A/N: So, to compensate for the utter lack of excitement in the last chapter, this one is just chock full o' action (sort of) – and even better yet, Saitō actually makes an appearance :D Yahoo!

I've also realized that jamming out to the Rurouni Kenshin OST helps in developing the plot for this story xD

Thank you once again to everyone reading and reviewing!!

Warning: Blood, war, death, sensitive topics, some coarse language.

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin © Nobuhiro Watsuki. Heart of the Wolf © KaibaKitty.

Tokio did not wait. She ran into the kitchen to tell them what happened, but Kachiro nor Hiroaki could stop her fast enough. She would never know how she physically managed; all she knew was that, while she ran to Kyoto, she was mind over body already.

She could see the fires before she even entered the city. People were screaming and running every which way. Police officers tried to keep order, but they could do nothing to keep the chaos at bay. Tokio was not stopped or questioned when she ran into the city. No one bothered to notice the one civilian running in the wrong direction. Tokio was ready to collapse from sheer exhaustion. It had taken her hours to get to Kyoto; even though it was night, the battles remained relentless. Corpses were piling up in the streets. Broken pieces of armor, abandoned swords, shattered glass, and splotches of blood lined the streets. Piles of burning debris were scattered where severed limbs and grotesquely disfigured bodies did not litter the ground. Everywhere she looked, places she once recognized as houses and shops turned into fodder for the flames. She saw some men fighting, some dying, some being slaughtered, some yelling victory cries... But no where amidst the fires and fights did she see her brother.

Tokio screamed for him as loud as her sore lungs would allow. She screamed until her throat was raw and even the air moving past it hurt. He didn't respond to her calls, not once. It was pointless to call for him when he might be too far away to hear... but she called him anyway. She had nothing else to do but look and yell and pray for him to respond.

It was then that she saw the body. A boy with untidy hair and a green kimono lay in the wreckage of what was once a house. Tokio knew that her legs did not carry her there by mistake; it was her house. Or at least, it was her house before it, too, was set aflame. And the boy in the rubble was not just any other boy. Trembling, her body feeling numb, she approached the boy. Tokio dropped to her knees by his side. Only then did she notice that he was sobbing.

Tears carved twin rivers down his ash-smeared cheeks. The side of his face was slashed, a gash starting under his right eye and curving down to his neck just below his ear. He was covered in blood, and she assumed most of it was his. The front of his kimono was torn open. A perfect diagonal sliced down his chest, his stomach, his hip... It was bleeding profusely despite his desperate attempts to stem the flow of blood with his dirty palms. She brushed his hair away from his face, and murmured in a faraway voice, "Mori..."

He looked up at her, his eyes wide with horror. Mori spoke as if he was being strangled. "T... tk... i..."

She shook her head, gathering him into her arms. She cradled his head and stared down at him. She felt so empty... So lost...

"Mori... Don't talk..."

He gave a jerky shake of his head. He opened his mouth to speak again, but coughed. It was so violent that it caused him even more pain; he arched up off the ground, his hands scrambling over the wound on his chest.

"Tk... Toki... o... hurts... really hurts...." he groaned.

She was at a loss. She'd treated wounds before. She watched her aunt fix up people like this before. But this was nothing like anything she'd ever experienced. This was Mori, her brother. He was laying in a puddle of his own blood and dirt, slashed and bleeding and dying. He was dying.

But somehow, it didn't feel real. She could hear his screams of agony, see his tear-streaked face contorted in pain, feel the warm blood flowing over her hands... But she could do nothing. She had no supplies, no where to get medical equipment, nothing to take off the edge of the pain... Never did she feel so hopeless, so useless, as she did the moment she realized her brother was dying and there was nothing she could do about it.

She stroked his face and told him, "It's going to be okay. You'll be okay."

She looked around. There was no one. Not even a stray cat. They were alone, all alone. The fires burning all around them made it feel a hundred degrees hotter. Ash and dirt were sticking in the crevices of Mori's wounds. Tokio wanted to wash it away to decrease the risk of infection, but at the very least it seemed to be helping to clot his blood. Then, she realized that Mori wasn't bleeding much anymore. His breathing was shallower, his cries silenced altogether. He no longer thrashed and grabbed at his wound as if trying to force the rent flesh together again. It was as if he was finally drained...

