A/n: So, I've gotten some reviews that have indicated a general confusion over some of the historical aspects of this setting, here. Although I'm not going overboard on the historical accuracy, I am drawing from history to some extent, so I thought maybe I should take this time to give a quick primer. Probably should have done this earlier, but I is dumb sometimes.

The Tokugawa - this story is set in literally the first year of the Tokugawa regime. The era preceeding the Tokugawa shogunate was known as the Warring States Period, and it was a shitty time to be alive. Over a hundred years of constant civil war; neither law nor order, nor any power save what you could wrest from others. It was a chaotic, dangerous, bloody time. And the Tokugawa put an end to it. Japan was both peaceful and prosperous under their rule. Yes, they were a military dictatorship and ferociously oppressive by modern standards, but they were yards better than what had come before. They're not actually the bad guys, here. Not necessarily the good guys, either, but hey, that's history for ya.

Oh, and here's a cute little joke I made in the first chapter. Remember the representative from the Mori clan? Well, the Mori actually existed, and they did get most of their lands stripped from them because their lord was kinda of a dumbass. They never, ever forgave the Tokugawa for what they'd lost; by the time the Tokugawa were through with them, all they really had left was a little place named Choshuu...

Iingirisu no anjin - As naraku-doll, Mama Kat, sirenmergirl, Crystale no otaku, and Fenris Jin noted, that is indeed a reference to William Adams. Who you should wiki, right now, because his life story is kind of amazing. Ladies/gentlemen, your no-prize should be arriving on April 31st. :D

Jesuits - This was pretty much the major foreign policy issue of the time period that I set this story in. We're on the run-up to the expulsion of all foreigners from Japan, so it's kind of an issue, and it's certainly one that Kenshin would be expected to engage with at some point. The tl;dr is this: Japan needs to trade with China. Japan can only trade with China via the Portuguese, because politics. In order to trade with the Portuguese, Japan has to tolerate the presence of Christian missionaries, specifically Jesuits. This wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that the Jesuits keep doing things that can be interpreted as trying to meddle in Japanese politics. And, to be fair, they probably were trying to meddle, since the Jesuit conversion strategy was to get all the leaders to convert and then it would trickle down to the masses from there. So. Jesuits. They were A Problem. They will probably be showing up again

That being said, on with the show!


They left Hito Castle about midmorning, on a day that was ferociously hot for so early in the year. The road was baked hard as a rock, and their passage sent up clouds of dust that choked the palanquin-bearers and was probably fairly miserable for the Lady Kaoru, who was forbidden to ride by her sex and station. Kenshin kept the horses as far back in the procession as was feasible to try and cut down on the worst of it, except for his own grey mare. He rode a little bit behind her palanquin, inside the guard perimeter. Just in case.

The change in regime had left quite a few samurai masterless and without income, and desperate men were the most dangerous kind. And although peasants had been forbidden to carry weapons for the past ten years, many who had been trained before the ban kept their skills sharp in secret. The country was well on its way to true unity, but the villages were still being unsettled by the disruptions among the nobility. There were enough dissidents and ronin moving openly through the countryside that a little extra caution was warranted.

Especially since the lady didn't travel alone; her sisters were with her. And while it was unacceptable to fail in his duty to her, it was beyond unacceptable to allow children under his protection to come to harm.

The girls had been overjoyed to hear that they were going to live with their elder sister. Their aunt and uncle, less so; Kenshin had had to tread very carefully there, barely managing to get away with nothing more than a promise to seriously consider taking Sir Miyauchi's son on as a page, and to give an answer in the matter soon. There had been an implication that he was to forget his wife's words on the matter and focus on the political advantages of strengthening his ties with the former ruling family of his province. After all, it had been strongly hinted, while no dutiful samurai would dare contravene the authority of the shōgun and, by extension, the Imperial Son of Heaven, not all samurai were as honorable as they should be.

"In other words," he muttered to himself, "give us what we want, or we'll make trouble."

This was politics, then. No wonder his master had told him to stay out of it.

One of the guards cleared his throat.

"My lord?"

"Yes?" Kenshin blinked down at him. The man swallowed.

"Forgive this lowly person," he said carefully, "but I did not quite hear my lord's command."

"Command – ? Oh. Ah. One was only thinking aloud – it's nothing."

"Of course, my lord," he said quickly. "Your pardon."

Kenshin stifled a sigh as the guard resumed his careful watch of the road. He was going to have to watch his tendency to talk to himself; it was a bad habit, anyway. He wasn't sure where he'd picked it up, but Sano had teased him about it fairly soon after they'd met, so it must have started shortly after…

He shook his head quickly, as if he could chase away the memories. But it was too late. It had become harder and harder not to remember as he and the Lady Kaoru settled into a delicate cease fire. It was hard not to feel that he'd danced this dance before, that he knew how this story would end: he'd been paralyzed more than once over the past few days by the sudden conviction that he needed to refuse her company, to order her to stay in Hito and far away from him.

But every time he'd tried to say it the words had frozen solid in his throat. He was working on convincing himself that it was because it would be easier to protect her if she was close by, but he'd always been a terrible liar.

