Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Four Swords ❯ Chapter Nine ( Chapter 9 )

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Meh. Nobody missed me, did they? Oh well. Such is the life of an incompetent authoress…

 

Mild Shounen-Ai. There. You've been warned.

 

Chapter 9: A Legend Is Born

 

“Shit!” Sagara swore as he tore through the underbrush.

 

“Just keep running,” Aoshi said quietly, pausing to look back. “Get back to the house.”

 

“What?” Sagara demanded, turning to look at the young man.

 

“You heard me. Okita and I will finish this off. You need to get him back to the house and take care of those wounds.”

 

Sagara shifted the assassin's weight on his shoulder and nodded. “Okay. Do only what you have to, you hear?”

 

Aoshi smiled crookedly in the darkness. “Of course. Why?”

 

“Why?” Sagara asked, startled. “What do you mean?”

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“Because… I…” Sagara frowned, not knowing how to answer the question.

 

Aoshi smiled thinly. “It's okay. I understand. Okita and I should be back before sunrise. We're nearly finished here anyway.” With that, he turned and darted back towards Hanayama.

 

Sagara turned back and began running again. He had to get back to the house, where there was light. Then he could see the wound and try to bandage it, try to stop the bleeding.

 

The assassin lay limp over his shoulder, carried like a sack of rice. Sagara could find no other comfortable way to carry him. He'd taken the least damage the first time through at Hanayama, and had subsequently decided that he needed to make up for it tonight. Instead of staying out of the thick of the fighting, and picking off men like Sagara thought he would, the assassin had tried to protect the other three, still recovering, men.

 

Sagara thought he'd done that job a little too well—now the assassin was the only one injured. A man with two blades had cut across the assassin's abdomen, leaving twin cuts across the torso. It had looked painful, and Sagara thought this trip couldn't be helping any. At least the assassin was unconscious; that would reduce the pain somewhat.

 

---------------

 

Aoshi and Okita finished up quickly, running the final remnants of Nobori's army out. They left behind sufficient threats, such that they doubted any of them would come back soon. As soon as they were satisfied they'd completed their job, they darted back into the forest to follow Sagara.

 

“He's not much of a spy,” Aoshi noted, tracing his path.

 

“He's anxious to get the assassin back, I'm sure,” Okita murmured demurely, following the Oniwabanshu onmitsu.

 

“Hn.”

 

They continued to travel, moving at a faster pace than Sagara and his load. They caught up with him just a mile or so from the house.

 

“Here,” Aoshi offered, lifting the limp body from Sagara's shoulder. Sagara said nothing, but flashed a grateful smile at the young man.

 

They carried on in silence for the remaining mile. Okita stayed slightly behind, ever watchful of their vulnerable backs. Sagara stayed a little ahead, forging the path ahead. Aoshi kept to the middle, between the two older men.

 

They arrived back at the house shortly. “Quick, lie him down,” Sagara ordered after throwing the door open. Okita quickly dragged a futon over in front of the fire as Aoshi laid the assassin down. Aoshi stepped outside to get water, while Okita started to build up the fire.

 

“I need light,” Sagara murmured, not an order for Okita, just as a general statement.

 

He found a knife hidden on the assassin's left arm and used it to cut away the slashed shirt, starting from the bottom hem of the shirt. Okita's back was turned as he added fuel to the fire, so he didn't notice right away when Sagara stopped cutting. Aoshi came back in and froze in the doorway, water sloshing in the pail he was carrying.

 

“Anou…?” Okita asked, turning around. “Is something wrong?”

 

Aoshi whistled lowly. “Oh, shit,” Sagara swore angrily under his breath.

 

Okita knelt behind Sagara and peered over his shoulder. “Oh… my,” he murmured, eyes widening.

 

The assassin was female.

 

--------------

 

“Quit staring,” Sagara suddenly said, snapping out of his shock. “Aoshi, warm up the water. Okita, find me some clean bandages.”

 

The other two men set out to their tasks. Without being told, Aoshi dropped a piece of linen in the heating water, drew it out, and wrung it over the pot. He handed the warm towel to Sagara, who gingerly wiped at the wounds with it.

