Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I forgot to put this in the earlier chapters, but obviously I don't own Rouroni Kenshin


Midori absolutely hated the crowds in Tokyo.

As she pushed her way down the packed sidewalk, Midori found herself wondering, for probably the hundredth time, why in the name of all the gods she had come here in the first place. She always avoided cities; not only were they too damned crowded, too smelly, and much too noisy for her tastes, but the katana that she always wore strapped over her back was like a beacon for terrified stares.

So what if the pathetic government had outlawed katana's? So what if she was breaking that stupid Meji law? Midori was a proud samurai, a follower of the sword, and icicles would form in the pits of hell before anyone took her treasured blade from her. She shot a cold glare at a group of men on the opposite walk way, across the road. They were all staring at her with looks ranging from petrified to furious plastered on their faces.

As she locked her emerald green eyes with the one closest to the edge of the walkway, the man's face reddened with obvious anger. She smirked at him, cocking her head as she came to a standstill directly across from him. Raising one hand, Midori beckoned languidly to him.

Almost instantly the angry man had shot across the street, coming close enough to intrude on her personal space. The look on his face was clearly meant to be intimidating, but Midori's smirk widened in amusement.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, woman?" the man snarled at her. Midori raised her left eyebrow at him.

"It should be plain, even to a rudely staring imbecile, that I am walking," she replied calmly. "Is there something you wished to say, or is it your daily habit to feast your eyes on whomever you wish?"

"What gives you the right to carry a katana around in broad daylight, woman?" he spat; his friends had now crossed the street to join him, forming a rough circle around her. People who had been passing on the walkway were now stopping to stare in interest.

"It is my blade," Midori stated, a hint of warning in her quiet voice as she locked eyes with the fool. "I will carry it whenever I see fit. What business is it of yours?"

"It's against the law to carry a katana, you stupid woman!" one of the others snapped.

"I care nothing for the laws of a weak government. Step aside. Now."

Midori was aware of the shifting of the men around her. They were moving toward her, rather than away. She made no move to defend herself as the man in front of her reached out and grabbed her black silk gi, jerking her forward until their faces were inches apart. She could smell many things wafting off him: anger, frustration, a slight hint of fear, and the ever-present stench of lust. She gave him a bored look as he growled at her, letting him know that she was not in the least bit afraid of him, or worried about the fact that she was outnumbered five to one.

"How dare you insult our government!" he roared in her face as the gathering crowd looked on, murmuring amongst themselves. "They have brought us stability and peace! You will shut your woman's mouth, fool! I take it upon myself to escort you to the police, for violation of the law."

Midori grinned wickedly at him. "And just how do you plan on doing that, baka?"

The man actually had the balls to slap her in the face. Hard. The murmuring crowd fell silent as Midori's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. Her green eyes locked with the black ones of a small child hiding herself behind her mothers' skirts. The child flinched slightly, bringing a small hand up to cover her own cheek, her innocent face swamped with pity for Midori. Midori grinned at her and winked.

Faster than most would believe possible, Midori had grasped the wrist of the hand being used to restrain her, given a sharp tug, and dislocated her assailant's shoulder. His fingers immediately went limp as he howled in pain like an oversized baby. Midori stepped out of his loosened grasp, catching his hand as it fell from her shirt. With a simple flick of the wrist, she had the fool sprawled flat on his back on the ground, the breath completely knocked out of him. Hardly exerting any effort at all, Midori jammed the socket back to its rightful position; the crowd let out a collective gasp of shock as the man squealed breathlessly.

"You should learn to read when your opponent outclasses you, if you wish to live very much longer," she said lightly, releasing the man's wrist and letting the twice-injured arm flop to the ground. Looking up, she locked eyes with one of the man's friends, who was staring at her open-mouthed in near-panic. Smirking at him for only a moment, Midori smoothed out her now rumpled gi, straightened the strap that secured the katana, and turned to the little girl.

She smiled at her, and the girl, still partially hidden behind her frightened-looking mother, smiled back after the smallest of hesitations. Midori walked over, crouched down so that she was on eye-level with the child, and asked, "What is your name, neesan?"

"Sakura," the little girl whispered, clutching tighter to her mother's skirt.

Midori smiled again, thinking of the beauty of a sakura tree in bloom, of the sweet scent that would pervade the air and fill the countryside with new life. Sakura. A good name.

