Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Alchemy of Gold and Silver ❯ Reflected ( Chapter 6 )

Chapter 6: Reflected

 

If you would convince a man that he does wrong, do right. But do not care to convince him. Men will believe what they see. Let them see.

-Henry David Thoreau

 

***

Aoshi examined the stack of official documents- mostly stolen- that lay in a meticulously-ordered pile on the table before him. Reports on troop movements, manpower losses, and captured territories, all arranged by organization and chronology.

 

But what was it all saying? That was the real problem. His eyes wandered over the top paper again- the only one not in its proper place. If this document were to be believed, then the Oniwabanshu may soon get what they had been working for all this time.

 

Aoshi wasn't one for optimism- he believed it tended to cloud one's vision of reality. All the same, the news that certain powerful, formerly neutral politicians were planning on choosing a side at last was heartening for several reasons. First of all, many of them were men that his subordinates had worked with at one time or another. In other words, while they may be selecting a side, they were actually quite neutral ideologically, and would therefore choose as a unit to avoid further strife. The amount of support that one of the opposing armies was about to receive would be enough to change the game, perhaps even decisively.

 

It's not the ideal solution, but I suppose someone has to win. The question now became which side to choose. The dark-haired man's eyes narrowed as he pondered the possibilities. It wasn't unlikely that he would be asked his opinion at some point, due to his neutral status and the sheer amount of information that his organization was able to obtain. Rather than making his decision clearer, though, knowing as much as he did just made it harder. Neither of the sides had what could be described as the moral high ground, and that was what politicians always sought to claim. They both had their dirty secrets, not the least of which was the employment of masters of torture and hitokiri, assassins that would never appear in their public images. The rumors were worse even than that, but the paperwork only proved so much before speculation was required.

 

Practically, he would probably choose to align with the rebels, simply because, for the most part, they had popular support. Such was usually the case when the war was between the realities of the established and the promise of the novel. For a while at least, a Meiji-run government would enjoy the people's favor.

 

Of course, none of it's really new at all… Aoshi carefully set the paper atop the stack and leaned back slightly, eyes hooded as he attempted to relax himself into the meditative state he had been retreating to with increasing frequency of late. Such techniques were among the most useful for martial artists, as they allowed for self-evaluation and restfulness that such warriors were not likely to find amidst the strife of the battlefield or the situation room. Unfortunately, that very same peace also made it dangerous, and he knew that he should not be so heavily reliant on anything, let alone something like peace and quiet, so fleeting and hard to come by. Why then, was he content to drift in his own thoughts, and leave the outside world so far behind him?

 

“Aoshi-sama!” Misao's excited shout and the rapid knocking that followed wrenched him thoroughly from his musings.

 

Straightening and filing the errant paper back into its place, he replied calmly. “Enter.”

 

The door quite nearly flew open. “Aoshi-sama! Sano and Kaoru-chan are back!” Her grey-green eyes fairly sparkled with enthusiasm. Frankly, Aoshi wasn't sure it warranted that much glee, even from Misao. Perhaps she believed that this meant the girl Kaoru had passed some kind of test. Then again… perhaps she has. The knowledge did little to ease his doubts about the young woman.

 

“Aoshi-sama?” Apparently he had been too long in thought, because Misao was watching him with something approaching concern, brows furrowed, a slight downward tilt to her mouth.

 

“I will hear their report,” he replied, choosing to answer a different question than the one Misao was implying. He watched as she nodded and left without another word. The intervening silence seemed long and unusually oppressive. Perhaps this was simply due to the contrast between itself and the energy and uncontained vibrancy that Misao seemed to bring wherever she went. Hn… what an odd thought. His mind really was wandering in too many strange directions, it appeared.

 

The door slid open again, and the kunoichi veritably bounced back in, followed by a more sedate Sano and Kaoru. If he would have normally dismissed Misao at this point, he refrained, and so the three of them sat before him in a line.

 

“Sano,” he said, indicating that the younger man was to begin.

 

The spiky-haired youth was chewing on what appeared to be a straw of some sort, and he spent a few more moments doing this before he clasped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Accustomed to such pauses, Aoshi made no comment.

 

“The mission was successful,” he said slowly, cracking one eyelid. “But there were some complications.”

 

“Complications?” Aoshi prompted.

