Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki and Viz comics, not me. I am just borrowing him for my own, perverse, and totally non-profit amusement. ^_^x

This fic contains MAJOR SPOILERS for the Jinchuu arc of the Rurouni Kenshin manga! If you want to get caught up before reading, you can find translations of the manga at Maigo-chan's site: maigo-chan . org / ruroken . htm [you have to take out the spaces...grr, ff . net]

Illustrations for this fic can be found on the main page of my livejournal, which is linked to from my author page.



Requiem for a Dream
Chapter Two: Black Tears

***

Kaoru stood in the doorway of the Gyu-Nabe Akabeko and stared at the place where she had last seen him. She was not looking for him. She knew he wasn't there, would never be there again. She simply did not have the energy to turn away, and couldn't think of a reason to do so besides.

She was still there when Tae came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Kaoru?" she said cautiously. "Where is Ken-san?"

"Gone," said Kaoru.

"'Gone?' Gone where?"

"I don't know," said Kaoru.

Tae's eyes widened. "Goodness...when will he be back? What did he say?"

Kaoru shook her head. "He's just...gone," she whispered, swallowing hard. "I'm very tired, Tae-san. I think I'm going to go home. Please tell Yahiko where I am when he wakes up."

"Of course, but..."

"Thank you," said Kaoru. She left without looking up, the Akabeko already forgotten, the whole of her concentration focused on staying upright, on navigating streets and alleyways, on remembering to breath. She willed her feet to move, her knees to hold her, her heart to beat. She gripped the hem of her kimono to keep her hands from shaking.

She was distantly aware of being stared at as she walked, catching her name in curious whispers. She stumbled through pockets of memory, jarred by the aggressive familiarity of storefronts and street corners. He had crouched by that wall as he fought the police swordsmen. Had his pocket picked by Yahiko on that bridge. Held her under those trees before leaving for Kyoto.

Uramura had left a note for him on the gate. She opened and read it without thinking. It was a list of names that included Tanaka Yuki's. She pocketed the slip of paper and shuffled into the yard.

The body was gone, as was the kimono that had covered it. But she could still see the scuffmarks of sandals in the dirt, and the dark stain that arced across the ground.

She slid back the door of her house, walked to her room, picked up her mother's mirror, carried it to the kitchen, filled the washbasin with water, propped the mirror up on the windowsill, and looked at herself for the first time since yesterday.

She had forgotten about the makeup. Her reasons for wearing it seemed an age past. Dark trails of eyeliner streaked from her eyes, tracing the paths of tears along her cheeks, mingling with hints of blush and white foundation. Her lipstick was a smear of red, dragged across her mouth by the back of her hand.

She splashed her face with water, rubbing at the powders and pastes of cosmetics, the salt of dried tears, the sour traces of vomit that clung to the corners of her mouth. She washed away a night of shock and waiting and hopelessness. She watched a year of struggle and worry and doubt and love swirl with the water down the drain.

She dried herself and walked back to her room. She carefully unwrapped the obi from her waist and slid her kimono from her shoulders. Each was folded and placed on the tatami at the center of the room. Another kimono and obi soon joined them. Then the lacquered box of cosmetics. Then her mother's hairpins. She changed into a hakama and gi, picked up the small pile from her floor and carried it into the room where he had slept.

He had been a man of few possessions, but he had not taken everything with him. Soon her pile had grown a little, with spare clothes and ties for his hair, a cloth for polishing his blade, an outdated map of Honshuu that showed the old provinces, a well-worn photograph of a woman Kaoru didn't recognize. These things were wrapped in the comforter she had bought for him when they'd returned from Kyoto.

She carried the bundle outside and across the yard, to the storage shed that stood at the back of the grounds. She left it with the dusty remnants of her childhood and locked the door behind her.

Yahiko was waiting for her in front of the dojo, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "What're you doing?" he asked blearily. "Where's Kenshin?"

"Not here," she said simply. "I'm going to go make breakfast. What would you like?"

"Whaddya mean, 'not here?'" asked Yahiko. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

"Well, when's he getting back?"

"He's not."

Kaoru expected Yahiko to argue, to insist that they go searching for him, to demand an explanation for why she hadn't started already. However, he made no move to do so, now. He looked up at her gravely, his brows knitted as he considered her face. Their eyes met, his far older than they should have been, hers dry and red around the edges. A flicker of pain passed across his features, gone before she could even be sure it had been there.