Reaching up the left sleeve of her gi, Midori withdrew the heavy money-pouch that she always wore tied to her arm. Opening the pouch, Midori extracted two gold coins, enough money to pay a family's taxes for several years to come. Placing the pouch back in her sleeve, Midori gently pried one of the girl's chubby little hands free of her mother's skirt and placed the gold in her palm, curling her fingers securely around it.

"A thank-you for your kindness, little Sakura," Midori stated, watching as the child's eyes lit up in amazement. Standing, Midori's eyes met the astonished gaze of the girl's mother, and bowed her head politely before stepping over the prone figure of her would-be attacker and continuing on her way.


Midori settled down at her table in the little restaurant with a contented sigh.

"Hello, ma'am, welcome to the Akabeko. I'm Tae Sekihara, what can I get for you?" the young woman with an apron and head kerchief asked in a slightly odd, twangy voice. Slightly behind her, a pretty young girl no older than twelve lingered, apparently wanting to help if necessary, as she and the Sekihara woman wore almost identical outfits. Midori smiled politely at them, nudging her katana further out of sight underneath her table.

"Sake, please, and a small order of beef." The two nodded in unison before scurrying off. Midori took the moment alone to scan the restaurant. As it was noon, the building was fairly busy with the lunch rush, and to her satisfaction, no one was paying her the slightest bit of attention in her slightly gloomy corner. Pleased with that observation, Midori smiled once again as the young girl she had seen earlier returned with a bottle of sake and a cup.

"T-t-tae-san says that y-your b-b-beef will b-be ready s-s-shortly, M-miss," the girl stuttered in an extremely quiet voice, the slightest hint of a twang in it. Setting the bottle and the cup on the table, she stole a shy look at Midori before blushing slightly and disappearing the way she had come. Grinning at the girl's discomfort, Midori uncorked the bottle of sake and poured herself a glass, setting the bottle back down on the table before raising the cup to her lips and sipping deeply. The sake was of good quality, sweet and smooth as it slid down her throat. Loosing another sigh of contentment, Midori drained the cup and poured herself another, allowing herself to relax slightly for the first time since her run-in with that band of fools earlier.

Nothing like a bottle of alcohol to take one's mind off one's troubles, she thought wryly, rolling her neck from side to side until she heard it pop. Her muscles were tenser than usual, as they always were when she ventured into a city. Even after so many years, Midori found that she could not walk down a street in any city in Japan without constantly checking the roofs for danger. Every alleyway was carefully scanned from her peripheral vision, every passing body searched for hidden weapons. Ten years, and her habits still refused to die.

I suppose these habits did keep me alive when I would otherwise surely have died, she mused, checking with her foot for her sword. Taking another sip of her sake, Midori closed her eyes and heaved another sigh of contentment. Her relaxed state was abruptly interrupted, however, when the sound of shattering china rang out in the packed restaurant. Midori groaned inwardly; would trouble follow her every step today? Opening her eyes once again, she scanned the now silent restaurant until her eyes came to rest on the cowering figure of Sekihara-san, who was trying to back away from an irate customer without tripping over the shattered teapot beneath her feet, as a dark stain slowly spread across the floor. Glancing up at the red face of said customer, Midori's eyes narrowed into angry slits as she recognized that pompous fool from earlier, the one whose arm she had dislocated. The injured limb was now tucked into a make-shift sling across his chest. Midori felt anger begin to bubble in the pit of her stomach as his other arm shot out, grabbing Sekihara-san and yanking her back to him.

"What kinda respectable restaurant you runnin' here, lady?" he snarled in her face. "That tea was cold, and it tasted like sewage! You tryin' to poison me, lady? Is that it?"

"Sir, please!" Sekihara-san squeaked, her twang even more pronounced. "Please let me go!"

"Better do as she says, pal."

A tall man wearing a red headband, with possibly the funniest looking hairstyle Midori had ever seen, walked up to the red-faced man quite casually, hands in his pockets.

"Sagara-san!!" Sekihara-san exclaimed.

"You just butt out, buster! What're you going to do if I don't, huh?" the man spat.

"If you do not release the woman," Midori broke in, her temper flaring dangerously as she stood and made her way over to the threesome, "I will finish what I started on the streets and dislodge your other arm."

