, Shinobu knew what Motoko meant but didn’t want to admit it. All she could see was the bad blood between the two, the hatred, the bloody battles, the injuries. Motoko kept her composure, letting the steam of the tea slowly rise to her nose as Shinobu kept driving. Finally, traffic stopped them several feet from the street corner and Motoko closed her eyes fully for a second, in meditation. “I…she and I were…” Motoko’s tongue refused to allow her to speak. “…lovers.” The sound of a plate of fine china breaking on a cold, hard steel floor echoed in Shinobu’s mind even though there wasn’t any around. Motoko had confirmed her worst fears with that statement. Motoko was involved with Kanako in a romantic manner once, in secret no doubt and that the break-up may well be the cause of so much bad blood between them. Everything slowly made sense now. The way Motoko insisted that she stay away from Kanako, the uncharacteristic brutality that Motoko had when dealing with Kanako, perhaps even the way Motoko attached herself to Shinobu after Kanako left. It felt like a stake was being driven through her heart, a jagged edge wrenching away at her insides. Shinobu could almost cry but was too shocked to do so. She looked at the rear view mirror of the car, seeing Motoko with a single tear starting to fall down her cheek. Behind her cold, stoic face beat the heart of a woman burned by loves past. “It was only for a short time, a month and a few days, to my recollection. It was a fling, to use the vernacular.” Motoko didn’t move at all, not even to wipe that single tear. “We were…it was a mostly physical relationship. She would slip out from her room in the middle of the night, sneak into my bed and hold me in her arms…” “Motoko-chan…” “We would kiss…or more appropriately, she would kiss me. We could never really admit what we were doing and what we thought we felt for each other to anyone else…” Motoko stopped for what seemed like an eternal second. “On that final night…just a day or two before she left for good because of me, she slipped into my bed one last time…” Motoko froze, she wondered whether or not she should say what she was about to say. About the event from that last night the two of them had together, the words Kanako spoke, whispering that bitter truth in her ear. She could only look back and wonder now, why had she pushed her away? She owed Kanako one thing, she had to admit. Had it not been for Kanako’s so cunningly weaved web of lies and truth, had it not been for the closeness that Shinobu and Kanako were developing during those precious days before Motoko decided to call their affair off once and for all, she would never have realized what she really felt for Shinobu. It may have been jealousy; it may have been that part of her was using Kanako; Motoko had no real way of knowing. Then, when Kanako left, she didn’t even care about the dark one anymore. Had she no feelings for Kanako from the start? If so, why did she feel so jealous seeing Shinobu and Kanako together all those years ago? And even a few days ago, she felt that same torment. “Those words she whispered in my ear…” Motoko spoke again. “I remember them all too clearly. She told me ‘you hate me because I have shown you the truth that in the end, all you can really do is run away’. As I look back at everything, I realize…” “Is that why? Is that why you…told me you loved me after she left?” Shinobu could barely ask, her eyes averted from the road. Not that it mattered; they were still stuck in traffic. “Were you just using me to recover from losing her?” “N-no, it wasn’t like that, Shinobu-chan.” Motoko tried to move, to reach out her hand to Shinobu but she failed. Something was holding her back and something was keeping Shinobu away. “I…being with her…it made me realize…she made me realize…” “You haven’t changed at all Motoko-chan.” Shinobu said with her eyes full of tears she refused to let go. “You’re still cold, still uncaring. You’re still the same girl that…that…” “That broke your heart almost five years ago…” Motoko finished the sentence for Shinobu. She tried to convince herself, once upon a time, that she understood how hurt Shinobu was by what she had done but as she looked into Shinobu’s eyes, that illusion rapidly degraded. She could never know the pain Shinobu felt that day. “I’m sorry.” It was an all too painful silence that followed after that, as the car finally got a move on and made it’s way back to Hinata Sou. Motoko didn’t know what to do anymore, she knew a mere apology isn’t enough. It would never be enough, not for what she had done. She hated the memory of it, the cowardice she showed when she ran from Hinata Sou, from Shinobu a day before they were to be married. She couldn’t bear to even listen to herself think, to clumsily rationalize her running away. Kanako’s words rang through her mind that day and for several months afterwards and she loathed it. Kanako was right. In the end, all she could ever really do was run away. She had run away from the truth that Kanako represented, she ran away from her commitment and relationship with Shinobu, she ran away from her heart. She didn’t notice the time pass by or the elders watching in the distance as she got out of Shinobu’s car outside the Maehara café. It was clear that Shinobu didn’t want Motoko around while she saw supervising Shirai and Haitani’s construction crew. “I guess I should leave it this way for a little while…” Motoko