"I'll make the rice," he said finally. He reached out and took her hand, and they walked together across the yard and into the kitchen.

***

Kenshin did not know where he was going, other than away. He had chosen this road because it was small and unfamiliar, barely more than a dirt path that wound through evergreen forests and into the mountains. There were no inns, no post towns, no checkpoints. Only wilderness and the dry stubble of rice paddies after harvest.

He felt himself slipping into old rhythms. While the weather was still warm, he would sleep under the trees, his back against the broad trunk of a cryptomeria and his sakabatou propped up on his shoulder. When winter set in, he would stop at one of the thatched-roof farmhouses, trading an afternoon's work for a night in their barn. His smile would win the trust of strangers when he needed it, and the swords at his belt would discourage them when he did not.

He counted his footsteps as he walked, abstracting distance into the comfort of numbers. Each stride became a unit of measurement wholly separate from its purpose, which was to put as much distance as possible between himself and Tokyo. He listened to the rustle of his hakama, the scratch of his sandals on the dirt road, and tried very hard not to think about how she had looked when she told him she did not want to see him again.

There were other travelers on the road, a group of young men dressed for a long journey. As Kenshin had no interest in company or conversation, he had fallen behind them and maintained a prudent distance. They showed no sign of having noticed him at all, and walked for many miles speaking quietly among themselves, leaving Kenshin alone to count in peace.

He was at forty-two thousand, two hundred and fifty-three when the first drop of rain fell. At forty-two thousand, two hundred and eighty-seven, a distant snarl of thunder rumbled across the countryside. At forty-two thousand, three hundred and five, a fearsome wind tore through the pines and kicked up waves in the irrigation ditch beside the road.

The group of travelers had stopped at a divide in the road, huddled under a broad umbrella made of bamboo and oiled paper. As Kenshin passed they looked up from the map they were holding and waved him over.

"Do you know this prefecture at all?" asked the one holding the map. "This storm looks like it might get nasty. We thought we might want to find an inn."

"It's a typhoon," said Kenshin shortly. "You can tell by the color of the sky."

"Ah," said the man, frowning. "And the inn?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not familiar with this area," said Kenshin. He offered an almost imperceptible bow. "If you'll excuse me."

They were the first words he had spoken since leaving the Akabeko, and his voice sounded strange in his ears. He turned and hurried away down the road, unable to stop the shiver that crawled down his back. The calm detachment of shock was broken. He was suddenly aware of the rain on his face and the wind that pulled at his clothes and made his joints ache with cold.

He had lived on the road for most of his life, and he knew what that night would bring. If he didn't find a place to stay out of the storm, he would be half-drowned by morning, too tired and too sick to travel for several days.

There were rapid footsteps behind him, and Kenshin's hand jerked toward the hilt of his sword as he turned to look. But it was only the map-reading traveler again, struggling with his umbrella against the wind. "There's a town nearby," he said, grinning through the rain. "We're going to go find a place to spend the night. Seeing as you're on your own, we thought you might want to come with us. Strength in numbers and all that."

Kenshin hesitated, his fingers still brushing against the hilt. But they were not asking for him to join their party, only to walk with them into town. Surely he could handle such a small inconvenience for the sake of a dry futon and space on someone's floor.

"Thank you," he said, and he followed them down a path which snaked through a small wood and across a stream before connecting with a much larger road.

"You must be very brave or very foolish to ignore the edict against carrying swords," one of them said conversationally.

"I'm a swordsman," said Kenshin. "I can't help my nature."

"True enough," the other man murmured. He did not press the matter further.

***

When Tae came by the Kamiya dojo in the early afternoon, Yahiko was wrestling with futons in the yard. They had been dragged out of the house and hung on stout bamboo polls, and he was beating them with a bokken, throwing fine clouds of dust into the air. Kaoru stood a short distance away, sweeping the ground in front of the gate. It was tinged red as if with rust, but the shock of spattered black moisture was gone.

"What's all this?" asked Tae.

"What's it look like?" Yahiko grunted, straightening.

"The place was due for a good clean," said Kaoru. She leaned the broom against the entryway and pushed the hair out of her face. "Out with the old, in with the new."

"I suppose," said Tae. She looked around helplessly. This was clearly not what she had expected. "Ah...how are you, Kaoru-chan? Are you....feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," said Kaoru.

"But...Ken-san..."