"What it is," he started to mutter again, and then caught himself. What it is, is that you're a selfish fool who ought to be ashamed of himself; there are no second chances for men such as you –

Screams rang out from the rear of the procession. The palanquin halted immediately, the guards falling into a ready stance as Kenshin pulled his horse around. He shielded his eyes against the sun, saw the mob of ragged, armed men falling on the packhorses, and in the next heartbeat he was on the ground and the mare was galloping off as she'd been trained to. She wasn't a warhorse, after all.

She didn't need to be.

He drew his sword, measuring the distance between himself and the bandits and tensed to cover it. Then he froze, because the enemy was over there, but the Lady Kaoru and her sisters were over here, and those were men who answered to him falling and bleeding into the dust but his wife was here

"Go!" he shouted at the palanquin guards, acting on his decision before he realized he'd made it. "Help them!"

He pointed to the struggling second half of the procession. The guards glanced at each other, uncertain; Kenshin glared and roared in his master's voice.

"Now!"

They charged. The bearers stared at him, wide-eyed, and he snarled at them to run and find safety. They obeyed immediately, setting down the palanquin with a jarring thud. The door started to swing open and he then was next to it, forcing it closed.

"What's happening?" Lady Kaoru demanded, eyes fierce. There was a dagger in her hand. Her sisters huddled behind her, eyes wide and silent as only a samurai daughter could be when danger came.

"Stay here, honored wife," he told her as a second wave crested over the hill just beyond the palanquin, putting all his urgency into his voice. "Do not stray from this spot."

Kenshin had just enough time to notice her look at his face and blanch, and then the mob and the blood-tide took him.

Of all his many shames, this was perhaps one of the greatest: that he only felt guilty after the battle, when he returned to himself and saw the human wreckage lying around him. In the moment, in the heat of the fight, the world slowed and the men he cut down seemed to have no more substance or self than shadows. They were targets, nothing more, a collection of vulnerabilities, cut here and thrust there.

They couldn't touch him. After the first dozen fell in the space between two breaths, they didn't even try. They broke and ran and he let them run, because they weren't a threat any longer.

Except one. This bandit had separated from the mob before the charge and crept up on the opposite side of the palanquin, matchlock rifle in hand. His hand was on the door when Kenshin howled a challenge and charged; the bandit jolted back and raised his rifle. There was a crack of gunfire and a searing pain in his shoulder as Kenshin leapt over the palanquin and swept his sword across and down, the familiar resistance of bone against steel jarring briefly through his wrists and shocking his wound. Blood and viscera sprayed through the air to drench the front of his clothes and the bandit fell into the dust in two neat halves.

His shoulder ached. Kenshin grabbed at it, his blood seeping warmly through his fingers. The rest of the bandits were fleeing; some of the guards were pursuing, while the rest were dealing with the wounded. There was no immediate threat.

"My lady wife," he said, turning to the palanquin as he sheathed his sword. "You are unhurt?"

The rush of battle was fading rapidly, and the ache in his shoulder was spreading to consume the rest of him. His vision greyed out, briefly, and he shook his head. Mistake. It only made him dizzier. He really should let someone get the bullet out before it poisoned his blood…

Had to be sure.

"Are you alright?" he asked again, taking a step forward. The lady was partway out of the palanquin, still clutching the dagger, and her eyes were wide and shocky. Afraid. Again. His fault.

"…I'm fine," she whispered. He tried to smile reassuringly at her, forgetting that he was soaked in another man's blood.

"That's well, so it is…" he said, tongue lying thick and strangely unresponsive in his mouth. It was hard to think past the throbbing heat in his shoulder. "One does not wish… for harm…"

The world tilted under his feet and he stumbled, falling to one knee.

"…your pardon, honored wife," he managed to mumble, and then the world went away for a while.


Kaoru stared at her husband for a long heartbeat: stared at the blood staining his clothes and trickling in rivulets from the body lying on the packed earth behind him. It rolled like raindrops down the slight slope in the road, gathering dust at the head of each stream like floodwater debris.

"Big sister?"

She turned automatically to Ayame, her numb hand still clenched around her dagger. Her sisters were curled in the corner behind her, clutching tight to one another. Suzume had buried her face in Ayame's sleeve. Which was only to be expected: she was still just a child. Ayame was pale with fright but she hadn't looked away, and in some distant place Kaoru resolved to praise her sister for her courage as soon as her heart stopped roaring in her ears.

Nothing human could have moved like he had. Like the lightning, or a striking snake…

"Is it over?" Ayame asked, and Kaoru forced a reassuring smile.

"I think so, little sister," she said, sliding one foot gingerly out of the palanquin. The blood split to flow around her sandal. "Stay there a while longer while I go and see, alright?"

"'kay." There was the barest tremor of unshed tears in her voice, but she kept control.

Lord Himura had rolled onto his side when he collapsed. Some of the blood was running into his hair. Dyed by the blood of his victims, the rumours said, and she realized suddenly that they couldn't possibly be true. Blood was far too deep a red. The colors didn't match at all.

"…ru. Lady Kaoru. My lady."

Shirojo's voice faded in past the roaring and she turned to him, breath short and sharp in her lungs. Misao had kept her promise; she'd found Shirojo insinuated among her personal guard the day after the hot springs, the day after her husband had offered her freedom – as much freedom as could be offered, anyway – and she had turned him down. Why had she done that? There had been a reason…

"My lady," Shirojo said, as sharply as he dared. "Are you hurt?"