 

Sano's hands dropped from behind his head, and he used one to scratch his jaw line. “The doc was targeted, all right, and by an Isshin Shishi strike squad at that. Frankly, we're lucky we're not all dead.”

 

He paused to allow the news to sink in, and Aoshi, though he would not show it, was quite taken aback. He had guessed that a person like Doctor Takani would be a target, certainly, but not an important one. Certainly not one you sent an elite force after. What were the Shishi thinking?

 

“Tell me everything that happened, in order. Leave nothing out.”

 

***

 

Kaoru sat silently as Sano recounted the story of their mission up until he began helping the doctor treat patients on the day of the attack. He kept shooting stray glances in her direction when he spoke, though she made no effort to break into his telling.

 

“The rest, I think, the missy'll have to tell ya.” Kaoru shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't exactly sure she was okay with that, since she had no idea whether she had taken the right actions at all. Still, Aoshi and Misao were looking at her, the former neutrally, and the latter expectantly.

 

“Well,” she began, inwardly cursing herself when her voice shook slightly, “after Sano went to help Doctor Takani, I followed Megumi outside. I lost track of her for a second-” here she flushed slightly, embarrassed, “but then I spotted her by the fire. She didn't look happy, and she threw something into it. After she left, I fished it out. It was part of a letter, but I could only make out some of the sender's name…” she trailed off; the next bit was going to be uncomfortable, and she was desperately hoping Aoshi wouldn't ask.

 

“And…?” the expectation was clear in his voice, his stare level and unwavering.

 

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath before opening them. “Takeda,” she said softly. “The name was Takeda.”

 

When she had told Sano about the incident afterward, he had explained what happened to four of the Oniwaban's most experienced members by Takeda's hand, back before the organization had really taken root, when the two of them were still kids and Aoshi himself scarcely more than that. Back then, it had been just a small group of shinobi, who hired themselves out as spies and warriors. After being betrayed by a client, Aoshi returned to Kyoto with a new purpose: to end the war. On what grounds he had made that decision, Sano hadn't said, but Kaoru had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with bringing down the people who were using war as an excuse to hide misdeeds and make money. People like Takeda.

 

As expected, Aoshi stiffened, and the tension in the room became palpable. Even Misao was clearly uncomfortable. Deciding swiftly to brush over the matter by hiding behind ignorance, Kaoru plowed on. “I didn't know who that was, and I knew I couldn't ask Megumi-san, so I decided to ask Sano about it the next time I saw him. Megumi-san was asleep, so I decided to take my own rest at that time. I woke up to the Isshin Shishi attacking. I engaged their hitokiri, and we were fighting when Takeda's men showed up, too.” Unsure how much she should reveal unprompted, she fell silent.

 

For a long time, nobody said anything. Then, Sano broke in, “You should know, Aoshi. They sent the Battosai.”

 

Aoshi's head snapped up in the most sudden motion Kaoru had ever seen from him. “The Battosai?” he repeated carefully, eyes narrowing dangerously.

 

Sano nodded. “The missy here took him on, and managed to hold him off for a bit. When Takeda showed up, though, he took down a couple of the Shishi guys. I convinced the rest of them that we'd better go find their boss.”

 

The wheels were clearly turning rapidly in Aoshi's head. “So you worked with the Isshin Shishi to eliminate Takeda?” there was a faint note of incredulity to his tone, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Not that Kaoru blamed him. She was still having some difficulty believing it herself.

 

“The one called Battosai and I fought through Takeda's men to reach him,” Kaoru replied softly. “He is now the prisoner of the Isshin Shishi. We brought back one of his men.”

 

Something strange passed across Aoshi's eyes, but it was gone before Kaoru could properly identify it. “I see. Did you discover why Takeda's men had attacked you in the first place?”

 

Kaoru's face hardened. “Yes. Takani's daughter Megumi-san was being forced to make a highly-addictive strain of opium for him.” The swordswoman had to fight to keep her voice as impassive as possible; the fact that the crime lord had been threatening Megumi's father as a way of extorting opium from her struck a nerve.

 

She watched for any reaction, but Aoshi appeared unsurprised. Turning to Sano, he asked, “Did you bring her back with you?”