"Mori?"

He looked up at her, his voice detached and whispery. "So stupid... never should... have come..."

She was not sure if he was referring to himself or to her. Nevertheless, she insisted, "Don't talk. Someone will come and help..."

Mori did not seem to hear her, but more tears were leaking down his face. "I'm... so useless..."

"Stop that."

"Can't even k... keep you safe..."

"That's enough. Save your energy."

He looked into her eyes, but his were oddly blank and expressionless. He was staring through her. "It... it hurts, anego..."

And then, his eyelids began to close. His tense muscles relaxed. She stared at him uncomprehendingly. It was happening so fast... How did it all happen so fast? She brushed his sticky bangs from his face and asked quietly, "Mori?"

But he did not respond. Tokio felt his skin. It felt so cold, too cold for a man surrounded by raging fires. Her lower lip was trembling and her throat was tight. No, she told herself again. No...

"Onii... chan?" she murmured.

It was the first time she'd ever addressed him as her older brother, the first time she'd ever called him anything but his name.

She couldn't breathe. Tokio nearly gagged on the words when she tried to call out to him again. But she knew with chilling finality that he would not respond. Then she began heaving. The tears would not come, but her lungs were rapidly expelling air and barely allowed her to draw breath.

She pulled him to her closer, cradling his maimed body in her arms, and she screamed. "This isn't happening!" It had to be a dream. An illusion. A hallucination. There was no conceivable way this was happening to Mori.

Then someone hooked their arms under hers, prying her hands from her brother's body. "Let me go!" She thrashed against the much stronger person dragging her away.

"Tokio – stop it, there's nothing you can do--" It was Kachiro's voice.

"Don't say that!"

"It's over. It's over."

She finally pulled away from him, shaking and unsteady on her own two feet. Then she grabbed the front of her cousin's kimono and stared up at him with her wide, desperate eyes. "He's still breathing – take him to Michiko," she begged. "She'll know what to do."

Kachiro looked like he was about to argue, but he shook his head sadly and gazed at Mori. "... Alright. I will," he promised.

Then he looked behind himself suddenly. "Tami?" he called. "Tami, where are you?"

Tokio stared at Kachiro like he was out of his mind. "You brought Tami here?!"

Kachiro insisted, "No! She followed me, and I didn't know until I was halfway here. I couldn't send her back alone, but I had to find you and Mori."

Rather than berate him, she declared, "I'll find Tami. You take Mori to Michiko."

She turned and began to flat-out sprint. But, she was exhausted and her body was feeling it. She hadn't gone far before she had to stop and catch her breath. Tokio couldn't help but to be amazed that her sister disappeared so fast. How far could a tired seven-year-old possibly go?

That was when she saw him.

She didn't see him in any armor or uniform, so she guessed he was an Imperialist. She quickly hid behind what remained of a house wall. From there, she peered out at the man. He was young from what she could see, maybe about her age, and wore a dark kimono. His hair was long, red, and held in a high ponytail. A single long, vertical scar carved down his left cheek.

Then, the young man stopped. He looked over in her direction as if he knew exactly where she was. She gulped. Was he psychic, or could he possibly hear her heart hammering away in her chest?

A second man appeared immediately after the first. The second was a far more familiar face. Even though he was covered in scarlet splatters just like the last time they met, the expression he wore this time was much different. Saitō did not look cocky in victory as he did leaving the Ikeda-ya. He looked perplexed, on edge... What could have possibly made him look this way? The Loyalists were winning. He should have been ecstatic. And yet... he was not.

The redhead stood his ground and called, "Duel me."

Saitō scoffed, turning to walk away. "Don't make me laugh. This battle's over."

Tokio wasn't exactly sure what happened at first. One moment, the redheaded swordsman was standing there. The next, he was gone – and he reappeared in front of Saitō. He stopped mid-step and glowered at the boy. He was fast. Saitō paused and muttered, "I've seen you in the city before."

The redhead snapped, "The Shinsengumi are the greatest threat to the Imperialists' success. I can't let you pass."

Saitō raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Judging by your appearance... you must be the Chōshū assassin I've been hearing about."