 

Okita brought back a roll of bandages—the same roll the assassin had used to bandage their wounds a few days ago—and soon the assassin's twin cuts were cleaned and bandaged.

 

Now came the interesting part.

 

“We need to remove the bloody clothes,” Sagara said simply. By that, not only did he mean the assassin's pants and undergarments, but also the strips of black cloth that bound her breasts.

 

In the end, Sagara ended up tending to the wounded assassin, and Okita saw that there was never anything other than concern in his eyes. None of them, if they had done it, would have violated her modesty and purity. They respected her, because they had seen her skill and ferocity. None of them would have harmed her.

 

-------------

 

Mieko woke feeling the dull throbbing around her stomach. She winced, remembering the two slices she'd taken from the man with the two blades. She realized with a little shock that she was back in her safe house, and that she was lying on a futon in front of the fire. Sagara leaned against the wall beside her, head down on his chest, one katana leaning against his shoulder between his legs. If she craned her neck, she could see Aoshi and Okita lying nearby on the other two futons.

 

She glanced down, and saw that she was in clean linens. Her bloody clothes had been removed, and someone had rebound her breasts and bandaged her wounds.

 

Her mind began to whirl. So. They knew she was female. Well, that saved her one problem. Now all she had to do was tell them as little as possible, so that they might still accept her and offer her their protection.

 

Stiffly, she sat up, propping herself up on two elbows. She tried to raise herself so that her arms were straight, but cried out at the pain in her abdomen. At the sound of her voice, three pairs of eyes shot open.

 

“Are you all right?” Sagara asked, starting forward to help her. She winced, hissed through her teeth, but said nothing.

 

“Lie back down,” Okita ordered in his pleasant voice. “You'll just make it worse by trying to move.” Grudgingly, Mieko lowered herself back down, and drew the futon back up to her chin.

 

Aoshi said nothing, but Mieko saw his dark eyes flicker with worry, and she blinked and gave a little half-smile to acknowledge that she saw his concern. His eyes widened a little, and he looked away.

 

“What do you want to know?” she asked quietly, staring at the ceiling, hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible.

 

“Whatever you want to tell,” Sagara said, fixing his dark brown eyes on her.

 

She sighed and remained silent. “Start with your name,” Okita said, prodding her shoulder gently and smiling.

 

“Mieko… Sakaki Mieko.” She gave them her common name, the name that more people knew, the name that protected her from her past.

 

“Where are you from?” Okita continued.

 

“Kyoto. At least, that's where I live now.”

 

“And why were you in Hanayama?”

 

She shrugged. “I heard about Lord Nobori. I didn't like what I heard. So I came to see for myself.”

 

“I take it you didn't like what you saw,” Sagara murmured.

 

“No.” The answer was simple, direct, and left no room for argument.

 

There was silence in the room. No one wanted to pry further into her background, though there were certainly many questions to answer. Finally, Okita broke it.

 

“So what do we do now?”

 

No one seemed to know what to do with the question. It hung in the air before Okita, waiting to be answered.

 

“Go back to the way things were?” Sagara mumbled.

 

“Just leave here and walk back to Kyoto and Edo as if nothing happened?” Aoshi supplied.

 

“I suppose…” Okita murmured dully.

 

“Why?” Mieko asked curiously, voice oddly harsh. “Why pretend that the past three days never happened?”

 

“Because it's for the best. Technically, we're enemies. We should be at each other's throats,” Aoshi cut in.

 

“So that's it?” Sagara asked suddenly, light coming into his eyes. “We're just going to walk away from this? Do you realize what we've done?”

 

“No, but I assume you're going to enlighten me,” Aoshi snapped sarcastically.

 

Okita seemed to understand Sagara, because he picked up the train of thought, ignoring the irate Oniwabanshu Okashira. “We've come together… put something above the side we're fighting for in the Revolution.”

 

“We put the safety of the village before our other loyalties,” Sagara agreed.

