Meiji 11, early summer

The room is dim, and large enough that the ambient light barely reaches to the corners. Even though the door is closed, the slight drafts are a soothing whisper. The cushion slightly softens the tatami mats under my legs, but it cannot soften the memories. These are inescapable truths, unalterable facts of the past.

"I don't care. Battousai's death is all that matters."

"I don't care if it is a villain's sword. If it kills Battousai, it's good enough."

That which has been said cannot be unsaid. The saying of some things, however, is more regrettable than others...

"Get out of here. And never show your face to me again."

"It's the promised time, Himura Battousai... This is what I threw away everything for. Honor. Pity. Good and Evil. I'll destroy you now, and the glory of the strongest will fall into my hands. Then, my Bakumatsu and my life as the final Okashira can all end."

The glory of the strongest. Once it was all-consuming, but I can now clearly see it for the pipe dream it is.

"Until the name of "Strongest" is in my hands, this battle will not be over."

"To defeat you and win the title of "Strongest," I'd change anything."

His words were truth. In chasing the title of strongest, I harmed the memory of the four who died for me, and the living who waited for me. Indeed, my soul was lost in a blind alley. Even still, I do not know how to proceed. It has been a month, and I have not yet come to terms with the past.

Footsteps sound on the walkway outside; a group of people is coming. The door slides open. Silence for a moment, then Battousai- no, Himura speaks.

"We're leaving now. Aoishi... if we ever get a chance, let's have a drink some time."

A drink? With him? The thought is absurd, to share a drink with the man who has been my enemy for so long. Besides...

"I'm sorry, but I don't drink." Despite the antics of Okina, alcohol is prohibited to the Oniwabanshuu. In these times of peace, Okina has chosen to relax the strictures we once upheld.

"I see." His voice calls back my wandering thoughts, and I detect a disappointed note. To this man, who called me back from darkness, a drink is a small way to repay him. Still, I will not partake of alcohol.

"But if it were for tea, it would be my pleasure." That should satisfy him, and the words are true. I would enjoy taking tea with this man. I do not know if we will ever have the opportunity, but if one comes, I will uphold this promise. Footsteps again. They are leaving to return to Tokyo. The light against the wall indicates that Misao left the door open, and the breeze stirs my hair as I return to my contemplations.

Meiji 11, summer

"I have a silly little story to tell..." I tune her out. Lately, Misao has taken to disrupting my quiet time with attempts at humor, in an attempt to fulfill some promise to Himura. While I appreciate her efforts at attempting to cheer me up, I do not appreciate the interruptions, and it is too soon for me to be able to smile again. My past sins still weigh heavily upon me, and the writings of the philosophers concerning sin and forgiveness seem to me to be sophistry.

"..Hey, leave that bucket alone!" It seems she has finished, although I doubt the punchline would have made more sense if I had paid attention. Misao's grasp of humor leaves much to be desired. Hopefully she won't throw anything at me like last time. Ah, even worse. She's crying at Okina. The sound grates on my ears, and I try to tune it out. Okina at least is fairly good at consoling her, although it pains me to contemplate that it may be because he has had much practice during the time I was gone. I... am as good at consoling a crying woman as I am at keeping my subordinates alive, or as I am at not betraying the memories of my friends.

"From Kaoru-san?!" Misao's outburst draws my attention again. The crying has ceased, fortunately, and her voice sounds focused. That is good. A focused Misao is a Misao that is too busy to be sad.

"Aoshi." Although I do not turn to face him, I lift my head from my reading to indicate that I am listening. "I don't like the idea of Misao going alone. Go with her. Then, if they need you, you can help Himura and the others." A surprising idea. Helping Himura and his friends would be a start toward making amends, however...

"I don't think they'll need my help. But I'll go have the cup of tea I promised." I'll have to sharpen my kodachi before we leave; I haven't been properly maintaining it. I'll have to find my uniform as well, and make sure Misao packs anything she might need. I believe she mentioned a diary, so some sort of waterproof wrapping to safely transport it. I shake my head and rise. Now is not the time for wandering thoughts. For the first time in months, I have something meaningful to do. And yet, I can't bring myself to smile about it. It seems I will fulfil my promise to Himura before Misao does.

Meiji 11, autumn

"Sorry to be sudden about this, but if the opportunity got away, it's unknown when the next one would have come around. So."

"Aa." Himura is right. It is possible we will not see each other again. "I don't think being an average innkeeper is so bad."