"I'm fine," Kaoru grated, snatching up the broom again and stomping over to the futons.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Tae asked, trotting along after her.

Kaoru thwacked the nearest futon with her broom, and a cloud of dust flew back from it that was thick enough to make her cough. "I think we have it under control," she said, aiming her next swing.

"Are you sure? Nothing I could help you with?" Tae glanced at Yahiko. "Perhaps inside...? You have one less set of hands, after all, and -"

Kaoru hit the futon so ferociously that the bamboo frame supporting it was overwhelmed. There was a sharp crack of splintering wood, and the structure tilted dramatically, causing the row of futons to slide along the polls toward the ground.

Yahiko dropped the bokken and scrambled to rescue them, catching the loose end of the poll and hefting it up to his shoulders. Kaoru rushed to tie it back in place, mumbling apologies.

"Maybe we could do the dishes," she said feebly when she was done.

"Don't let her touch anything she can break," Yahiko grumbled, picking the bokken up off the ground.

Tae did not speak again until they were in the kitchen, standing on either side of the washbasin with a stack of dirty rice bowls between them. "Now, tell me what's going on," she said, her voice low. She glanced out of the small window, as if to see if Yahiko could hear them.

Kaoru reached for one of the bowls and started scrubbing at it, not wanting to look Tae in the eye. "I already told you, we're cleaning."

"That's not what I mean!" Tae hissed. "Where is Kenshin? When is he getting back?"

"I don't know," said Kaoru flatly. "And he's not."

"That's ridiculous," said Tae, her tone matter-of-fact. "He's in love with you. He wants to marry you and take care you of and give you a home full of children."

Kaoru dropped the scrub brush back into the sink and rubbed her temples. "Tae, I really don't want to talk about this..."

"What did he do to make you think he's not coming back?"

"He said 'goodbye' to me...and it was the 'I'm never going to see you again' sort of goodbye, so don't try and tell me I'm overreacting."

"But he's done this before!" said Tae. "This is just like when he left for Kyoto, and he came back from that, didn't he?"

"Only because we all chased after him."

"Then why aren't you doing that now? Why are you standing here in this kitchen when the man that you love is wandering off without you?"

"You're being dramatic," said Kaoru, reaching for another bowl.

"Answer the question!"

"Because I don't want to, all right?" Kaoru snapped. "I have better things to do with my life than sit around waiting for him to figure himself out. I told him he didn't have to go, I told him that if he ran off like this again that I didn't want anything to do with him, and I don't."

"But -"

"If he cares so little about what he has here that he's willing to throw it away at the first sign of trouble, then I'm done with him, Tae. I've had enough."

Tae was quiet for a very long time. She picked up the pot that Yahiko had used to cook the rice, and it wasn't until she had washed and dried it and put it away that she spoke again. "Is that how you really feel, Kaoru-chan?"

"Yes."

"Well, then..." Tae sighed, leaning on the edge of the basin. "There's not much for me to say. Except that what I want is for you to be happy."

"I am," said Kaoru, smiling a little. "Or at least, I will be."

"All right," said Tae.

Enough time had passed that when the two women slid back the door of the house, Yahiko had already moved on to another task. The futons had been neatly folded and stacked near the edge of the porch, replaced on the bamboo frames by the remains of yesterday's laundry. Yahiko had filled the lower rungs, and now struggled to pull the last of the sheets over a poll that was much to high for him to easily reach.

Kaoru stopped in the doorway, watching him. This had never been his chore to take care of, not even when Kenshin was injured or away. Despite how much he'd grown in the last year, he was still too small to quite mange it on his own. But then, he was so young. He would be taller than Kenshin someday. Maybe even as tall as Sano...

"Kaoru!" Tae gasped. "What's wrong?"

It was only then that she noticed that she was crying. And as soon as the tears were acknowledged they tumbled out of her control, streaming down her face as she hid it behind her palms.

***

True to their word, his companions from the road had left him to his own devices as soon as they reached the inn. He had waited patiently just inside the entrance, wringing the rainwater out of his clothes and hair while they were shown to their rooms. Several maids tried to lead him over to the firepit at the heart of the inn, but their offers were refused with cool formality. He was not in the mood for female companionship.

A short while later the proprietor returned, and Kenshin followed him obediently in the opposite direction, away from the raucous laughter that filtered through thin walls and paper screens. Kenshin suspected the maids had found someone else to busy themselves with.