"…no," she whispered, and swallowed. "No," she said again, willing strength into her voice. Her spine straightened and she lifted her chin, looking past him to the slaughter that surrounded the palanquin. Men's bodies lay like broken dolls, shattered and piecemeal. None of them had stood a chance. Lord Himura had moved through them like wildfire in a drought, and blood had flown as water in his wake.

She glanced down to where he lay at her feet, slack-faced and unconscious. Such a small man, such a delicate frame. How could the demon she'd just seen be the same man who stumbled over his own words and flinched when he met her eyes, who looked at her as though she was something remote and precious and untouchable…?

Kaoru sucked down a deep breath, ignoring the foul, fruity smell of voided bowels and scattered brain matter.

"Lord Himura is injured," she said, more firmly. "One of the bandits had a rifle. He needs a doctor as soon as possible."

"Over here!" Shirojo called, gesturing to the other guards. "Hurry! Our lord is wounded!"

There was a mass migration towards the palanquin and its charnel mess. Not an organized one: she saw some men leaving the wounded half-tended.

"Stop!"

The men ignored her. She snorted, momentarily too frustrated to be stunned, and turned to Shirojo again.

"Shirojo, don't let them leave off caring for the wounded," she snapped. "The bandits might come back. We need to get to the village as soon as possible."

He nodded, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Oy!" he bellowed. "See to the wounded! Get everyone moving! We need to get to the village! You, you, and you," he shouted, pointing to the three warriors closest to the scene. "Help me get our lord in the palanquin! Lady Kaoru," he said, lowering his voice, "I'm afraid you and your sisters are going to have to walk…"

"It's no trouble," she said automatically, holding out her hand to her sisters. "Ayame, Suzume. Come on, now. We have to let Lord Himura have the palanquin."

Suzume shook her head and hugged her sister tighter. Ayame looked up at Kaoru, helpless, and there were tears glimmering in the corner of her eyes.

"Suzume," Kaoru said softly. "Remember that you are samurai."

"No," Suzume choked out. "Don't wanna. Don't wanna!"

Ayame was on the verge of breaking down herself. Her lower lip trembled. Kaoru knelt down, and blood soaked through her kimono at the knees.

"Come here." She opened her arms. "It's alright now."

Suzume threw herself into Kaoru's arms and buried her face in her sister's shoulder, sobbing. Ayame crept carefully out from the shadowed corner of the palanquin and grabbed Kaoru's hand tightly before she stepped carefully into the road, staring determinedly at the middle distance. Kaoru kept a firm grip on her sister's hand as she stood, cradling Suzume in her other arm. Hot tears seeped into her clothes where Suzume was quietly weeping.

"Hush now," she murmured, holding her littlest sister close. "Ssh. It's alright. You're samurai and the daughter of samurai, little sister, you don't need to be afraid."

"Big sister?" Ayame's hand started shaking in her own. Kaoru glanced down and saw that she was staring at Lord Himura as his men crowded around him, doing their best to stop the bleeding and checking for any other wounds. Not that they would find any.

"Is lord brother-in-law going to be okay?"

"Of course," Kaoru said smoothly, although she didn't know. If the doctor could get the bullet out, maybe; if not, then blood poisoning would set in, and odds were she'd be a widow before much longer. "He's very strong. Everything's going to be fine."

Ayame nodded and pressed herself against Kaoru's leg. Carefully, Kaoru led her sisters away from her husband's slaughterground, stepping gingerly through the strewn remains. Lord Himura's horse grazed idly at the side of the road, unconcerned.

"My lady." Shirojo bowed slightly to her. "Some of the bandits were captured. What should we do with them?"

"What should you…?" she repeated, then caught herself. "Who are they? Ronin?"

"Some." He exhaled, hard. "Some are peasants, my lady. I believe – I think some of the farmers are from Hito. My lady."

From Hito. The implications were cold enough to cut through the fog of fading adrenaline. Hito farmers had turned bandit, had attacked their appointed lord – the lord that the shōgun had granted the province to, disregarding generations of Kamiya rule. It was easily interpreted as a sign of rebellion; the very rebellion that Lord Himura was tasked with preventing by any means necessary.

Ayame protested as her hand was suddenly crushed.

They needed to be killed, here and now, before anyone could identify them. She knew that. She knew that. She knew the order she had to give, and nevermind that they were her people, whom she was honor-bound to guide and guard from harm…

If she sent them to her uncle he would only make examples of them. Lord Himura would most likely do the same, if she waited for him to recover and deferred to his wishes. It was the rational, political thing to do: they and their families would die long and unclean deaths, to frighten any further dissidents and prove that the rulers of the province accepted the Tokugawa yoke without reservation. To spare them now would only ensure that she was not personally responsible for their deaths, would only force others to bloody their hands…

Her father had told her: that is what means, to lead men. Our lives are not our own.

Kaoru closed her eyes and took a breath, drawing air and life into her core and letting it out slowly.

"The ronin are masterless, but they are still samurai," she said finally. "Give them the chance to die as samurai; have some of the men serve as seconds. As for the others… quickly. Without pain. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lady." Shirojo bowed, and she couldn't read his face. Then he went to carry out her orders.