 

Sano shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah. She's pretty messed up about it, but she's agreed to give you all the information personally. Apparently, she had refused to keep making it, and the letter was a threat from Takeda himself. How he found us so fast, I dunno. Maybe the delivery was late.” He scratched the back of his head.

 

Kaoru watched as Aoshi's eyes met hers again. “Is there any more information you can give us on the Battosai?” His tone was a little off, as though he were asking her not for the information, but something else.

 

The swordswoman cast about for something to say. She knew his name, but for some reason, she was reluctant to share it. Why, she couldn't say, but somehow it felt like she'd be betraying his trust to do it. Don't be stupid, Kaoru! He doesn't trust you, he wants to kill you! But, he took the sakabatou…

 

At length, she answered. “He's stronger than I am,” she said slowly. “And yet he let me live.”

 

Aoshi's eyes narrowed. Clearly, this was not the answer he'd been looking for, whatever that was. “The Battosai never fails to take out a target,” he replied. “If you made yourself one by challenging him, you'd do well to watch your back.”

She nodded firmly, and along with Misao and Sano, stood and bowed to the okashira, who had waved a hand to indicate they should leave. “Dismissed. Misao, see that Takani Megumi is taken care of. I will meet with her tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, Aoshi-sama!” With a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes in light of the troubling news, Misao followed the other two out.

 

***

 

The Battosai sat against the wall in a private room at the inn which served as his residence. Not that he was often here. In fact, were the circumstances ordinary, he would have been out on another job already. He had seen the black paper with his name on it, and the name of his target- Kiyosato Akira- sitting on Katsura's pile of documents. Katsura had told him that he was passing the assignment to someone else.

 

Well, that was the polite way of putting it- and Katsura was nothing if not maddeningly polite. He had been so during his entire interrogation of the Battosai. This, however, was no obstacle to imparting that the hitokiri had failed, and that failure was not tolerable. The swordsman closed his eyes, and the images forced their way into his consciousness.

 

When the Battosai had become angry enough to ask the reason Takani needed to die anyway, there had been some sort of strange look in his commander's eyes that he could not place.

 

“'Why' is a question you have not asked me in a long time, Himura,” he had said slowly, absently shuffling papers about.

 

What the intention behind that statement had been, the Battosai could not begin to guess, and so he had remained silent, at which Katsura sighed. “Fine. If you truly want to know, the orders came from higher up than I. The doctor has been known to publicly defy the will of the Emperor by continuing to heal those who would oppose his return to power. Does this suffice?” At the Battosai's continued silence, he shook his head, and his tone grew fatigued, as though he were a man much older.

 

“I certainly hope it doesn't. But then, I suppose that is not our judgment to make,” his voice lost its weariness as quickly as it had appeared. “The contract has been removed for now. Nevertheless, Himura, I do believe that your next mission will not go as this one did. Am I understood?”

 

The Battosai's eyes narrowed at the latent threat. “Of course.”

 

“Oh, and about that samurai you fought. Should you see him again, kill him. Anyone who can survive a fight with you, whatever the reason, is a problem.” At this, Katsura looked back down at his work, a clear sign of dismissal.

 

And so the Battosai found himself in his quarters, not particularly relishing the idea of going back today and receiving a replacement assignment. The hitokiri's hand brushed the peculiar sword the girl had given him at his side, and he contemplated his lie. Surely, it would have been easy to tell Katsura that his mysterious opponent was a woman, and working with a known member of the Oniwabanshu, a small and rather irritating group that maintained a militant neutrality in defiance of everything everyone else fought for. But he hadn't. Laying the expertly-forged blade over his crossed legs, one hand absently traced the gold-colored chasings on the hilt and saya. On impulse, he drew it about six inches, and turned it, observing the reflected light on the bladed side. He caught sight of part of his own visage: golden eyes, the few locks of flaming hair that strayed into his face. Dissatisfied, he angled the sword so that his image disappeared and the sunlight from outside instead hit it, turning the entire blade a bright silver.

 

Studying the resulting metallic sheen, he was reminded of the girl. Unbidden, her likeness swam into clarity within his mind's eye. She was holding the sword that was the twin of this one in hands that she forced to be steady, and yet there was no fear in the moon-bright silver eyes, only resolve.

 

He still wondered at it. She had to have known she couldn't win, and still never once did she falter or surrender or beg for mercy, unlike so many of his victims.