"Is this your first time in Yamanashi?" the innkeeper asked, holding his lantern aloft. He was old and worn around the edges, his skin like parchment in the soft light.

"Yes," said Kenshin.

"Not many travelers come by this way anymore," said the innkeeper. "There was a time when this road was one of the easier routes to Kyoto, you see, when Edo was still a han and even a lonely widow needed papers to cross the border." He raised the lantern to peer down a darkened hallway. "But without the old sekisho, there's really no need for a path as meandering as this one. They all walk the Tokaido, now, stopping at post towns for a night in a fancy Honjin.

"Ah, but surely you're too young to remember any of that," he sighed, shaking his head. "Forgive an old man for rambling."

"You'd be surprised at what I remember," Kenshin murmured.

But the innkeeper was no longer listening, having slid aside the door to one of the rooms and bowed deeply as an invitation for Kenshin to enter before him. It was small but comfortable, with fresh, clean mats on the floor and an arrangement of late autumn flowers in the tokonoma. A futon and a light meal of pickled vegetables, cold fish and rice had already been laid out. The windows were tightly shuttered against the storm, rattling in the wind as it swirled past.

"Please forgive the view," said the innkeeper. "You can usually see Fuji-san from here. Though I suppose on a night like this it can't be helped." When the younger man did not reply, he smiled, set the lantern down, and left.

The meal was filling and well-prepared, but Kenshin was only distantly aware of this. He chewed and swallowed automatically, out of necessity more than desire. When he was finished, he left the dishes in the hall outside his room for a maid to collect in the morning.

He slowly undressed, until he wore only his kimono, his hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck. There was no kamiza there, of course, but he murmured a few words for his parents and for his wife, gone but not yet forgotten. Then he put out the lantern, slipped under the futon's light blanket, and closed his eyes. He listened to the storm that raged beyond the shutters, the creak of swaying branches and the whistling of the wind as it forced itself through cracks in the inn's defenses. He saw her face through a drowsy haze, holding her arms out in welcome as she said goodbye, tears steaming down her cheeks despite her smiling mouth. And then he slept.

***

It was cold and windy in Tokyo that night, hints of a much larger storm grazing the city's western outskirts. Kaoru sat alone on the edge of her porch, a cooling teacup clasped in her hands, her bare toes tracing patterns in the dust. She had cried for hours, unable to stop, unable to speak, choking on sobs while Tae rubbed her back and murmured soft words of comfort. But now that the flood of grief had spent itself, her chest ached with emptiness.

She knew that she should keep herself busy. That she should try and rebuild the reputation of her dojo, give more lessons at neighboring schools and find new students for her own. She should concentrate on Yahiko and his education, on making sure the essentials were taken care of, on finding a place for herself in a world that Kenshin was not in.

She wanted to forget. She wished she did not care. But every object in her home, every person she saw was connected to him -- touchstones of memory she could not ignore. Tae had said it would take time to move on. Kaoru was not interested in waiting.

***

He woke to the sound of footsteps in the hallway, barely discernible beneath the howling wind but unmistakable once noticed. The groan of a loose floorboard, the soft hiss of a screen as it slid aside and back again, the faint crackling of straw tatami.

There were four of them, young men of medium build, radiating ki that was nervous but determined. Kenshin kept his breathing even and his body relaxed, and listened as swords were unsheathed with a slow, metallic sigh.

His sakabatou and wakizashi were on the floor next to him. He could overpower these men without too much effort, their inexperience obvious in the audible rasp of their breath. He walked through the necessary actions in his mind, disarmed and subdued his attackers in half a dozen ways, as many fatal as not, as they crept toward his futon.

They were so close, he could feel the warmth of their bodies, sense the razor edges of swords being raised for a killing blow. But he made no move to interfere, unable to think of a reason why he should. Perhaps it would be best if it ended this way, an anonymous face in an unfamiliar landscape. A fitting end for a rurouni with blood on his hands.

If he was never going to see her again, there seemed no point in struggling against fate.

"For Yuki-kun," one of them whispered.

"For Saigou-sama," answered another.

Their swords whistled down through air.

There was a sudden burst of rapid footfalls in the corridor. And then a crash of splintering wood and torn paper as someone burst through the screens, deafening after the near-silence of attempted assassination. There was a purposeful rush of movement, startled cries cut short by metal slicing through flesh and bone, the gentle patter of blood and the dull thud of bodies, a warm wash of moisture on Kenshin's face.