The village wasn't far. Kaoru could have walked it easily, if not for the girls; so she'd commandeered one of the packhorses and loaded them on it, walking with one hand on the old mare's neck while Shirojo held the reins.

Tae was safe. Kaoru had been able to ascertain that much before the guards had started pressing everyone to move, now. Tae was safe and unharmed and had everything well under control: in fact, most of the servants were fine. It was mainly samurai who'd been injured.

No one had been able to take Lord Himura's horse in hand, nor had they needed to. She'd followed her master's palanquin without being instructed, occasionally butting her head against the bearers' backs and snorting, apparently because she liked the way it made them jump. The bearers were pale and shaking: the guards had nearly executed them all for deserting their posts before Kaoru had managed to convince them that Lord Himura had ordered them to hide.

She had trouble believing it herself, come to think of it. How could a man show such consideration for the least of his entourage and yet be… what he was? Do what he had done? A dozen men slaughtered in less time than it took to draw breath…

One guard had ridden ahead to warn the village that they were coming, banner snapping in the wind. The rest of the procession moved as quickly as they could, leaving the blood and bodies where they'd fallen. Every ronin in the attack had chosen an honorable suicide: most had died well, without flinching. As for the farmers…

Kaoru buried her fingers in the horse's mane.

It had been quick and painless, this way. And their families would be safe. A traitor's family shared the same fate as the traitor: because she'd ordered their deaths here, because she'd taken that blood on her hands, their families would be spared.

Men from the village met them halfway, with stretchers for the wounded and strong arms to bear them to the inn. Lord Himura was taken to the headman's house, where whomever they had to serve as a doctor was waiting to tend to him. The mare finally allowed herself to be caught and taken off to a stable, and Shirojo took the girls down from their horse before he led that one off, too.

Kaoru and her sisters were left standing in the foreyard of the headman's home. Suzume was an exhausted lump in her arms; Ayame was barely on her feet. Kaoru bowed her head to her youngest sister and caught a glimpse of the blood staining her kimono. She needed a bath: she needed to burn these clothes. She needed to scrub the stench of death out of her hair…

"My lady." Tae was at her side, taking Suzume gently from her arms. Her voice was calm and gentle and Kaoru let her take Suzume without thinking. "Go with O-tsuki to the bathhouse. I'll see to the little ones. You should cleanse yourself."

"I – yes." Kaoru shook her head a little, unable to cut through the feel of cotton wool. Tae would take care of it. Tae always took care of things. "Of course."

O-tsuki was one of the junior maids. She was pale and shaken and hiding it as best she could as she led Kaoru gently down the hall. Kaoru could feel something wrong, something nagging at the back of her mind. She couldn't quite make sense of it, though: everything was coming through distorted, like she was traveling underwater. Her legs and her head ached from the walk and unshed tears.

She hadn't been able to watch the men die. She'd owed it to them, to look into their eyes as they died because she'd ordered it, but there was blood on her clothes and her sandals and the bodies strewn like cordwood, entrails lying in the dust and she hadn't had the strength to do more than turn her head and walk away.

The bath was large and hot and Kaoru let herself be undressed, scrubbed and herded into it, at least until the searing heat began to unknot her muscles and soothe her. Then she bolted upright.

"The girls!"

"My lady – " O-tsuki tried to protest.

But Kaoru was already out of the bath and sliding into the clean yukata that the headman's wife had provided, fuming at Tae for babying her and at herself for letting Tae do it. She bolted from the bathhouse, ignoring O-tsuki's cries, and went to find her sisters.

She passed by a few people in the hall – guards, maids, a woman who was probably the headman's wife by the quality of her clothing – all of whom looked a little shocked to see Lord Himura's wife tearing through the halls. She snatched a maid by the sleeve and demanded to know where her sisters were. The woman pointed and Kaoru took off again, skidding to a halt outside the indicated room. She threw the shoji back, heart pounding.

Ayame and Suzume were tucked safely away in a futon, curled around each other like new-budded ferns. Tae knelt by their side, singing softly. Kaoru sagged with relief.

"Is there something wrong, my lady?" Tae asked. Kaoru glared.

"I'm not a child anymore, you know," she said shortly, stepping into the room and closing the screen behind her. "I don't need to be coddled."

Tae only smiled. Kaoru knelt next to her sisters and smoothed a hand over their heads. Strands of Suzume's hair were sticking to her cheeks, plastered there by her tears. Kaoru brushed them away.

"They're my responsibility, now," she said quietly. "I have to take care of them."

"You're barely more than a child yourself, my lady," Tae said, voice laced with gentle humor.

"I'm a married woman."

"…so you are." Tae sighed. "The doctor is still with Lord Himura."

"Is there any news?"

"It could go either way." She met Kaoru's eyes and held them, speaking very carefully. "It would be dreadful to be widowed so soon, wouldn't it?"

Innocent words, in case the walls had ears; but her meaning was clear enough. Strong noon light slanted in through the screens, sheathing the air with a subtle gold.

"It's out of our hands now," she said. "All we can do is pray."

"That's so." Tae reached out and clasped Kaoru's hands. Kaoru felt the sharp slide of folded paper against her skin, the faint weight of the medicine packet as it dropped into her sleeve. No medicine here, she knew, and understood what Tae was suggesting to her. "We'll all pray, my lady."