The instant Midori had begun speaking, the man had jerked his head around to lock his muddy little eyes with Midori's green ones. As she advanced slowly upon him, the color leeched from his face, leaving him as pale as a corpse. Coming to a stop mere inches from him, Midori slowly reached up and placed a hand on his out-stretched arm, the hand of which was still wrapped tightly around Sekihara-san's bicep. She squeezed once, and the man instantly released his captive, who stumbled back, tripping over the ruined teapot and falling into Sagara's waiting arms.

"I-I-I'm sorry!!" the man yelped, attempting to tug his arm free; Midori tightened her grip slightly, stopping him.

"This is the second time today that you have disrupted my peace," Midori said calmly, her emerald green eyes wandering to the man's injured arm before locking on his face again. "I have killed better men than you on slighter provocations. Perhaps I should remove your arm altogether; then you would not be able to manhandle innocent women like Sekihara-san."

"Hey, now," Sagara put in, steadying Sekihara-san and reaching out to put a large hand on Midori's shoulder. "I don't think Tae is going to thank you if you get blood all over her floor. Let the bastard go, who cares about him? With the look on your face the guy's probably going to drop dead ten years sooner anyway."

Midori knew the man with the laughable hair-do was right, and as the anger that had flared so unexpectedly moments earlier receded, she released her hold on her prisoner's arm and took a small step back. The man made to bolt, but Midori immediately grabbed the back of his gi, jerking him to a halt.

"You have not yet apologized to Sekihara-san," she reminded the oaf.

"W-w-what?" he gasped, his pale cheeks regaining some of their former color as he flushed.

"Apologize to Sekihara-san for the disruption you have caused," Midori ordered, a slight edge creeping into her voice. "Then pay her for the teapot you destroyed."

Sagara took one look at the man's face, after he had pulled out an empty wallet, and burst into laughter.


Several hours later, Midori followed Sanosuke Sagara down the quickly emptying cities streets, the light of a late afternoon sun casting shadows over them.

Midori still wasn't convinced that this was a good idea.

"Sir, perhaps it would be wiser if I simply stayed at an inn," she tried to say, self-consciously adjusting the strap of her sheath.

"Hey, I keep tellin' ya, just call me Sanosuke. And don't worry; Jou-chan'll put ya up for a while. I mean, come on, you are a swordsman - er, woman – so what better place to stay than a dojo? 'Sides, not many places would let ya through the door with that thing on your back." All this was said with a laidback tone that was so relaxed Midori found it difficult to understand how Sanosuke was not presently asleep on his feet.

After dealing with the lout at the Akabeko, Midori had returned to her table to enjoy her meal. To her slight surprise, Sanosuke had followed her, settling in at her table and chatting with her.

"So why's that idiot scared shitless of you?" Midori had forced herself not to grin; the guy had a hell of a way with words.

The two had chatted for hours. Midori was slightly surprised at herself. She rarely entered into conversations with others. She honestly could not remember the last time she had talked about such meaningless nonsense for so long and not been the least bit bored.

After a while, Sanosuke had asked her where she was staying while in town. When Midori had replied that she had not yet found an inn, Sanosuke had immediately started telling her about this dojo he stayed at sometimes. They had already touched on Midori's state of solitude, and she had reluctantly pulled her katana from where she had hidden it.

Sanosuke's eyes had hardened slightly, but he had said nothing.

Now Midori found herself slightly edgy as Sanosuke led her through the main gates of the dojo. Something was telling her that this was a very bad idea, that she should make her excuses and run for it. Why was she feeling this way?

"Hey Jou-chan!" Sanosuke called, stuffing his large hands into his pockets. "Anybody home?"

"Kaoru-dono has gone to town with Yahiko-chan, Sano, that she has. This one is cooking dinner; will you be staying?"

Midori froze. Cold sweat bloomed over her body, and she felt as if she could not breathe.

"Yeah, Kenshin, I'm staying. I brought a new friend of mine, too. She's new in town and needs a place to crash."

Kenshin. Kenshin. How many years since she had last heard that name?

"This one is happy to meet a new friend, that he is. This one is called –"

"Kenshin Himura," Midori interrupted, turning her head towards that voice. "Kenshin Himura, also called Hitokiri Battousai of the Ishin Shishi."

Emerald green eyes met wide lavender; lavender narrowed and morphed slowly to gold; gold regarded emerald with cold, calculating precision.

"Zetsumei Kurohyou. A ghost from my past."

Sanosuke Sagara looked from his best friend to the woman he'd just met in astonishment. "You two know each other?"

It would be great if anybody reading this story would review and give me some feedback. I need to know how bad this sucks. Thanks in advance.