He opened his eyes, reached belatedly for his sword, and sat up.

A thin man in a policemen's uniform knelt in front of the tokonoma, his back to the room. He wiped the blood from his blade with a cloth, sheathed it, and place it carefully on the floor beside him.

"About time you woke up," he said.

"I've been awake since they reached the door."

"In that case, I find your apparent death wish an amusing new development."

Kenshin sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. They came away slick with blood. "What are you doing here, Saitou?" he asked, staring at them in the darkness.

A soft chuckle. "At the moment? Protecting you from your own stupidity."

Kenshin surveyed the room, lit only by strangled beams of moonlight that crept through the shutters. There were three corpses in varying stages of dismemberment. Kenshin recognized them as the other travelers staying at the inn, the ones he had met on the road. "Was it really necessary to kill them?"

"Probably not," said Saitou. "But I think you may have forfeited the right to complain when you decided to lay there like a sack of rice. Besides, I left one of them alive." He pointed to the fourth man, who was missing both legs below the knee, and had dragged himself part way across the room.

Kenshin stood, picking up his blanket and tearing it into strips as he knelt beside the survivor. "Hold still," he muttered. Saitou watched him with a closed expression as he dressed the man's wounds, smearing them with the ointment Megumi had given him before wrapping them in bandages.

"I assume you let him live so you could question him," Kenshin said when he had finished. "I'm going to go downstairs and tell the innkeeper what happened. Finish your business with this man while I'm gone. I'd rather not witness one of your interrogations."

Kenshin rose, walked across the room and stepped over the remains of the door. He found the innkeeper and one of the maids hovering at the end of the hall, their faces white with fear. The innkeeper held a candle, and its light cast trembling shadows on the walls.

"I was attacked," said Kenshin.

"There's a policeman," whispered the maid, "a policeman with a sword, he's in another room just down -"

"I've already spoken with him," said Kenshin. "Please wait downstairs while we sort things out."

"But the other guests!" the innkeeper protested. "What if they ask questions?"

"Is there anyone staying here tonight aside from myself, the policeman, and the party I arrived with?"

"N-no..."

"Then there won't be any questions."

***

Kenshin waited at the end of the hall for some time after the innkeeper and maid had gone. The storm was still loud enough to muffle the sounds of Saitou's inquiry, though an occasional cry of pain managed to cut through the din, making Kenshin cringe. He had never enjoyed the suffering of others, not even as a Hitokiri.

When the screams had faded entirely, he returned to what was left of his room.

The bodies had not been moved. But Saitou had dragged the last man across the floor and propped him up in the tokonoma, the walls of the small alcove keeping him forcibly upright. The vase of flowers had been placed on the floor next to him in a bizarre juxtaposition, the fiery orange blossoms of aster bleached of color in the moonlight. He was mercifully unconscious, and the bandaged stumps of his legs were soaked in blood.

Kenshin picked up his neatly folded hakama. He shook them out, briefly checked them for obvious patches of damp red, then pulled them on. "Did you get what you wanted?" he asked, carefully tying them in place.

"Some," said Saitou. He pulled off his bloodstained gloves one finger at a time, first the left and then the right, and drew a small pouch and a box of rolling papers from his breast pocket. "He wasn't nearly as useful as his friends in Tokyo proved to be."

Kenshin paused midway through fastening a tekko to his forearm. "Who do you mean?"

Saitou tapped a line of tobacco onto one of the translucent papers, his tongue flickering out to wet the edge. "The men who attacked you at the Kamiya girls' dojo."

"You caught them?"

"Of course I did."

"What did they say?"

Saitou lit the cigarette, the end flaring suddenly red as he inhaled. He held the smoke in his lungs for a long, luxurious moment, then blew it slowly through pursed lips. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

Kenshin looked away, finishing with the tekko. "Those men were old comrades of mine from the Seinan War. They heard of my dealings with Minister Oukubo and felt I had betrayed the memory of their master. If there's more to their quarrel with me, I feel that I should know about it."

"The man you killed..." Saitou drew out the last word, openly savoring the reaction. "Do you recall his name?"

"Tanaka Yuki."

"And do you know why his death might prove disruptive?" Kenshin's silence was enough of an answer. Saitou chuckled low in his throat. "Perhaps Beppu Shinsuke is more familiar?"