"I should go see him," she said numbly. The packet seemed like a leaden weight: a choice, hers to make. She'd never get another opportunity like this.

Suzume sniffled in her sleep.

"The doctor may not allow it until tomorrow," Tae said, warning in her tone.

"He'll let me in." Kaoru stood, smiling grimly. "After all, I'm Lord Himura's wife."


Kaoru knelt at the head of her husband's futon, watching him sleep, and all she could think was that he looked far too young to be what he was. He was almost thirty, she knew that much, and when he was awake it was evident in the careful gravity with which he carried himself and the certainty in his movements. But now, fast asleep and shivering slightly with the weight of unconsciousness, he didn't look his age at all. He looked barely twenty: he looked like a man who'd aged too quickly.

He was so small. She hadn't really realized it until now, how very small he was. He loomed so large in her mind that she'd simply never noticed. But he was small, now, lying in bed with his sword curving gently over his head and blood seeping through his bandages. Small and fragile and harmless.

And if she didn't know – if she hadn't seen – she might have been touched by his vulnerability. But he wasn't harmless. She wasn't sure that he was even human, now that she'd seen him fight. The shōgun's demon unleashed…

A dozen men cut down in two heartbeat's time and only their fallen bodies to mark Lord Himura's passage. She hadn't even seen him move, just the slaughter in his wake. No wonder the Western Army had been defeated. How could anything stand a chance against something like that? It must have been like trying to fight a storm, or the turning of the tide…

Lord Himura had fought at Sekigahara. So had Father. Father had died there. He must have seen Lord Himura moving like a whirlwind across the battlefield, carving empty spaces out of men's flesh like a carpenter lathing away at excess wood. He must have known how hopeless it was.

Uncle had said that Father died defending their former liege.

Had he been ordered into the breach? Had he charged into that terrible vacuum of steel and dying men? Had he faced Lord Himura at all, or had his death come at someone else's hands? Would Lord Himura tell her, if she asked? Would he even know?

Probably not. He couldn't possibly have time to note the faces of the men he killed.

There was a bit of blood on his husband's hairline. They had changed his clothes and cleaned him but missed that one, tiny streak: she was grateful for that little red smear, because it told her that what she'd seen had been real and not some desperate night terror. She hadn't married a man after all.

He made a sound deep in his throat, as though he'd heard her thoughts and wanted to respond.

The doctor had taken the bullet out and cleansed the wound with sake and herbs. Lord Himura had been lucky, he'd told her solemnly. The bullet had gone in clean, and come out easily. Often they shattered on impact, making them impossible to remove fully, and the fragments of metal would work their way through the body and into the blood. Death could come without warning, days or even weeks after an apparent recovery. But that probably wouldn't be the case here, he'd hastened to reassure her. If Lord Himura survived the night, he would most likely be fine. He'd told her that and left her there to stand sentinel at his side, with a pot of tea to see her through her vigil.

If. If he survived.

The medicine packet Tae had given her burned against her palm, hidden under the hands she kept crossed neatly on her lap as she sat at her husband's sickbed. All she had to do was feed him what was inside – mix it with the tea, hold his head up and help him swallow it down – and it would all be over, with nothing that could point to her or her family as the culprits. All the bandits were dead, still formally unidentified. It would only be a terrible and unexpected tragedy, and yes, the shōgun would assign another lord to Hito province and she would probably have to marry that one, too – if not her, then a cousin, or perhaps one of her sisters would be engaged to the new lord's son – but anyone was better than a monster.

She had agreed to return to Edo with him.

Partly because she couldn't afford not to. This marriage had to succeed: any sign that it wasn't, that he was less than pleased with her or that he was considering setting her aside would jeopardize her family's frail hold on the few scraps of power and prestige that it had left. She had to please him, somehow; if it would please him to see her smile, then she would have to learn to fake it. If it would please him to believe she loved him, then she would have to…

But it hadn't only been duty.

The way he looked at her… like a man stepping out of a long darkness and blinking in the sunlight, dazed and starving. Like someone who had everything they'd ever wanted spread out before them and yet couldn't touch any of it, could only watch as it slipped through their fingers. She believed what she'd told Misao: even now, in her heart of hearts, she believed it. He would never hurt her. He couldn't possibly look at her that way and still be able to hurt her.

He owed her nothing, not even the smallest scrap of dignity, but the only thing he'd asked of her was that she attend him at some of his meals. He'd sought out Master Oguni – who never would have come if he'd believed that Lord Himura was an evil man, not ever – and let her continue her sword training. So she'd taken a chance: brought him tea and swallowed her bitterness and tried to speak to him as though he were only a man. Because he hadn't acted as her enemy, not even on their wedding night, and she felt – that she owed him a chance, at least, to prove himself. To prove that the stories weren't true.

And then, today, he'd proven that they were.

Don't stray from this spot, he'd told her in a voice like ice, and his eyes had blazed pale and cold as winter, lit with some inner fire.

He'd slaughtered them…

Kaoru closed her eyes.