 

Something about that bothered him. He couldn't put his finger on why, but somehow his lack of an answer was no surprise. So many things about the events of that particular evening made no sense. Why hadn't he killed her? Why hadn't he killed Takeda? That one, at least, had deserved it without question. No, in the end, he had deliberately disobeyed orders. He should have finished what he started, but he had not. Whenever the Battosai searched his mind for answers, all he found was that selfsame image of the first person since his teacher who hadn't looked at him as though he were some untamable beast. Even Katsura had that look sometimes, though he hid it well. Could I…?

 

A cloud passed over the sun, and the reflected light dimmed, leaving him with the image of his own face once more, golden eyes dulled somewhat in the absence of a fight. No.

 

Standing, he resheathed the sakabatou with a decisive click. Such a thing was impossible. If it had not always been, then it certainly was now. He wouldn't go out of his way to find the swordswoman, but if he did chance upon her, she would die, and so would her annoyingly confusing existence in his head.

 

He leaned the sakabatou against the wall, fully intending to leave it there. An assassin did not need a weapon that could not kill. Still… it was the finest sword he'd ever encountered, much better than the one he carried now. And it was not without potential for lethality. Certainly a second weapon could not hurt. If an enemy managed to take it, well, no major loss.

 

With this rationalization, he slid the blade behind his katana in his obi. Turning on his heel, he headed for the door. Katsura may have given away his assignment, but there was always another one, and right now, the last thing the Battosai wanted was free time to think.

 

***

 

Megumi Takani regarded her surroundings with some trepidation. The inn was a finely-crafted one, and it buzzed with the homey atmosphere of the restaurant downstairs. She heard the voices of waitresses, cooks, and customers faintly through the floor of her second-story quarters. Kaoru hadn't hesitated to give up her own room for Megumi's sake and take up residence with Misao for the duration of the young doctor's stay.

 

Megumi had given all the information she could think of to Shinomori the day before, but apparently they were keeping her around for just a little longer, until they could confirm that none of Takeda's old associates would be after her. Her father, refusing to be held anywhere, had simply marched out when he was done talking, and since he was judged to be in relatively little danger, they had let him pass.

 

Frankly, his daughter was unsure he'd come back for her. The look he'd given her at her tearful confession to Shinomori was full of hurt, eventually replaced by a withering coldness that turned her heart to ice. Not that she begrudged him that; indeed, she'd been dreading much worse. She had been trying to protect him, only to betray him and everything that he had taught her about medicine. I failed, she thought bitterly.

 

She glanced down at the object in her right hand with a barely-audible sigh. Megumi knew her father still loved her, and would take her back if she asked. Just as surely as she knew that she would never ask. To burden him with her dishonor like that… she still had enough pride left to make that impossible.

 

So, what was there for her now? In the space of a week, she had nearly lost everything, only to lose it again, in a different way.

 

As she sat in silent contemplation, slowly sinking deeper and deeper into herself, the voices around her became less distinct, until they faded away entirely. It really is a beautiful inn… she thought slowly. Such a waste. Somewhere, a desperate part of her was screaming that this was no time to be worried about décor, but she listlessly ignored it. Tightening her grip, she raised the dagger to head height, clutching it with both trembling hands, as the hum of voices slowly became audible again. She thought she recognized one, but pushed the thought away as inconsequential. Father… I'm so sorry.

 

***

 

Sano was worried. He would have expected the fox-woman to have eaten something by now, or at least have appeared from her room. He had been asking everyone he encountered, but when none of them had been able to provide him with a satisfactory answer, he had simply extended his ki-sense.

 

Sano prided himself on being better than most at this particular trick; his range was even better than Aoshi's. Immediately sensing Megumi in Kaoru's room upstairs, his eyes widened as he read her intent. Killing, but nobody was in that room except- shit!

 

Leaping up the stairs three at a time, he slid open the door with a loud bang, and lunged forward just quickly enough to catch the naked knife blade in one hand. Ignoring the sharp stinging where it cut into his hand, he wrenched the thing out of the lady doctor's numb hands.

 

“Just what the Hell do you think you're doing!?” he yelled furiously.

 

The woman looked down at her now-empty hands with a strange look on her face. “Why did you..?