 

“And Sano too. So why pretend it didn't happen?” Mieko asked again, eyes sharp.

 

“Well… we could… not,” Okita finished, rather lamely.

 

“You said it yourself, Okita. There's still evil out there. And maybe…” Sagara continued.

 

“This house is always open,” Mieko said quietly.

 

“We were an excellent team. And if we learned how to fight together…” Okita trailed off. He and Sagara seemed to be the driving forces behind the brainchild, with Mieko supplying small tidbits of encouragement.

 

“Mieko, you said this house is always open?” Mieko nodded her assent, and Sagara continued. “The Sekihou is always stationed close to Kyoto, when they're not out on missions. The Shinsengumi are always in Kyoto. And you,” he said, turning quickly to Aoshi, “Can make it here without difficulty.”

 

“Why don't we work together?” Okita smiled happily at the simple statement, evidently pleased with himself and Sagara.

 

Mieko nodded. “I'm tired of working by myself,” she whispered. Only Okita heard her.

 

Aoshi stayed silent, looking at the ground. Okita and Sagara had already made peace with each other, and Mieko had no qualms with any of them, but Aoshi… Aoshi avoided company like the plague. He'd never really adjusted himself to being social, and probably never would. He'd always been a lone wolf, moving through the world on his own without a care for anyone but the Oniwabanshu. He'd be hard pressed to give his loyalty to the three who sat across from him now.

 

“Funny, isn't it?” Mieko spoke up softly. “Just like that… we forgot who we once were, forgot the person that the world thinks we are—and became someone else for the sake of Sano, and those villagers.” Her golden eyes were fixed on Aoshi.

 

“For the sake of all the oppressed,” Okita agreed, sitting beside her and smiling.

 

“For the sake of all the weak,” Sagara murmured, turning to look at Aoshi.

 

Aoshi was silent. Mieko's words were still playing through his mind… Someone else, for the sake of Sano.

 

“All right,” he muttered, standing stiffly. “I'll stay.”

 

-------------

 

Sagara took off down the road to Kyoto, Okita and Mieko trailing behind. In just the first two hours of the trip, the two had become bosom friends, laughing and giggling like young girls together.

 

Well, can't blame Mieko for that, Sagara thought wryly, turning to look at the young girl. She said she was only 15, the same age as Aoshi.

 

Okita had surprised them all by admitting he was 25. Sagara was shocked. They were the same age, yet… there was something about Okita that made him seem younger, more innocent, more child-like than Sagara had ever been.

 

Both Sagara and Okita were samurai; neither Aoshi nor Mieko would reveal their ancestry. Sagara had not admitted that he had left his samurai family at the beginning of the Revolution, and that only disgrace and shame could be expected if he ever took back his old name.

 

Aoshi had gone back to Edo on his own. Mieko had offered to go with him, saying she was already in enough trouble as it was (a statement Sagara had not understood), but he brushed off her offer and disappeared into the forest.

 

Now Okita and Mieko were speaking quietly, seriously, and Sagara wondered what could have brought the pair down from the sky. They'd been so exuberant just a few minutes ago…

 

------------

 

“Will you go with me?” Mieko asked again.

 

Okita nodded gravely. “Of course. I don't want you getting into trouble, not after you helped us all.”

 

Mieko flushed and waved the compliment aside. “Arigatou… I hate to use your name like this, but…”

 

“I understand. Few of the lords are pleasant to their servants.”

 

“And I'm already on his bad side,” Mieko muttered, more to herself than Okita.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” Mieko said quickly, flippantly. Okita's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. We all have our secrets, he thought, watching the girl's eyes become clouded and veiled.

 

“Why don't you come back to Shinsengumi headquarters with me?” Okita found himself saying, with a great deal of surprise.

 

“Anou…” she whispered, fidgeting nervously as she walked.

 

“I'm sure you'll like some of my friends,” Okita smiled pleasantly. “And I can introduce you to some people who might be able to help you… and it'll make our story more believable,” he added. He knew he was trying to get her to go with him.

 

“Well…” she murmured, glancing ahead at Sagara's back.