She'd come so close. Been so very nearly fooled. But she knew, now, what he was: the shōgun's demon, and if there was a man in there then he was only an echo. Lord Himura was her enemy. Her enemy. She'd ordered the deaths of men who looked to her family for guidance and protection and it was because of him, because he had ensured Lord Tokugawa's victory, because he had taken over their province and left them no other choice. So he was kind to her – so what? How could that ever, ever make up for the rest of it? For her father's death and his broken promise, for the loss of her family and her home, for the dishonor of being on the losing side. No amount of kindness could ever give any of that back to her.

That he would even try…

He stirred again, making another one of those strange, protesting noises. Her hand clenched around the medicine packet as his eyes slowly opened.

"…honored wife," he rasped out, and there was something very like awe in his eyes. She had a sudden urge to scratch them out for daring to look at her that way – as though he had any right to long for her.

"My lord," she said evenly.

"You're here." He was staring at her, stunned, and she wanted to slap him and shake him and scream at him until he understood that she would never, ever, ever –

He seemed to be expecting a response. Kaoru swallowed, feeling the lines of the folded paper against her skin. One dose. Just feed him what's in the packet, and everything will end…

"Well," she said finally. "I'm your wife, aren't I?"

Lord Himura smiled at her, eyes sparkling, and tried to sit up. He winced and grabbed at his shoulder.

"Don't," she said. "The doctor said you shouldn't strain yourself."

She turned to the tea tray, shielding it carefully from view as she poured a cup and tore the packet open, letting the deadly powder slide into the lukewarm tea. She stirred it a few times with her finger, waiting for it to dissolve.

"How are your sisters?" he asked softly, and she nearly spilled the cup.

"…they are… sleeping. My lord."

"Are they…?" He paused, then, and she could imagine the look on his face: brow drawn, hesitant, speaking with the care of a man whose life depends on his next few words. The way he'd looked whenever they'd spoken these past few days, as a fragile truce had built between them.

"Were they badly frightened?" he said, after a long pause, and there was desperate worry in his voice.

"…they are samurai, honored husband," she whispered, shame spearing briefly through her that he would dare to ask.

"Ah." He sounded a little sad. "That's so, it is… then, one should ask – were they brave?"

Her hand spasmed, splashing tea across the lacquered tray. A few drops fell onto the tatami and she clenched her fist near her heart, remembering despite herself.

She had been young, barely ten years old, and so sure of herself. Her parents had told her not to go past the marked paths in the forest, so of course she had, and startled a she-bear waking from hibernation. She never could remember how she'd managed to escape: just her panicked heart pounding in her chest and the long, breathless minutes as she ran and ran away as fast as her legs could carry her, the bear roaring outrage as it crashed through the underbrush in pursuit.

Her father had found her hiding in one of spare rooms, weeping. It wasn't only that she'd been yelled at and sent to bed without supper, she'd gasped out, choked with shame. It was that she'd been afraid.

He'd knelt beside her and folded her into his arms, rocking her gently.

"Only a fool is never afraid," he'd told her quietly, stroking her hair. "The question to ask is not whether you were afraid, but whether you were brave despite it. Were you brave, little Kaoru?"

"I don't know," she'd wailed between sobs. "I ran away!"

"Did you?" His eyes had been warm – they were always warm – and the corners had crinkled in a hidden smiled. "From the bear, certainly, and that was very wise. But you didn't lie about what had happened, or try to hide. That is brave, too, little Kaoru: to accept the consequences of our mistakes. There are many ways to be brave."

The sun had poured through the room and lit them both, gleaming off the polished wooden pillars. It was always so bright in her memories: even in the rainy days, the sun was always shining. It was bright today, too bright for so early in the summer. The rains would come as a relief.

She let out a deep, shuddering breath, and her fingers clenched around the poisoned tea.

"Yes, honored husband." And if there was a quavering note in her voice, the bare hint of vulnerability, then what did it matter? It would all be over soon. "They were very brave."

"Ah."

Turn, she urged herself. Turn and hand him the tea. He would take it. He trusted her. He would take it and drink, and sleep, and never wake again. Bullet wounds were dangerous; they could kill a hundred different ways. No one would suspect, and even if someone did there would be no proof. No proof at all.

It would be so easy.

"It seems," he started to say. His voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat. "One must beg your forgiveness, lady wife."

She couldn't see his eyes but she knew what they would look like. Hungry and pleading.

"…my forgiveness?"

"One knew there were bandits in the area." She thought she heard him swallow. "There should have been – one could have done more, surely, to prevent what occurred. That you and your sisters should be endangered in such a way…"

She exhaled sharply, hysteria trying to climb its way out of her throat. The poison tea trembled in her shaking hands.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"…one will never allow such a thing again," he said, quiet and intense and she turned, slowly, his stare heavy on her skin, to meet the eyes that she knew were boring into her. His gaze was hot and fierce, the same flame that had been in his in the garden and the training hall, and just as before she couldn't tell if it would destroy her or keep her warm forever. "Never again, honored wife. Never if there is anything one can do to prevent it."

He was pale with his wound and the exertion of talking. The smear of blood on his hairline stood out in stark relief.

Don't stray from this spot, he'd said. And now he was looking at her as if all he wanted in the world was to keep her safe…

Without thinking, she reached out her hand to wipe the blood away. He froze under her fingers, hands clenching in the blanket as she swiped it carefully from his skin. He was shaking a little; his breath came short and sharp.