 

Sano was livid. “Why did I what?! Stop you? What's wrong with you? Don't you realize how much trouble we've all been through to keep you alive? And now you want to go and make everything for nothing, is that it?” The youth slammed the knife into the wooden windowsill, burying it at least four inches in.

 

This, at least, seemed to produce some reaction in Megumi, and the ghost of a frown crossed her face. “What do you know?” she asked quietly. “I'm disgraced. I betrayed my father, and I can never be a doctor again.”

 

Sano had to restrain himself from punching the wall. “What you did,” he ground out between gritted teeth, “is save that old man's life. And what's this about not being able to be a doctor again?”

 

Unable to meet his eyes, she instead fixed her own on where the knife protruded vertically from the finely-crafted wood. “I've sullied my hands. I see that now. I'm not worthy of being a doctor. I'm not even worthy of being alive.” Her voice was completely devoid of all feeling, face blank.

 

His injured hand reflexively tightened its grip on the knife hilt, heedless of the blood that this forced out of his wound and down the blade, soaking into the wood beneath. Megumi, however, seemed transfixed by it. For some reason, her body began trembling violently, though her eyes never left the crimson rivulets.

 

“And you think dying is gonna make up for that?” Sano growled. “I hate to break it to ya, but that ain't the answer, lady. If you really wanna do something about all those people you hurt making that stuff, you gotta do it the hard way.” His eyes narrowed, barley more than slits devoid of all their usual warmth and merriment.

 

Apparently caught off-guard by his statement, she looked at him for the first time in their entire exchange, almost flinching when she saw his expression. “You… you think there's…”

 

He held her eyes, and was inwardly relieved that she was actually listening to him at last. “There's always another way,” he said, certainty infusing his every syllable. “When people have given you a chance at living, you better respect it.” His mind flashed briefly to Captain Sagara, and then Gensai, Kaoru and the Oniwaban. All of them had helped him at times when he didn't think there was any redeeming himself. Now, it was his turn to repay their kindness.

 

“How?” Megumi seemed startled at her own question, and he allowed one of his trademark grins to creep onto his face, eyes regaining their natural quality: humor, confidence, and just a trace of maturity.

 

“Why don't you start by working as a doctor for the Oniwaban?” he suggested casually, then shrugged. “If you'd prefer, there's a doctor I know in Tokyo who'd take you on…” he trailed off, and looked at her sidelong, expectantly.

 

The fox-woman was regarding her hands again. Just as Sano was about to say something else, she looked up at him. “I think… I think I'd like to stay.”

 

His smile only got wider. “Great. Now all we gotta do is clear it with the boss.” He pulled the knife from the sill, frowning absently as he regarded his bloodied hand. He looked for all the world as though he were only just noticing his injury.

 

Her face took on a distinctly more troubled frown than the one he was wearing, doctor's instincts reasserting themselves now that the numbness had receded. “You're not going anywhere until I get a look at that hand. Honestly, how irresponsible of you. Couldn't you have just grabbed the hilt or something?”

 

Sano stared at her in disbelief. “Me?! I'm the irresponsible one?!” he choked out, “I'm the one who… the least you could do is thank me!” he huffed, crossing his arms before remembering that it might not be a good idea to touch anything with his sliced fingers.

 

She didn't miss the slight wince that this produced. “Thank you? Why should I be thanking you for anything? You burst in on me without even knocking, and then you destroyed my windowsill!”

 

He was about to retort, but when he caught sight of the sly grin on her face, he decided he'd let it slide. After all, that was thanks enough, right?

 

“Sanosuke…” Megumi hesitated as she cleaned his wound.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Could you…?” her voice was quiet, and there was an uncharacteristic note of pleading in it.

 

Sano shook his head. “This'll stay between you and me, don't worry, kitsune.”

 

***

 

“Come on, Kaoru! Don't make me drag you!” Misao called impatiently over her shoulder, a smile on her face despite the frustration she was trying to affect.

 

Kaoru shook her head. The two had just gotten done with practice that morning, and already Misao was bounding off to the next thing. Where did she get all that energy? Not that the reason the swordswoman was dragging her own feet had anything to do with fatigue.

 

“Well, hurry up! Don't tell me you aren't excited! This store's gonna have something, I know it!” the ninja exclaimed, grabbing one of her friend's hands. “How long has it been since someone took you shopping, anyway?”