 

“Don't worry. We'll escort Sagara back to the Sekihou camp, check up on the little boy. Then I'll take you with me, and we'll go to Kawami's manor.”

 

Mieko dipped her head quickly in assent. “All right, then.”

 

-----------------

 

Aoshi finally pushed aside the shoji and collapsed onto his futon, completely exhausted. The last few days had tried him physically and emotionally, and he had no wish to repeat the experience.

 

He rolled onto his back and wondered, for the thousandth time, why he'd agreed to help the other three. What was it, that something just beyond his mind's grasp, that drove him to make such a deal?

 

Ah, well. No matter now. He'd promised, and a promise was a promise. He never went back on his word, and he was always loyal to those whom he'd pledged his sword.

 

There was a soft rapping on the shoji, and Aoshi mentally groaned. What was he going to tell the Oniwabanshu?

 

“Aoshi-sama?” Hannya asked quietly. “Are you all right?”

“Hai, Hannya-san, just resting, that's all.”

 

“Ah. Well, we can talk later.” Aoshi heard Hannya's soft footsteps padding down the hallway, and he knew the master spy was gone.

 

Rather than trying to think of a good story to tell Hannya and the others about the assassin, he began to work through what he could offer his new comrades. The Oniwabanshu was mainly a defensive force now, a group of highly trained warriors to guard Edo Castle. That could hardly be of use to the others, Aoshi's skill with the kodachi aside.

 

But there was also the intelligence network… Hannya was the resident spy of Edo Castle, but the Oniwabanshu intelligence network spanned Kyoto as well. Kyoto was a treasure trove of information on both the Ishin Shishi and Shogunate loyalists. Every man capable of committing evil acts could probably be traced through Kyoto.

 

Aoshi made a mental note to get in touch with Okina the next day, and closed his eyes to rest. In a week, he'd be back in the safe house in the forest.

 

---------------------

 

Mieko ran clumsily in her kimono and geta to catch up to Sagara, who was walking quickly through the streets. She understood his fast pace—Kyoto was not a place for a patriot to get caught. Even with Okita at his side, Sagara could still expect a sword through his gut if he was caught by Shinsengumi.

 

She came alongside him, nearly tripping on her kimono, and his hand reached out to steady her. She smiled gratefully at him, and he flashed her a smile in return. It was then that she noticed how handsome he was.

 

He released her arm and turned to Okita, who was talking to him from his other side. Mieko flushed and looked away, highly conscious now of her sex and appearance.

 

The trio made it through Kyoto without incident, and Sagara led them to the dirt track that would take them to the Sekihou camp. Though the Shinsengumi, Bakufu, and Sekihou seemed to have come to some kind of truce (after all, the Sekihou was still stationed near Kyoto), it was nevertheless an implied statement of trust that Sagara took Okita there with him.

 

They traveled on for some time, mostly in silence. At last, in mid-afternoon, they rounded the last bend and camp upon the sprawling camp.

 

“Sagara-san!” a little boy came running up the path to meet them. Sagara smiled broadly and knelt down to hug the boy.

 

“Sano!” he cried happily.

 

Sano smiled impishly over his captain's shoulder. “The assassin promised me you'd be all right,” Sano said.

 

“Did he now?” Sagara asked, eyes twinkling, flickering briefly towards Mieko. “If you ever see him again, make sure you thank him. He saved my life.”

 

“I knew he would!” Sano cried proudly.

 

A smaller, slimmer, less robust and aggressive dark-haired boy slipped up the path to join Sano. He stood quietly, scuffing his feet in the dirt.

 

“Katsu,” Sagara said, smiling, holding out his other arm.

 

Katsu and Sagara did not seem nearly as close as Sano and Sagara, but the bond was still there. Sagara ruffled their hair affectionately and assured them that he was all right. After shooing the two back into camp and to their chores, he turned to the amused Mieko and Okita.

 

“They're adorable,” Mieko murmured, grinning. Okita could only smile his agreement.