said to herself with a little hopelessness. Then, as she looked up, she was greeted by the other Maehara. “Miho-san…” “You are leaving things as they are? After stirring up the storm winds again? Is that what you are going to do, Aoyama Motoko?” She was smiling, there was no mistake about it but Motoko felt that cold chill, that overwhelmingly potent sensation, she was afraid of Miho’s smile. It was sincere and genuinely kind, there was no falsehood in that, but it was not merely the smile that sent chills up and down Motoko’s spine as it did Kanako’s. It was the way Miho carried herself and the way her aura seemed to flow within and without of not just herself but the person she was facing. Motoko could feel that aura, it was slowly dissecting her own aura, the way her older sister Tsuruko once did before delivering the final blow whenever they would spar. Yet, the quality of Miho’s was fundamentally different. Tsuruko’s aura had some rough spots, flaws in its power but Miho’s was smooth as silk and sharp as the sharpest katana. Motoko looked into those purple eyes, so empty and void of emotion, the stance that was contemporary but showed no weakness and every bone in her body trembled. She couldn’t even run. Miho’s gentle smile kept her trapped in her place. “You should not have come back.” “I didn’t mean to…me…I just wanted to see her…to apologize…” “She cried for six weeks after you left. She could barely see anything past the tears, let alone look anyone in the eye.” Miho’s smile was still present, still dominating and still overwhelmingly powerful. “I won’t let you do that to her again.” “I won’t do that…this time…I…I…my feelings for her…” “You have no feelings for her, do you? You are here because of a guilty conscience and you think that fooling yourself into loving her and fulfilling the duty you ran away from five years ago would clear it up.” Miho didn’t stop smiling as she said those words. That smile…that enigmatic smile… “You are dead wrong, Aoyama Motoko, dead wrong.” Motoko took another look at the way Miho was. She stood there in a simple way, she seemed like a serene female monk to Motoko’s eyes but that presence. There was an overpowering confidence, as if Miho would not only be able to take whatever Motoko could do but be able to counter attack and even defeat her as well. Miho opened the door and let Motoko in, but the samurai felt as if Miho was a puppet master, moving her, the puppet, in any way she wanted. Motoko sat down on one of the chairs in front of the bar as Miho took her place behind the bar and mixed up a drink for herself. The samurai watched the various wines flow and mix into the glass, the reflection of Miho’s smile still visible despite the slight blurring and distortion. Never had Motoko felt this kind of strength before, it was strength that came not from ki or training or muscular strength, it was sheer strength of will and the confidence that every person is an open book to her. Motoko could only wonder, was Miho reading her mind at that moment? “I’m no mind reader, Motoko-chan.” Miho said as she took the bartender’s chair in front of Motoko. “I am not reading your mind right now.” “Does she…hate me?” “Why are you asking me that?” Miho said before taking a sip of her drink. “I have no right, nor inclination, to claim that I know how she feels or thinks. What I know about her thoughts and feelings is what she chooses to tell me or show me, nothing more than that.” “Does she…love her?” “Her? By her you mean Urashima Kanako?” Miho raised an inquisitive eyebrow. She knew the answer but wasn’t about to say so. “I don’t presume to know how she feels about Kanako, nor do I have any reason to find out. I am her older sister; she will tell me when the time is right for her.” Motoko had no idea what to do next. Miho’s smile and presence combined seemed to paralyze her; she couldn’t really do anything no matter how much she wanted to. Miho seemed intent on keeping her there as she offered Motoko a cup of coffee. Miho’s smile, that enigmatic and powerful smile, that irresistible presence, it was all too overwhelming. Her mind became preoccupied with Miho. What did she want? Why couldn’t she move away? Was Miho reading her mind? Does Miho know something about Kanako and Shinobu that she didn’t? Did she know something that Shinobu herself didn’t know? Was this actually Kanako in disguise, toying with her mind once more? As Kanako did so long ago? Motoko was driving herself insane with question after question, her aura was becoming less and less stable with each passing moment and that smile haunted her every thought. She was certain Miho was a demon but she felt no demonic energy from her. She trembled, unable to shake her fears off as Miho smiled and drank again. “If you want to find out about that so much, why not ask her yourself?” Miho’s smile faded, letting Motoko breathe a little easier until Miho raised an eyebrow. It was more like a challenge than a question. “Or do you fear the answer she will give you?” “I fear nothing.” “Then go on and ask her, if you fear nothing and so desperately want to know.” “Do not mock me, you instrument of evil…” Motoko muttered. She got up, of her own free will it seemed, and walked out of the bar, leaving the cup of coffee still full on the bar. “Forgive her, Shinobu-chan. She does not know what she is doing.” Miho whispered with a smile.
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