 

“Not long enough,” Kaoru muttered, grimacing. When she'd moved into Misao's room, the girl had wasted no time in going through her clothes, disappointed when all she found were a few gi and hakama, all but one of those borrowed from someone. The only outwardly visible feminine article Kaoru had to her name was the indigo ribbon from her father.

 

At this revelation, Misao had immediately planned today's excursion, promising that she would have at least one nice kimono ordered by the end of the day. Three stores later, and Kaoru was doing her best to put off buying anything, though she wasn't sure how much longer she could manage it. “Say Misao?”

 

“Yeah?” the other girl asked absently, running her hands over variously-colored bolts of silk, settling on a oddly familiar shade of pink. “How about this one?”

 

Kaoru shook her head, remembering white plum blossoms with distaste. “Who's paying for this?” she asked suspiciously.

 

Moving to the blues, Misao looked up. “Oh, I just told Aoshi-sama to take it out of your paycheck.” Her eyes lingered on a bright kingfisher color that Kaoru personally thought would suit her friend better than herself.

 

Kaoru's eyes widened. “You what?” she choked out.

 

Misao grinned as if nothing were awry. “He agreed that you need to have something to wear so you can fit in. Like me,” she replied, gesturing to her own pale yellow garment.

 

“How can you stand wearing one of those? You can hardly move in them,” Kaoru whined. Unfortunately, what Misao was saying made sense, and they both knew it. Only since she had left Hiko's home had she realized how strange women in her profession really were. The Oniwaban were definitely the exception, and even they were only about twenty-five percent female, including noncombatants. Neither of the regular armies allowed women save as nurses. Even Megumi would have been demoted.

 

“Aww, it's really not that bad,” Misao reassured her. “Well, actually, it kind of is exactly what you say. But, sometimes it's fun, too, you know?” Misao's hand flew to the back of her head, something that Kaoru recognized as a gesture indicating something between abashment and nervousness.

 

She didn't get it. “Fun?” How can something so annoying as that be fun?

 

“Yeah, you know, when you're dressed like this, people underestimate you. It's useful. And the look on people's faces when you say something `improper'… it's hilarious.” As if to prove her point, the kunoichi giggled.

 

Kaoru cocked a suspicious eyebrow. The first part sounded somewhat believable at least, but the rest of it wasn't holding much water, and she thought she knew why. “You sure it has nothing to do with Aoshi-sama?” she asked, the name a perfect imitation of the voice Misao used when talking to the okashira.

 

The kunoichi squeaked and slapped a hand over her friend's mouth. “Shh! There are people around here who know him!” she whispered frantically, eyes darting to all corners of the largely-unoccupied shop.

 

Kaoru couldn't help but stifle a laugh from behind the hand. Misao released her with a glare, and Kaoru humored her by dropping her voice as well. “I wasn't aware it was supposed to be a secret,” she teased. At the mortified look on the other girl's face, she continued. “Relax, I don't think he knows. He doesn't strike me as the type to notice that kind of stuff.”

 

Misao's face fell somewhat. “Or me,” she said softly, and Kaoru was alarmed by how unlike her normal self she seemed. She had assumed the green-eyed girl had merely taken a shine to her leader, but it appeared to her now that it ran a little deeper than that.

 

“Don't tell me you're giving up already?” she chastised. Come on, Misao…

 

The girl met the challenge in her voice just as she had predicted. “Of course I'm not! Makimichi Misao never gives up!”

 

The swordswoman smiled. “Now that's what I like to hear.”

 

Misao returned the gesture with a wide grin of her own, but the expression soon took on a sly cast. “So, Kaoru, now that you know my secret, care to share?”

 

Kaoru rolled her eyes inwardly. Misao was even less subtle than she was, and that was saying something. Feigning ignorance, she put on a confused expression. “What?”

 

But her energetic companion wasn't having any of it. “You know what I mean. Any special men in your life, hm?”

 

Kaoru snorted. “Hardly anything like that.” She really didn't want to have this particular discussion. Why, she wasn't exactly sure.

 

“Oh? Not harboring any feelings for Sano?” the other girl probed.

 

The only response to this question was a gale of laughter. “What?” she asked, slightly put-out.

 

“Sorry,” Kaoru answered, trying to straighten her face. “It's just that the thought never even crossed my mind. I've known Sano since I was twelve, and he's just always been like my brother, you know?” She shook her head empathetically, still somewhat amused.