 

Sagara laughed shyly, and nodded. “Yes, they are. But keeping track of them—and keeping them out of trouble—is not. Sano's a little troublemaker by nature, and he always seems to drag Katsu into it.”

 

“Well,” Okita said, sighing. “You have things to take care of here, and Mieko and I have business in Kyoto. A week from today,” he reminded, turning back down the path.

 

Mieko hurried after him, calling, “Sayonara!” over her shoulder to Sagara, who stood just beyond the Sekihou camp to wave goodbye.

 

--------------

 

Mieko and Okita came upon the Shinsengumi dojo and paused beyond the gate. Tentatively, Okita pushed it open and slipped inside.

 

“What's wrong?” Mieko whispered, coming up directly behind Okita.

 

“I'm trying to see if Hijikata is here,” he whispered back.

 

“Hijikata Toshizou? Why?”

 

“Because if he is…” Okita trailed off, leaving Mieko to fill in the blanks.

 

“Oh,” she answered simply, and fell quiet.

 

Okita couldn't hear Hijikata's angry voice from the courtyard, so he led Mieko by her kimono sleeve to the room he shared with Saitou. He gently pushed the paper screen out of the way and stepped in side, gesturing her to follow.

 

Of course, he didn't expect Saitou to be in the room changing.

 

“Ah, Okita-san, Hijikata—“ Saitou was cut off by the sight of Mieko standing in the doorway, eyes modestly cast to the side. Saitou was only naked from the waist up, but she would still grant him as much privacy as possible.

 

“Ah… Saitou-san, this is Mieko-san. She helped me while I was in Hanayama, and now I've got to explain things to her employer. I'll be taking her back tonight.” Okita found the story coming out sounding all wrong as he struggled to explain the situation to Saitou. Wonderful. Now she sounds like a prostitute, and I sound like I'm taking her back to some brothel or other. And to anyone that didn't know, it would sound like I slept with her in Hanayama. He really had to work on clarity.

 

Saitou's eyebrows rose in suspicion, but he said nothing to Mieko. Instead, he turned back to Okita and finished his sentence.

 

“Hijikata wants to see you.”

 

Okita paled a little, and a little squeak escaped him. “He's here?”

 

Saitou nodded. “He's a little put-off with you, let's put it that way.”

 

Okita's head dropped sadly, and he sighed loudly. “All right, I'd better go see him. Take care of Mieko while I'm gone?” he asked. He noticed Mieko's widened eyes and turned to look at her, willing her to accept this arrangement without question. At last, her eyes closed and she looked away. Okita slipped out of the room and left Mieko standing just inside the door, and Saitou kneeling on his futon.

 

---------------

 

They stood quietly in uncomfortable silence for several moments before Saitou snuck a glance at the young woman. She wasn't a great beauty, he noted, but she wasn't exactly ugly either. Rather, there was a strange, exotic kind of beauty about her…

 

She definitely wasn't a common prostitute. Granted, that's what Okita in his bumbling way had made her sound like, but he could sense that she was still pure. Maybe not a virgin, but she hadn't lowered herself to that yet. He suspected that she was a servant for some Kyoto lord; now that the Shinsengumi had moved in permanently, Shogunate supporters felt safer in the streets that had once been ruled by Ishin Shishi.

 

It was then that he noticed her large, golden eyes, the color so much like his own. They were huge, glimmering pools of gold, and he lost himself gazing into them. Shyly, she looked away, and he found himself studying her finely carved profile.

 

“Do you need anything?” he asked, a little tentatively. She shook her head quickly, stifling a yawn.

 

“You're welcome to sleep on Okita's futon,” he offered, and her head snapped up. Those gorgeous amber eyes clouded, and a flush crept up her cheeks.

 

“Oh… um…” he stammered. “Don't worry, I won't do anything.”

 

He could still sense her suspicion, as she gently pulled aside Okita's futon and lay beneath it. She turned herself towards him so she faced him—it must have given her all the security she needed, because she was soon asleep.

