This was completely, absolutely wrong. On so many different levels. It was invading someone’s privacy…someone’s inner thoughts…Shinomori Aoshi closed his eyes before setting the delicate paper aside. It was one of several he had found, all nicely folded.

The letters revealed the soul and secret wishes of its author. Some poetic, some with a slight touch of humor, some more intimate, but all clearly written with no intention of ever being sent to its receiver. He frowned slightly, almost wishing Okina had never given him the box of items that Himura and his friends had accidentally left behind during their last visit to Kyoto. Socks, ribbons, combs, and assorted feminine items he couldn’t identify. And letters. There was no mistaking the elegant handwriting of Takani Megumi. Especially once he compared it to the notes diligently written on several sheets of paper containing medicinal recipes of plants that were growing at the Aoiya. His frown deepened, wo ndering if Okina had thoroughly examined all the contents in the box.

His eyes flew open, and Aoshi cleared his throat, realizing he had an audience.

"Miaowrr." A tiny black kitten stood in the doorway, holding out a single white paw that looked as if it had been dipped in the floury paint of a geisha.

Aoshi let out a sigh. It was just a cat, looking for food, no doubt. Well, he was not carrying a single crumb with him, so it would just have to go somewhere else. He paused for a moment, wondering how the little beast could have possibly gotten inside, before dismissing the thought and turning back to the letters, folded neatly on his desk.

He picked up the letter he had been studying once again, running his fingers across the rough yellow surface of the rice paper, tracing the black ink of each meticulous brushstroke. Then he shook his head, cursing his curiosity. He had thought himself above such petty human desires. What was written in the letters was not his business, and he should not have opened them in the first place. He swiftly folded the paper and placed it on his desk once more. He would have to decide what to do with them later.

"Mrowwrrr," insisted the cat in the doorway. The damn thing was still there, and he hadn't even noticed.

Aoshi turned and glared morosely at the black kitten. "Koneko-san," he said sternly. "I don't have any food. Go away."

~

She was stretched comfortably in her favorite arm chair, with her legs dangling over the side of the overstuffed cushions. As she sat there, her eyes stared sightlessly out of the nearby window. The early afternoon sunlight, filtered by the shade of Ginko trees, trickled into the room in interesting patterns of light and shadow on the floor.

It simply fascinated her idle mind.

Resisting the urge to get up from her position, she stretched her back indulgently, feeling the feel of luxurious upholstery against her body.

What a lovely, perfect, lazy morning. As she laid there, a very wicked thought crossed her mind.

Perhaps it would be nice if he could join her in this chair right now.

Her favorite thing about him was his scent. Aoshi always had a deliciously soft, and exotically woodsy, smoky smell to him. She imagined burying her face into the comfort of his chest and inhaling. Oh that would be heaven.

Oh, she would give anything, anything for his touch, the feel of his strong, calloused fingers in her hair.

The lid to a wooden box slammed shut with a bang loud enough to make her jump. Annoyed, she cast her wide-set eyes towards the direction of the noise.

"Koneko! I get out of that armchair! You know you're not allowed on it." Aoshi said sternly as he pushed the box back into its place in the closet.

"Meow" She cried in the cutest voice she could muster. Looking up at him, she rubbed her head on his ankles. Get his attention. Good. Now, look cute. Milk, it, milk it girl. He's a sucker for big, doe-eyes.

With exasperation, Aoshi finally stood up. "All right, I get it, you're hungry. Let's see what I can find for you to eat."

And with that, the cat and the man exited the room, leaving the letters completely unguarded.

~

Okina tapped lightly on the shoji screen before entering the room. "Oi, Aoshi. You in here...?" Seeing no one was in the room, he turned to leave, but something on the desk caught his eye.

Several things, that is. Letters, written with a graceful, elegant hand and smelling faintly of orange blossoms. Tapping the letters against the tip of his nose, he recalled that Takani Megumi had worn a similar scent during the Kenshingumi's recent visit here. It made sense that she was the one who wrote the letters.

What were they doing on Aoshi's desk, anyway? Eyebrows raised, he perused t he letters and felt a grin broadening his face.

Love letters, all addressed to Aoshi. Who else could they be for? It certai nly sounded as though she was talking about him­his mannerisms, their past...it made a lot of sense.