His skin was warm. Not feverish, as she'd half-expected. Just warm, like a sunny place on a porch or a stone in a field on a bright day. He leaned towards her as she drew her hand away, sighing after her touch.

"This tea is cold," she said abruptly, and stood. "I'll bring a fresh pot. You should rest, honored husband."

She fled the room before he could respond and threw the poison away, cursing herself for a fool.


Kaoru closed the screen behind her, bowing her head. Tae looked up from her sewing, perfectly serene. Ayame and Suzume were still asleep.

"How is your lord husband, my lady?" she asked innocently, only a maid showing proper concern for her lord and master. Kaoru knelt at her sisters' side and tucked the blanket around them.

"His tea was cold," she said, numb and uncertain. "I – I brought him a fresh pot."

"I'm sure he appreciated it." Tae frowned, and Kaoru could guess what she was thinking: that Kaoru wasn't acting like a woman finally freed. "Do you think you should have done more?"

"No." Kaoru looked up, then, and finally met Tae's eyes. "I'm sure I've done enough."

"My lady…?" Tae searched her face, lips pursuing, looking for something that she wasn't going to find.

"Excuse me," someone called from beyond the screen. "My lady, will you permit your lowly guard to enter? There is news that you should hear."

Shirojo's voice: his silhouette, too, lean and alert through the rice paper.

"Come in," Kaoru called. He slid open the screen and nodded to Tae, one professional to another. She raised an eyebrow back at him, lips twisting into a wry smile.

"We can talk freely." Shirojo settled himself on the other side of the girls' futon, the third point in their triangle, and let his samurai mask slip. "No one's listening."

Tae looked at him for a long moment and finally nodded, mouth set in a firm, thin line.

"Then, my lady," she asked Kaoru. "Did you…?"

"I did not," Kaoru said, and smoothed down Ayame's hair. She always woke up with the most ridiculous cowlick.

"Why?" Tae set her sewing aside. "Was the doctor interfering? I can make sure he's out of the room."

"No. I'm not – we're not going to do that. Any of us."

Shirojo glance quickly between them, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "Seems I've missed something?"

"As has our lady, apparently," Tae snapped, sounding as angry as she ever got. Kaoru bit back a retort and laced her fingers in her lap, instead. "Perhaps the best chance we'll ever have – "

"We will not," Kaoru said again, trying to add the whipcrack of authority she'd heard in her mother's time and again, "take such an action, Tae."

"And why not?" Tae met her eyes and Kaoru saw no anger there: challenge, yes, but not rage. "Will you accept the Tokugawa's rule, then, as your uncle has?"

The sooner you accept your karma, the sooner you will know peace.

Kaoru stiffened, heart pounding in her throat. Tae watched her carefully, as though measuring her worth.

"No." Kaoru swallowed, hard. "But neither will I poison a man on his sickbed for vengeance's sake."

"Is he a man, then?" Tae kept watching her. "Are you so certain?"

"…no," Kaoru whispered. "But – he hasn't hurt me. Or any of us. He hasn't done anything wrong, except…"

"Except be the ally of your enemy," Tae said softly. Kaoru bowed her head, tongue thick with feelings she had no words for.

"Well, then," Tae said, turning to Shirojo. "What do you think?"

He blanched, holding up both hands. "I don't have an opinion," he said quickly. "I'm just here to protect Lady Kaoru and give her whatever help she asks for."

Tae made a dismissive noise, not quite a snort but not really a laugh, either.

"At least you know your place," she said, amusement lacing her voice. Shirojo shrugged.

"I leave the plotting to m'lord Aoshi." He grinned, and there was something inexpressibly cheerful about it: it made Kaoru want to smile back. "All that political stuff goes right over my head. But, uh, I do know that m'lord really don't think assassination is the way to go, here."

"And why is that?" Tae picked up her sewing again. She was making a new yukata, probably for Suzume: she was about due for another growth spurt.

Shirojo shrugged. "Well, it's not like it'll change anything. Shōgun'll just send a new guy along."

"A better-known lord," Tae pointed out, snipping off a loose thread. "Someone who didn't appear out of the blue fifteen years ago. Someone we can control."

"Yeah, but there's really no guarantee of that, you know…"

"It doesn't matter," Kaoru interrupted. They turned to look at her and she raised her chin, biting hard on her lower lip as uncertainty filled her head with roaring wind and her lungs with fear. "We're not going to assassinate him, even if we're given another opportunity like this. He – "

She took a breath, blood throbbing hot and heavy in her veins. Blood in the dust, blood on Lord Himura's clothing, blood soaking into her sandals. Don't stray from this spot – and a spray of blood drenching him as he stood in front of the palanquin, guarding her. Guarding her sisters.

"He's the ally of our enemy. That doesn't mean he's our enemy – my enemy. He's – I saw, just like you did, what he's capable of. But he's never – if he's done anything to actually hurt Hito province, to hurt the Kamiya since he became our lord, tell me. Because I don't know of anything."

"My lady…" Tae started to say. Kaoru held up her hand, closing her eyes as the pounding in her veins reached her temples.

"Don't," she said. "Don't start. I – I want him to be a monster!" she cried, barely keeping her voice down. "I wish he wasn't – I hate that he's so kind, but – but he is, Tae. He hasn't done a single solitary thing that's really evil, except – except be a loyal vassal to his liege. And the Tokugawa won. Maybe they wouldn't have if he hadn't been there, but he was and they did. The war is over. We lost."