 

Saitou sat down on his futon, facing Mieko, settling down to wait for Okita. He knew the meeting between he and Hijikata was private, so Okita shouldn't be back for several hours. He meant to ask Okita about this young girl that he was now so keenly interested in.

 

-----------------

 

Mieko woke two hours later, as dusk was falling on Kyoto. Saitou, she noticed, was napping on his futon beside her. Okita, it seemed, had not yet returned.

 

She sat and stretched timidly, trying not to aggravate the wounds on her stomach. With a little yawn she sat up and looked around. She was startled to find Saitou's narrow amber eyes fixed on her; she hadn't realized he was awake.

 

“Okita hasn't gotten back yet. Hijikata must have been angrier than I thought,” Saitou murmured. Mieko saw the amused grin at the corners of his mouth, and wondered how he could take this so lightly. There was something she didn't know…

 

He stood, and shrugged a blue gi over his shoulders. He went into the hallway, motioning for Mieko to follow him.

 

“I imagine you're hungry… Hopefully the food will be edible tonight.”

 

“What do you mean?” she asked softly, following him down the halls.

 

Saitou grimaced. “Tonight's Harada's turn to make dinner, and he's a terrible cook.”

 

“You don't have a regular cook?”

 

Saitou laughed dryly. “No. We have regular nuisances, regular cockroach infestations, regular tofu delivery, regular training sessions—a regular everything else but a cook.”

 

“Maybe… Well, perhaps I could…”

 

Saitou turned to look at her, gold eyes flashing in the dim light. “Could you?”

 

“Not all the time… I can't leave where I'm working now.” She would never tell him why she couldn't leave Kawami, though.

 

He took her word for it and nodded. “Well, perhaps you could relieve Harada tonight.”

 

She murmured her assent as they came upon the kitchen.

 

“Ah, Saitou! Just in time! You like soba, ne?” Saitou nodded grimly. “I'll regret saying that,” he whispered to Mieko, who was standing beside him.

 

“Good, good! I think soba's all we're going to have…”

 

“Ah, gomennasai,” Mieko said sweetly, kneeling beside Harada. She quickly gathered the daikon, kamaboko, and spinach strewn over the small table and began chopping them deftly. Harada whistled and backed away.

 

“Saitou-san?” Mieko asked softly, not looking up from her task.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Would you fill up the pot with water, so I can make soba?”

 

Harada followed Saitou outside, helping him fill it with well water. “So, where'd you pick her up?”

 

Saitou snorted. “I thought you, of all people, Harada, would know me better than that.”

 

“She's a pretty one,” Harada continued. “Not a dazzler, but she's pretty enough. Was she good?”

 

Harada knew he'd gone too far when Saitou's eyes snapped up to meet his.

 

“I told you, Sanosuke—“ Harada had really done it, for Saitou to be using his first name, “—that nothing happened.”

 

Harada shut his mouth and said nothing more. He believed Saitou this time.

 

By the time they got back inside, Mieko had finished preparing the ingredients and was ready to cook. Okita and Hijikata had arrived as well, and Okita was chatting animatedly with Mieko. Hijikata leaned silently against the wall, watching the pair.

 

Dinner was more than any of them had expected (and Harada was pleased that he'd escaped his cooking-duty unscathed). Hijikata, Okita, Saitou, Harada, and Mieko sat around the small lacquered table in Hijikata's room slurping soba.

 

“Doumou arigatou, Mieko-dono,” Hijikata murmured, setting down his bowl. Saitou noticed the honorary address and saw the girl become flustered, finally nodding and smiling at Hijikata in acknowledgement.

 

“Gochisousama,” Saitou and Harada said after they were finished.

 

“Will you come back?” Okita asked, eyes lighting up, that impish grin on his lips.

 

Mieko laughed, and smiled. “When I can.”

 

“Make sure you come when Harada is supposed to cook,” Okita instructed. “He can't cook anything decent.”

 

Harada laughed, a full-throated hearty laugh. “I'd be quite happy if you did. Save me the trouble.”

 

“No,” Mieko said quickly, the same mischief in her eyes as in Okita's. “If I take over your cooking duties, you can wash the dishes,” she instructed.