And knowing how incredibly slow Aoshi was when it came to matters of the heart, the young man probably wasn't going to act upon them.

Well, Okina was going to make damn sure that he would. He couldn't think of a better match for the onna-sensei than Aoshi. Well, other than Okina himself, that is.

With an impish grin, he carefully placed the letters back on the desk.

~
Megumi Takani sneezed.

Instinctively, she paused in her writing and brought her hand to her head. Satisfied that she wasn't sick, she decided instead that perhaps a draft from the open window was responsible. She put down her brush pen and moved lightly to the window, suddenly reminded that she had been sitting hours and hours in her task.

It was unfortunate that she had left all those pages behind somewhere. Her secret project was certainly going to be set back at least another month or so with that written material missing. She was certain that it had been either left in Kyoto or in Tokyo, but was almost too embarassed to bring up the matter.

--

"I'm sure koneko is here somewhere," Omasu padded down the hallway and paused at the door that led to Aoshi's office.

"I don't know about this," Misao shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Aoshi-sama hasn't given us permission."

"Blah blah blah," Omasu ignored the younger woman and strode into the office and began peering under and around pieces of furniture. "Aoshi- sama will not like a loose kitten in his office either. He's allergic to cats, you know."

Misao sighed from the doorway. No matter what, -she- wasn't going in. "See her?"

"No," Omasu frowned as she leaned over Aoshi's desk and spotted a
very out of place box. "But I found something else."

Though the unearthly feminine scream that shook the walls of the Aoiya, shocked its rowdy afternoon customers into silence, and had Okina vaulting up the stairs with equally shocking agility certainly defied human standards of lung power, it still failed to reach even Shinomori Aoshi's sensitive hearing. At that moment, he was sitting through his second of three hours of meditation at the temple on the other side of Kyoto.

And so he could hardly be blamed for his utter confusion and bewilderment when he returned home to the Aoiya to find Misao unconscious and ill with fever, Okina gone with hardly a word of explanation, and the rest of the Oniwabanshuu shooting him black looks.

As Okon excused herself awkwardly from his presence, mumbling something about "black silk--I mean packed milk" and growing very red in the face, he stared after her retreating figure, feeling distinctly at a loss.

He sighed, very quietly, and turned to head for his office. Had he been more inclined toward showing his emotions, he would have shaken his head. It didn't help that his meditation had been a near complete failure. He had been distracted entirely too many times by... the letters.

He laid his hand on his office door and stopped dead.

Something was wrong.

The door was closed.

Knowing full well that he had left the door slightly open intentionally, he was well aware that someone had disturbed it and perhaps had entered inside. He confirmed that particular someone was long gone as he entered his office. But he felt an odd sense of discomfort as he realized that at least one person (perhaps more) had gone near his desk. The letters sat there, yes -- but they were folded too precisely.

His face warmed as he considered that the contents of those letters had become common knowledge in the Aoiya. Perhaps that was the reason for the odd look Okon had given him? But even so, it would not explain her odd words. There was no mention of black silk or packed milk within them. He scanned the letters again to be certain of that fact, his mind simultaneously contemplating that of those in the Aoiya, she was least likely to have made that decision to enter his office and invade his privacy so horribly. Okon could not have read the letters -- but rather someone else. As for who -- the person he suspected most capable of that was nowhere inside this compound.

Okina returned later for dinner, with little to say. What he did in the few hours he had disappeared he did not reveal to Aoshi, or apparently anyone. Everyone had already turned their attention solely to the task of tending to the unconscious Misao. And so the odd matter was hidden away or forgotten, just like the letters Aoshi had made sure to secret away to a much more secure place.

But the matter, in fact, was not destined to lie quietly. Not when the reason for Okina's convenient disappearance appeared suddenly in Aizu, several weeks later, in the form of a small, light box addressed to the Doctor Takani. Megumi Takani -- recognizing the postmark and hoping it to be the valuable scraps of writing that she had left behind -- opened it immediately. But when her fingers touched the soft contents inside, she inhaled sharply. Black silk -- amongst probably the finest from China. But as she pulled the strangely cut cloth out of the box and held it against her, she wondered exactly what it was for.