Kenshin struggled beneath a flood of memory. "Saigou-sama's second-in-command," he said, his voice as neutral as he could manage.

"He stepped aside as head of the Kagoshima Shigakkou a short time after you left. Tanaka took his place, and was largely responsible for rebuilding Satsuma after the rebellion. Now that he's dead, the Shigakkou will likely dissolve within six months, assuming they aren't absorbed by other ryuu first." Saitou gestured vaguely at the corpses that surrounded them. "These were friends of his." He pointed to each of them in turn, and then to the unconscious man in the alcove. "Nomura Taisuke, Mutsu Kinmochi, Kouno Momonosuke and the slightly more fortunate Itou Shoujijou, who was kind enough to clarify a few issues for me."

Kenshin knelt on the floor and reached for his tabi. "Such as?"

"There's been talk of rebellion ever since the last one ended. Tanaka was against it -- he knew Kagoshima couldn't take the strain of another war -- but a rival school kept stirring up trouble with the younger samurai. Up until now, our intelligence suggested it was just an upstart ryuu looking to make a name for themselves, but Itou-san here seemed to think otherwise."

"What did he say?"

"Only that there've been more than the usual number of unfamiliar faces," said Saitou. He tapped his cigarette on the edge of the vase of flowers, the ashes hissing softly as they hit the water inside. "And that Tanaka would never have thought to go after you if a man named Kotaro hadn't suggested it."

Kenshin blinked at him. "Kotaro Ryokichi?" he asked hoarsely, the breath suddenly pushed from his lungs.

"You know him?"

Kenshin looked away, pulling his hair into a high sagegami. "We've met."

"How nice for you," Saitou drawled, a wisp of smoke curling around his face as he stubbed out his cigarette on Itou's bandages. He watched as Kenshin stood, picked his swords up off the floor and tied them to the belt of his hakama. Saitou seemed particularly amused by the wakizashi.

"What?" Kenshin snapped.

Saitou took his time in answering, casually occupied with rolling another cigarette. "Have you decided to return to your former profession?"

"No."

Another pause as the cigarette was lit. "You're dressed for the part."

"It seemed appropriate," said Kenshin, lowering his eyes.

"Have you abandoned your idiotic vow not to kill?" Saitou purred.

"Unwillingly."

"A permanent change?"

Kenshin's fingers traced the lines of the sakabatou's hilt, its leather wrappings newly stiff with blood. "I don't know."

Saitou smiled. "Then perhaps there's hope for you, yet."

***

She was nearly finished packing by sunrise. Tae woke a short while later, and found her squatting on the floor of her room with a drawstring bag open in front of her.

"Kaoru-chan, what are you doing?"

Kaoru looked up from the hakama that lay half-folded in her lap. "Packing," she said simply.

"Well, obviously," Tae sighed, kneeling beside her. "But what are you packing for? Where are you going on such short notice?"

Kaoru added the hakama to a neat pile of her belongings and slipped them into her bag. "Kyoto."

"What? Why?"

"I need to get away from here for a few days," said Kaoru. She pulled the bag closed. "There's too much of him in this house."

Tae stared at her incredulously. "And there isn't in Kyoto?"

"He was a different person, then," Kaoru murmured. "Kyoto reminds me of a Himura-san I barely know."

"Oh, so it's 'Himura-san,' now?" said Tae, fixing her with a narrow look.

Kaoru scowled. "I'm tired of hearing his name, all right? And I can't call him 'Battousai'..."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not who he is anymore," said Kaoru, in a tone not meant to be argued with.

But Tae wasn't ready to give up. "Who will you stay with?" she asked sharply.

"Misao-chan and Aoi-sama."

"But they don't know you're coming!"

"I'll send a telegraph."

"That's so expensive!"

"Good thing you're not paying for it, then."

Tae shook her head. "Kaoru-chan, I -"

"What's going on?"

Both women turned toward the door to Kaoru's room. Yahiko was standing in the hall, his hair mussed and his eyes half-lidded, still wearing the light kimono that he slept in. He stifled a yawn. "Why're you two up so early?"

"I have to go away for a little while," said Kaoru. "I was hoping to catch the first train."

"Are you going to look for Kenshin?"

Kaoru tried her best not to flinch. "I don't think he wants to be looked for," she said.

Yahiko considered this for a moment. "I should probably stay here at the Dojo, then," he said, in a businesslike tone that would have been comical had any other boy his age attempted it. "Leave me some cash so I don't starve, all right?"