"We did," Tae said softly. "I don't dispute that, my lady."

"And – I don't know – what good would it do?" Kaoru finished weakly. "If Hito gains a reputation for being difficult…"

"You sound very much like your uncle," Tae said mildly, and Kaoru nearly slapped her.

"Uh…" Shirojo raised his hand. "Um. Well. M'lord Kamiya… isn't exactly wrong, you know. Fighting to the bitter end makes for a good story, but it's bad politics. I know that m'lady loves her father…"

"Don't you ever," Kaoru said, ice shooting through her veins, "talk about my father."

"Sorry." He ducked his head. "Sorry. But – my point is, Miss Tae – Lady Kaoru – it might be best to lay low and play nice until things settle down. D'you understand? M'lord Aoshi's not intending to do a thing other than keep you safe 'til all the reports are in, I know that much."

"But a transition like this is the best time," Tae argued. "If we wait too long, the Tokugawa will only solidify their hold – "

"Enough!" Kaoru rubbed at her temples, mouth dry. "We're not going to kill him, and that's final. Not – not until – " She exhaled, worrying at her lower lip, and the words came so easily once she'd decided to say them. "Not until I know if he really is my enemy. If he really – deserves to die. Until then – when I know, that's when I'll choose. Not before. Because I don't know, right now."

She looked up at Tae, begging her to understand.

"I don't know. And I can't – act – until I know."

Even if it means I'm weak, she wanted to say. Even if it was disgracing her father's memory: even if it meant that she was becoming her uncle, who had forgotten all honor and duty to beg the Tokugawa for scraps.

Her father's voice, echoing across the years: there are many ways to be brave.

"Those are my orders," she said at last, the words echoing in her heart with a terrible finality. "Do you understand?"

"Yes'm," Shirojo said immediately. Tae hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"I understand," she said, very deliberately. "My lady."

"That's settled, then." Kaoru ignored the reproach in Tae's eyes. "Shirojo, was there something you wanted to tell me or was that just an excuse to come into the room?"

"Oh, right." He shook his head and grinned sheepishly. "Uh – you're not gonna like this."

"What else is new?" she said wryly. "Tell me."

"Your cousin – your uncle's kid – is here."

Kaoru blinked. For a moment, the world pitched sideways.

"…what!?"

Shirojo ducked, waving his hands in a conciliatory manner. "I don't know how he did it! But he's passing himself off as an apprentice groom, and – uh, actually, he's doing a pretty damn good job, so far…"

"I'm gonna kill him," Kaoru ground out, fury shaking her limbs. She stood. "I'm going to hogtie him and drown him in the pond and let Ginko eat him! I can't believe – "

"Hey, hey, calm down." Shirojo scrambled to his feet. "Hold on. Think it through."

She loomed over him and he blanched. "I'm just saying. Your uncle's pretty hell-bent on the kid becoming Lord Himura's new page, right? This gets the kid to Edo, at least, and that he's willing to go this far… Lord Himura's gonna have to accept him as a page, right? If I understand the situation correctly," he added quickly. "It'd be too much of a snub, otherwise. And you want to know Lord Himura's character, don't you? So…"

"I will not," she said, rage in her voice like a snake's rattle, "sacrifice Yahiko for my own ends. And if you ever suggest – "

"Your uncle's gonna use the kid to suck up to the Tokugawa one way or another," Shirojo said bluntly. "If he can't get him into Lord Himura's household, he'll put him somewhere else. Where do you want your cousin – someplace you can keep an eye on him, or with a total stranger?"

Kaoru froze. Shirojo eyed her warily. She withdrew, slowly, gripping her hands tightly over her breastbone.

Yahiko…

If her uncle was willing to tie him to monster, who else might he be willing to give him to? She knew the stories as well as anyone: the things no one spoke of openly, of men who took the ancient traditions of love and loyalty between master and apprentice and perverted it, made it something ugly and degrading. It wasn't supposed to happen that way – it was supposed to happen only if the apprentice was of the proper age, and only with his consent – but there were always evil men, and if a man was powerful and careful, who could stop him?

If Yahiko was sent somewhere beyond her reach…

"…he's your responsibility," she forced out through numb lips. "If any harm comes to him, even once, I swear I will make you suffer. Do you understand?"

She caught Shirojo's gaze and held it. He blanched, nodding, and his throat worked as he swallowed.

"I understand, my lady. I'll guard him like he was my own brother."

"You had better," she said fiercely. Then she sighed.

"You should rest, my lady," Tae said without meeting her eyes, stitching away at the yukata.

Kaoru was suddenly exhausted: the weight of the day, of all she'd said and done and decided was crashing down on her, dragging at her like sodden clothes. It was barely past midday, but all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and pretend that nothing had changed.

"I will," she said quietly. "After I bring my husband his tea."


Lord Himura was asleep again by the time she returned. She watched him for a while: the slow rise and fall of his chest, the small twitches of his dreams. Again, she was struck by how small he seemed, how powerless he looked unless you knew. Unless you'd seen.

"…who are you?" she whispered.

He had no answer for her, and when she searched her heart for one all she could see was his hungry, pleading gaze.