"I really owe you for recent matters. Thanks."

"Aa." Perhaps, now, I can consider the debt repaid. "This was the final work of the Oniwabanshuu okashira."

"Although you'll be facing foes with unknown techniques, don't murder too many people, okay?" That is a joke. I hope. My sense of humor has been slow in returning.

"Is that your entire perspective? Well, in any case, let's just say that I agree." I do. "Now that the new age has come, the shadow techniques should be quietly, secretly destroyed."

I finish my tea, and rise to leave. The Kamiya girl brought tea cakes. Thoughtful, but...

"Not necessary. It's already over."

She attempts to thank me. Neither she nor Himura seem to understand that I was obligated to do this. I would have done it anyway, of course, but thanks are unnecessary. It seems Misao was waiting for us to finish, as well. She wants to stay here. It's understandable; she has never had friends around her own age. I wouldn't mind staying, but there is still one thing that needs to be done before we return to the Aoiya. She will understand.

"Seasons in the mountains are a step faster than the plains. If we leave later than this, the earth will freeze and we'll have to wait until spring. Before that happens, we should bury them in a place with more sunlight."

Meiji 11, late autumn

The grave site is covered by a fresh layer of fallen leaves. Although I would prefer if it were clean, the leaves are undisturbed, which shows that at least not a single person has been here since I last left. The forest is peaceful, but it is not a serene peace. It is the motionlessness of a predator waiting to pounce, or prey preparing to bolt. Misao hasn't spoken a word since we entered the forest; perhaps she finds the atmosphere oppressive. At the time I buried them here, I thought this atmopshere would suit their tastes, but in my reflections following my fight with Himura, I have come to believe that it was merely a reflection of my own darkened spirit. I do not expect Misao to understand this, however, nor do I wish to attempt to explain it. Despite my warnings that the task is likely to be gruesome, she would not be dissuaded from assisting. She was quite close to them, especially Hannya, and I believe she seeks closure, although it may have been easier on her to simply join me for the reburial.

The unearthing reminds me unpleasantly of digging up Gein's flesh puppet and validating that it was not Kamiya Kaoru. Even at my worst, having given myself over entirely to madness, I believe I was still better than him, who pursued the path of violence and death with full sanity. Misao's shovelling slows, and finally stops, and she sits to wait. It does not take me long to finish uncovering the four heads, which have been reduced to skulls by decomposition. I gather them carefully, and we return to the hill we chose earlier as their new, and final, resting place.

It is low hill, barely more than a rise, but it is free of trees, and reaches above the forest. The grass here is thick and lush, thriving in the sunlight. The roots make digging the new graves difficult, and we persevere. I appreciate that Misao is carrying out this task in silence; it does seem like something that should be profaned with speech. Having reburied the heads, we begin collecting rocks for cairns. I would have like to bring the four gravestones from the forest, but they were too large to carry this distance. Shikijo would have prefered a single large rock, I believe, but I also know he would be happy with the care Misao is taking placing the stones. Although Hannya was her favorite 'uncle,' the other three adored her as well.

I place the last stone, and pause. This will likely be the last time I can come here; certainly I won't be able to visit often, it's too far from Kyoto for an innkeeper to make the trip regularly. I have said my farewells to them twice before, this will be the third and final time. I wait for Misao to compose herself, then push her gently away from the graves and toward our home.

Meiji 12, spring

"Aooooshiiiiii-saaaamaaaa!"

Misao's call precedes the door slamming open, as always. Some day, perhaps, she'll learn to simply open a door. Since our return from Tokyo, she hasn't even bothered to knock. Still, I've learned that ignoring her never works, so best to see what she wants and return to my meditations, although lately it feels more like habit, and I find my mind wanderi-

"Aoishi-sama!"

Like that. "Yes, Misao?"

"Okina wants to see you. I told him you were meditating, and he said that you've been meditating too much. 'The body rots while the mind wanders,' or something. You have been doing nothing but meditating lately. When was the last time you practiced? Mou, Aoshi-sama! Are you even listening to me?"

"Aa." I stand, and she grabs my arm and pulls me out the door. Perhaps it does not occur to her to simply tell me where Okina is, or perhaps she wants an excuse to be there.

"Hurry up! We're going to the practice yard after this. You promised me last week, remember?"

I did speak words to that effect, although I believe my intent was more of an offer to supervise her solo practice. Exercise does sound good, though, and Okina does have a point. Meditation is merely a single method of discipline, and I have been lax in my exercises.