"All right," said Kaoru. She stood, pulling the bag over her shoulder. "Take care of Tae and Tsubame-chan. I'll be back soon."

She handed him a small purse, pulled him into brief but no doubt mortifying hug and left, hurrying down the roads of Asakusa before she could think better of it.

***

Kenshin stood quietly to the side as Saitou explained a sanitized version of what had happened to the local police, sharing just enough information about the unconscious survivor to guarantee they would keep him in their custody. The chief recognized the name Fujita Goro, and when a connection to Uramura was mentioned he accepted Saitou's story without question.

"If that's all," Saitou was saying, unnervingly polite, "my companion and I really must be going."

"Of course, of course" said the chief. "We can manage things from here. I'm sorry that such a thing happened in my district."

Saitou offered a polite smile and an appropriately humble bow, then slipped away from the gathering crowd before anyone else could delay him. Kenshin joined him a few yards down the road, and they walked together for nearly a mile before either man spoke.

"The Koshu Kaido is just north of here," said Saitou, breaking the silence.

Kenshin raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"That would be the fastest route to Kyoto."

"I'm not going to Kyoto," said Kenshin.

"Is that so?"

Kenshin snorted. "You know where I'm going, Saitou. You wouldn't be here, otherwise."

Saitou grinned. "Indulge me. Your little mission statements are always good for a laugh."

Kenshin watched the road pass under him, collecting his thoughts. "Kagoshima is in decline," he said. "The Shigakkou schools that were Saigou-sama's legacy have grown weak and easily corrupted, and the one man who stood in the way of hopeless rebellion is dead by my own hand." Kenshin raised his head, looking up at Saitou though a curtain of fringe. "What can I do but return to Satsuma and try to set things right again?"

"Go back to Tokyo and bed that homely Kamiya girl." Saitou's words were slow and measured, calculated to draw out a reaction. He was visibly disappointed when Kenshin declined to provide one. "Though I suppose that's not an option," he said finally. "Not for you."

"No," said Kenshin. "Not for me."

***

Glossary:

Bokken - Wooden sword, used for practice.
Han - Domain held by a daimyou (warlord). Also translated as "clan" and "fief."
Honjin - The largest inn in a post town.
Honshuu - Largest of the Japanese islands, where Kyoto and Tokyo are located.
Kagoshima - A prefecture formerly known as Satsuma; also a city within it.
Kamiza - A small shinto shrine; a home for spirits, particularly those of one's ancestors.
Koshu Kaido - One of the major highways between Tokyo and Kyoto.
Post Town - Designated rest stops along the major highways in the Tokugawa era.
-Sama - Respectful honorific.
Satsuma - Southernmost province on the island of Kyuushuu during the Tokugawa era; led by Saigou into rebellion against the Meiji government in 1877.
Seinan War - Another name for the Satsuma Rebellion.
Sekisho - Inspection stations along the major highways.
Shigakkou - Private military academies founded by Saigou Takamori.
Tokaido - The busiest of the highways between Tokyo and Kyoto. (Lit. "Tokai Road.")
Tokonoma - A decorative alcove, used for displaying scrolls, flower arrangements and other art objects.
Yamanashi - A prefecture west of Tokyo.

***

First off, thanks so much to my amazing, talented and unbelievably PROMPT betas, Jaida, Rene and Drea!! You guys rock my world. I was really nervous about this chapter, and you helped calm me down enough to finish the thing and just POST it already. ^_-

Many thanks, also, to everyone who was kind enough to review my last chapter: White Moon Universe Guard, yoshi1013 (I can't believe you forgot the beheading, you dorque XD ). Wolf ^-^X (he might come back....or, he might not....muahahaha!!), beriath, Sephira jo (I might do an AU at some point, but dun worry - this one's strictly canon), dreadono (you rox, babe), Aharah Musici (Kenshin's outta there for now....but Sano might show up, eventually ^_-), Faint (eep *writes*), Lilfrozenfire, Sean Montgomery (hope you weren't disappointed!), Chiri (GEH, still need to read your fic O_o), joyouschild (I'm so glad I convinced you with my Ken/Kaoru! I was really worried about that, actually :) ), dee and Resmiranda (you and your smut demands!! ^_-)

So...yes! Hope that everyone liked it! If I'm lucky, the next chapter won't take quite so long ^_^