 

Saitou and Hijikata laughed as Harada groaned but obligingly gathered the dishes from the table. He disappeared into the hallway and began singing a drinking song as he headed back to the kitchen.

 

The remaining four sat in silence for a few moments, reveling in the moment that felt so pleasant and so… normal. In this time of chaos, none of them had believed that they could find something so seemingly commonplace so wonderful.

 

At last, Okita stood and beckoned to Mieko. “We should be going.”

 

She nodded and stood, bowing to Saitou and Hijikata.

 

“Where are you going?” Hijikata asked sternly.

 

Okita turned to Mieko to supply the answer. “Lord Kawami's manor,” she whispered.

 

“Ah…” Hijikata murmured, apparently thinking. “Saitou, accompany Mieko-dono and Okita.” It wasn't a request, Saitou noticed; it was an order.

 

“Hai,” Saitou said, standing and joining the other two.

 

--------------

 

They walked through the dark streets of Kyoto, ears alert and swords ready. Though they weren't wearing their Shinsengumi uniforms, they still kept an eye out for patriots in the streets.

They arrived soon, and Mieko led them to the servant's entrance.

 

“Mieko!” Nakari yelled when she saw the girl. “Where have you been? I've been trying to convince Lord Kawami not to strangle you when you finally returned… Who are they?” she demanded, flushed with anger.

 

“Gomennasai,” Mieko murmured, brushing past Nakari. “I did not intend to be delayed, Nakari-san.”

 

“It is my fault,” Okita said quickly. “There were some things we needed help with…”

 

Saitou picked up for the faltering Okita. “Unfortunately, Mieko-san was caught up in official Shinsengumi business, and we needed to keep her for a few days. I trust that her absence will be forgiven in this light.”

 

Nakari sighed but held her tongue. “You'd best speak to the Lord about this.” Saitou and Okita moved forward, leaving Mieko to follow. “And you,” Nakari hissed, grabbing Mieko's wrist. “You'd better keep an eye out. Kawami has it out for you now.”

 

Mieko's eyes widened, and she looked curiously at the other woman. “I don't know why you do it, because it's foolish and it can only get you hurt, but you keep yourself out of Kawami's hands. I…” Nakari took a deep breath. “I respect that, Mieko-san. Please be careful.”

 

With that, Nakari gave Mieko a gentle push down the hallway after Okita and Saitou and turned away. Mieko smiled at the woman's retreating back, and scurried to catch up to the two Shinsengumi men.

 

----------------

 

And thus it was, that on a cool night in the spring, in the dark woods beyond Kyoto, that a legend was born. Four warriors raised their swords to protect their country.

 

Their leader was the warrior of courage. A man who faced his life as he lived it, a man who left nothing behind and held no regrets. A man with a dark past that not even he delved into, shrouded at once in shame and glory. A samurai who fought with honor and compassion, and who faced his fate with a strength that only comes from within.

 

The second sword was the warrior of loyalty. A man who at first could not conceive of pledging himself to the other three, but who soon found with them all he lacked in the world. A man who was known to few, but who would die for those who did. Another one with a dark past, and an even darker present. A man of the shadows, who wrapped the others in his comforting cloak of darkness.

 

The third was the warrior of strength. A man who was the strongest of his kind, whose strength came from even beyond his sword. A man with nothing to hide behind his sweet, innocent smile. A man who knew love and friends, a man who would give everything for those around him. But a man with a dark secret, buried in his chest, a secret that he fought to cover with all his might.

 

And the last sword was the warrior of love. A woman of the shadows, she took on two personalities. By day she was a demure and acquiescing servant; by night, she was the protector of the young, weak, and innocent. Though she had been denied love in her youth, she found it easy to give it to those who would accept her for the woman she was.

 

Yuuki. Chuusei. Chikara. Ai.

 

Those who saw the Four Swords said that their characters flashed in the moonlight just as their swords did—sparks in the darkness, reminders of the light that they tried to bring to a time of darkness.

 

And thus a legend was born…