 

Misao nodded understandingly. “C'mon. There has to be someone you're interested in…”

 

A pair of molten-gold eyes flashed across Kaoru's mind, and she fought the image back with no small amount of confusion. What the-? She shook her head, putting it down to the fact that she had nearly died. Certainly, that was enough to explain the occasional appearance of her would-be killer in her mind, right? Surely, the timing's not important.

 

“Nope, I'm afraid not. And don't look at me like that. I haven't been here too long yet.” Now she was certain she'd rather be talking about anything else.

 

Misao shrugged, and turned back to her examination of fabrics. “Whatever you say.” Frowning down at the bolts of silk, she continued. “Hmm… we'll have to order you something, but you really do need to wear something else now, too… what about that one?” She pointed, and Kaoru followed her gaze to a gold kimono embroidered liberally with shining white flowers.

 

Glad of the change in topic, Kaoru nevertheless grimaced. “No way. I'll look like a geisha, for heaven's sake. Pick something simpler.”

 

Misao sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “You're no fun, you know that? Fine, what would you pick?”

 

Kaoru picked up the challenge in her friend's voice, but there was no way she was taking the bait on this one. “How about… that?” she asked, gesturing to a medium-blue garment with a small wave pattern along the bottom.

 

“I swear… no guts,” Misao sighed. “but it's your money, I guess. Now pick a color for another one, and it better not be blue!”

 

Kaoru rolled her eyes and ran them over the bolts critically. The truth was, she had no eye for this sort of thing at all. “Umm…red, I guess.”

 

“All righty, then!” Misao replied chipperly, snatching up a bolt of scarlet silk before Kaoru could say anything about it being too bright and taking it over to the counter. Talking swiftly to the seamstress, she handed over some money, and Kaoru could do little but watch in trepidation. Hopefully, the spy knew what she was doing.

 

“All done!” she called, making her way back over to Kaoru. “Now, let's go get you changed, and then we'll go see Kyoto, okay?”

 

***

 

On the way back to the Aoiya to do just that, Kaoru followed Misao through the crowds lining the main footpath in the city. She certainly remembered what it was like to be in a crowded location, but this wasn't quite the same. There was the usual hustle-and-bustle as people went about their business, but underneath it all ran a current of anxiety that Kaoru found troubling.

 

She pursed her lips as her fingers found the hilt of her sakabatou, touching it as if to reassure herself that it was still there. They had taken a risk simply by going out with Kaoru dressed like she was, but Misao had reassured her that at a distance, she would probably pass for a boy anyway. Still not sure that's a good thing… Kaoru didn't have a great deal of vanity, and had certainly never thought of herself as too pretty, but even she drew the line somewhere.

Still, there was an advantage to it. Slipping through the crowd unnoticed was easier than expected. No one seemed to take notice of the two as they ghosted through the masses of people, at least until Misao smacked into someone in an alleyway.

 

“Hey! Watch where you're going, kid!” she shouted, but the boy was already hurrying away.

 

Kaoru had seen the interaction from a few feet away, and was well aware of what had actually happened. “I don't think so,” she murmured, sticking out a foot. As predicted, the dark-haired boy tripped and crashed to the ground.

 

“What the hell was that for, busu?!” he shouted, dark eyes flashing.

 

She had fully intended to handle the situation calmly, but decided that that just about did it. How many people were going to insinuate that she was ugly in one day? It seemed she had reached her limit. Kaoru's eyebrow started twitching, and Misao, recognizing the danger sign, stepped in between them just before the swordswoman exploded.

 

“Who do you think you're calling ugly, kid?!” She maintained her control well enough to refrain from brushing past Misao, and she thanked years spent in little company save Hiko and Sano, both of whom seemed to like barbing her, for teaching her more patience than she'd ever let on she had.

 

“Now, now, Kaoru,” Misao began, holding her hands up in front of her. “I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it…”

 

“He stole your purse, Misao,” Kaoru said flatly, glaring over the ninja's shoulder at the boy, who couldn't have been more than thirteen.

 

Misao's eyes flew open. “What?! Why you little! I oughta…” swinging a fist at the kid's face, she adjusted when he flinched and snatched the satchel out of his hand. “Gotcha!” she sang, sticking her tongue out.