Ah. Misao seems to be taking me to the office of the Aoiya. Interesting. It seems that Okina wishes to speak business with me; if it were personal, he'd be in the tea room. I suspect I know what he wants, and I have already considered it.

"Aoshi." He rises to greet me as we enter the room. He nods to Misao, but doesn't ask her to leave. Very interesting. "I'd like you to consider working-"

"Yes." I cut him off. There is no point in wasting his time letting him attempt to persuade me to something I've already decided to do.

"I see. And-"

"Misao as well. She needs to learn a trade to support herself in this era." I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy doing that, but I would never admit to it, either. Ah, judging by the way she has leapt to her feet and the indignant look on her face, she has figured out what we are talking about and does not approve.

"Aoshi-sama!" Yes, quite indignant. "We're ninja of the Oniwabanshuu! It's a waste of our skills to..." She's learning. This time last year she'd have complained first and considered later. Her expression changes from indignant to thoughtful as she considers the former ninja currently working as restauranteurs, and the state of Aoiya's finances. Okina has made no secret of the fact that the Aoiya is in poor financial condition after being destroyed last summer, and while none of them have complained about our presence here, Misao has surely been aware of the imposition. I hope.

"I'll do it! I'll be the best waitress Kyoto has ever seen!" Okina smiles at her pronouncement, and I feel a sudden chill.

"Very good then. I believe you told me Aoshi has agreed to supervise your training, so I'll leave you to it. You start next week."

Meiji 13, summer

Chop-chop. Chop-chop. Although it's been a year, the weight of the kitchen knives still feels wrong in my hands. Kuro says that having an assistant cook who can cut vegetables with two knives at the same time is a blessing, but Misao still thinks it's an insult to me skills. Cutting vegetables is boring. And yet, I find it much more agreeable than cutting people. I still carry my kodachi, hidden underneath my apron. All of the former ninja working at the Aoiya carry their weapons, or keep them close at hand. To my knowledge, they've never been necessary, but old habits die hard.

Learning to cook has been quite the adjustment, as well. Apparently, I have the capability to be a reasonable cook, but I need more practice. Thus, Kuro is teaching me. He has a gift for cooking, although his tastes run toward spicier than I prefer. Unfortunately, he cannot impart his intuitive understanding of spices, and I have been forbidden from using anything but prepared mixtures indefinitely.

"Aoshi-san! Are they almost ready yet?" Misao is an excellent waitress. She is friendly and cheerful, and remembers the customers by name, but she doesn't understand that cooking things properly takes time and cannot be rushed. I slide the vegetables into the pot and add a carefully measured amount of mixed spices and seasonings. "Another minute!" The first time I raised my voice to call out of the kitchen, Omasu almost dropped a tray of food. She is younger than the rest of here, and does not remember me well, except as the brooding ex-Okashira who spent several months nearly silent. The vegetables are done, and I divide them neatly onto two plates and slide them onto a tray as Shiro hands it to Okon. Sometimes being former ninja has its advantages. With a few exceptions from Misao's first week, the Aoiya hasn't suffered a dropped meal or broken dish in years. There was a period of a few months back when it was apparently a game amongst the local children to try to trip the staff to see them avoid dropping things, but I had words with several parents, and the incidents stopped quickly.

"Whew!" Misao walks into the kitchen empty-handed, wiping her forehead. "Looks like the rush is over!" She sprawls into a chair. "No new customers, and just one more family finishing lunch now. She turns puppy-dog eyes on me. "Make me a stir-fry, pleeeaase?" A joke. She's a better cook than I am, but Okon and Omasu need more help out front, and Okina has forbidden me from interacting with the customers until I remember how to smile.

I look her up and down. "You won't fit in the pot." Her eyes widen, then she looks sharply to the side at the sound of breaking ceramic. Kuro dropped his cup. I raise an eyebrow marginally and he shakes his head. Misao stares after me as I leave the kitchen to fetch more vegetables. It isn't until I reach the pantry that she finds her voice. "Aoshi-san, that's not fair! I don't want to cook!"

Here, alone and unwatched, I can smile.