 

Opening his eyes when no blow connected, the boy stared down at his now-empty hands with some degree of trepidation. Just as he opened his mouth, Kaoru cut in. “Hey, Misao, you think the Aoiya might feed this kid dinner?” All trace of anger had dissipated from her tone. There was just something about how he'd flinched; as though he'd been expecting a blow, but was resigned to it rather than afraid. Yes, something about this situation definitely did not sit well with her.

 

Misao's expression changed almost instantly as she considered it, going from slightly puzzled to understanding. “Yeah, I'm sure we could do that. What do ya say, kid? We'll just pretend this whole thing never happened, okay?”

 

The boy, who had lowered his gaze to the ground, stood with shaking fists clenched at his sides, unresponsive.

 

“Hey, you all right?” Misao inquired, concern etched on her face.

 

The boy's head snapped up, and he glared at the two of them with undisguised fury. “I'm not a kid, so stop calling me that! I'm Myojin Yahiko, descendent of a noble samurai family, and my ancestors would never forgive me for accepting charity from the likes of you!”

 

Misao seemed dumbstruck, but Kaoru was just livid. “And what,” she intoned, trying to keep her voice neutral, “do you think your samurai ancestors would think of stealing? Is that more honorable than just asking? Refusing to accept help when you need it isn't strength, it's the worst kind of weakness, and you shame your name to think otherwise!” Despite her best efforts, she ended at full volume even as the boy's face grew redder at her.

 

“What would you know, busu?!” he huffed angrily. Before she could respond, he had taken off, and her mouth snapped shut, eyes darkening slightly with worry.

 

“I swear, kids these days,” Misao sighed, pocketing her purse once more.

 

Kaoru would have laughed had the situation been different. As it was, she smiled slightly. “You sound like such an old lady when you say that, Misao.”

 

The girl's eyes twinkled mischievously. “Do I now? Just how old do you think I am, Kaoru?” There followed a silence, long enough that Misao grew uncomfortable, as Kaoru regarded her with raised eyebrow, questioning both the relevance and intent of the question.

 

“Well, it's a secret, so I'm not going to tell you!” the ninja winked, but when she noticed that Kaoru had started to stare off in the direction the boy had run, she sobered somewhat. “Does it bother you that much?” she asked quietly.

 

The swordswoman shook her head. “Something just seems… off about it.” She couldn't shake the image of Yahiko flinching away from her mind.

 

Misao shrugged carelessly. “He's probably a war orphan. Sometimes, they make a living by stealing. Probably works for some small-time gangster. It's not great, but you can't save them all.”

 

Kaoru met her eyes then, and Misao almost recoiled. It seemed she had been a little too cavalier in her choice of rationalization. Her friend's face was hard, a flinty quality to the look in her eyes. “Maybe not… but I can help one, can't I?” she asked quietly.

 

Misao decided she liked the look. It was a little scary, but once she realized that Kaoru was not angry at her, she felt a grin spreading over her face in response. “You wanna follow him, see what's up?”

 

“Yeah… I think I do.”

 

“Kaoru-chan, I like your style.”

 

***********

 

~Kiku's Corner~

 

Hello again, everyone! Before I get to the review responses this time, I have a question for you all. Yes, the readers are being consulted about the direction of the story. Gasp. Don't you feel special? You should, since you guys all rock.

 

Anyway, I was wondering if I should take some time to develop a few secondary plot threads. The main plot obviously deals with Kenshin, Kaoru, and the war. Secondary plots would be based off of little details like Aoshi's need to escape reality by meditating, his grief, and Misao's thoughts on the situation. Another one would probably be Megumi finding validation in the new chance she's been given. I could also deal with Sano trying to get stronger, since I imagine he has some issues with the fact that Kaoru (and the Takanis) could have been killed and he would have been unable to stop it and so on. I may eventually be able to give Yahiko a side-story as well. In short, I'd be adding more drama, a little angst, and the occasional funny (or the best approximation of funny that I can manage, anyway) moment or two. I enjoy secondary character development, but it would involve majorly lengthening the story, and naturally taking some emphasis off K&K, at least in terms of relative chapter-space. Even though I'm using the others now, it is still mainly to advance the central plot, you know? Let me know what you guys think, should you have an opinion.