Meiji 14, autumn

"Aoshi! Aoshi! They said yes!" I brace myself, but she still knocks me off balance when she throws herself at me. I share her excitement, although I'm rather more restrained about it. The building and property weren't our first choice, but they're very good for what we're paying for them. The couple living there is moving into a bigger space to have room for their parents and their children, and the ground floor, a former shop, will be easy to convert into an eating establishment. It will take a significant amount of cleaning, but because they gave us such a good price, we'll be able to hire help for the remodelling. I don't think Misao knows that they gave us a discount for her help during the Shishio incident, but she's a smart woman, and I'm certain she'll figure it out.

"That is good." I smile down at her. She has grown taller over the past few years, but not much, and I've always been tall. When I'm with her, or with the rest of the Oniwabanshu, I find myself smiling more and more often these days; but then, I have a lot to smile about. The Aoiya has become so successful that we decided to open another location on the other side of Kyoto, and I have not needed to draw my kodachi in years. Misao has maintained a correspondance with Kaoru, who has apparently given birth to her and Himura's first child recently. Misao wants to visit them, but we simply haven't had time lately. Perhaps after we the new Aoiya has become stable, we will be able to leave for a vacation, but not any time in the foreseeable future.

"Come. Let's go sign the papers." Misao releases me from her bone-crushing hug and takes my arm as we walk through Kyoto. The city has been quite peaceful lately, and the signs of improved quality of life are clearly visible to those who look. The city, and the nation, are becoming more prosperous. Though it somewhat pains me to do so, I find that I have to admit that the Isshin Shishi were correct. Life is not perfect, of course. There is still crime, corruption, and prejudice, but under the shogunate restrictions, people such as Misao and myself could never have owned a restaurant, nor could Misao have so easily been a part-owner of the new establishment.

Okina was somewhat bemused by my insistance that it be a join ownership. I believe he still sees Misao as the silly girl she used to be, and cannot reconcile that image to Misao the sober soon-to-be-business-owner. Although by her own insistance, I will be doing most of what she calls the "ownerish" work: the paperwork, accounts, procurement, and anything else necessary for running the restaurant. She claimed the kitchen and front her herself, although she informed me that she expects me to assist her when called upon, which I expect I will be frequently in the coming weeks. Once we're profitible enough, which I expect we will be in good time, she intends to hire help and relegate me to the offices, because "my gloomy face might ruin the customers' appetites."

We pause for a moment outside the building. The next time we see it from the outside, it will be ours, and we are both aware that this will be a large change in our lives. Then the door opens, and the current owner beckons us inside, waving an intimidating stack of papers. I glance at the sun; the next time we're outside, it may be too dark to see the building. I hold back a sigh. The future Misao has consigned me to will involve many such stacks of paperwork, I suspect.

Meiji 15, late winter

My office window gives me an excellent view of the falling snow, but the cold doesn't penetrate. The oven downstairs keeps the entire building warm, and we've paid for good windows that are draft free. Improved windows are one of the many things Japan has imported from the West in the last few years. Food styles and standards of dress have affected our business the most. Learning to cook western food, and offering it on the menu before any of our competitors, provided us with a significant business edge. Adopting western uniforms early made us stand out, and even if it drew criticism from more conservative elements, it also drew more business. Our branch has become quite successful, and we've acquired a few new employees, a headache even worse than wearing a suit at first.

It's hard to believe looking back, that I was once the youngest leader of the greatest ninja organization in Japan, and one of the most talented swordsmen. I still keep in practice with my kodachi, but it's become more of a ritual and a form of exercise to stay in shape. I know my fighting skills have dulled, and I worry occasionally what will happen if I need them, but I remind myself that I am a simple manager now, and try not to worry about it. It is the job of the police to keep the peace, the covert actions of private citizens would be detrimental now to the well-being of the nation. Still, I can't resist dabbling now and again, and Misao and I have kept the non-militiant aspects of the Oniwabanshuu running, perhaps even more effectively than they used to be when the group also was involved in combat.

Time heals all wounds, I've heard. It's rubbish, of course. The wounds are still there: the scar on my chest from the fight with Kenshin, which will surely upset Misao; the scar on Kenshin's face; the wounds I inflicted on Okina; the scars acquired by Misao and the others in defense of the Aoiya. They will never fully heal, but they have faded somewhat with time.

"Aoshi!" Misao bursts into my office; she never merely enters. "A letter from Kaoru! We're invited to a viewing on Mount Ueno in the spring. Can we go? Please?" She has grown older, and she has gotten more mature, but she's still the same excitable girl she used to be, sometimes.

"A reunion? It sounds interesting. It will be good to see them again."