The young man said nothing. He glared at Saitō unblinkingly, and crouched into a vaguely familiar stance. He kept his sword sheathed, his hand hovering over the grip without drawing. Saitō studied him for a moment and said with certainty, "So you are the Battōsai."

Tokio realized the stance was battōjutsu, a sword drawing technique. To have a battle name like 'Battōsai,' he must have truly been a master of battōjutsu. Saitō did not look bothered by this. Instead, he drew his sword, scowling, "I don't have time for this, so you'd better hurry up and die quickly."

Something was wrong. Since when was Saitō this distracted in battle? She'd known him to be arrogant and focused when it came to a fight, and never did he sound so reluctant to duel someone. She watched him take down numerous opponents alone, relishing the thrill of a one-sided fight. There was something strange going on, and she wanted desperately to know what it was.

Saitō made the first move. He slashed with his katana, which was sure to be a lethal attack. Battōsai drew his sword – though the movement was so fast Tokio did not notice until the two blades clashed. Fluidly, the redhead unsheathed his wakizashi with his left hand, swiping parallel to the path his katana made. Saitō saw what was happening before the wakizashi was unsheathed because of the way Battōsai's left hand was positioned, and mimicked him by drawing his wakizashi as well to meet his opponent's.

Battōsai pushed himself backwards. The redhead was clearly fast and powerful, but he was far smaller in stature than Saitō, who had a weight advantage. He would not be beaten because of their difference in size, however; Battōsai leaped with renewed vigor, slashing down with murderous intent. Saitō would not be beaten, either, because if their differences in speed. He swung upwards towards the Battōsai. It appeared, for a moment, that Saitō had made contact, just as it seemed the Battōsai's hit landed when he struck at Saitō. But neither showed any signs of injury when the Battōsai landed elegantly on the ground.

Saitō was snarling when he pulled left arm back, aiming at his enemy. The thrust he made was so swift, so powerful, that the Battōsai was too shocked to dodge properly. Saitō's sword grazed his shoulder.

He glared at Battōsai and growled, "Next time, I won't miss."

The fight had not gone on long, but it felt so wrong. Saitō wiped out his opponents with ease. Yet this young man, the assassin called Battōsai, was not like any of the wolf's other opponents.

As the fight carried on, Tokio lost herself in thought. The wolf versus the hitokiri. The wolf who ignited that spark inside of her... The wolf who terrified her... The wolf who saved her...

She could not see him losing, but she still was not satisfied. Saitō was a superb swordsman, though Battōsai was as well. Tokio was shocked when she realized that she was worried about Saitō.

A few weeks ago, she never would have felt this way and been firmly convinced that the victor did not matter because they were both just killers anyway. But in light of everything she'd learned about Saitō since the Ikeda-ya Affair, she just couldn't think that way anymore.

Something else distracted her. Several yards away, a figure stumbled. Tokio did a double take, unable to believe her eyes. It was Tami! Tokio felt like a complete idiot. Here she was, watching this fight, when her little sister was lost among fighting samurai and burning buildings! How could she have gotten so sidetracked? She stood up, forgetting the fight, and called, "Tami!"

Whether it was due to the fight, the distance, or the fire, Tami did not hear Tokio. Saitō and Battōsai on the other hand heard her clearly. Both stopped immediately and looked in her direction. Battōsai did not look surprised to see her, and neither did Saitō. At least, until he saw her face. He stared, bewildered and slightly angry. "Tokio?" he muttered incredulously. Battōsai threw Saitō a sideways glance and asked, "You know her?"

The redhead did not get an answer to this question. He was interrupted by a shrill scream. The hair on the back of Tokio's neck rose at the sound. Tokio, Saitō, and Battōsai looked for the source of the noise.

Men on horseback arrived, seeming disinterested in the samurai. One of them had dismounted and grabbed Tami by the scruff of her neck. "Heh," he mused, "this is a pretty one."

"It'll fetch a decent price," another agreed. "Take it and hurry up!"

Tokio did not understand. The man holding her sister tossed her over the side of his horse with her hands bound. He jumped up on the saddle as well, galloping off down the road. Tami struggled up, looking back desperately for some sort of help. It was the mountain striped haori that she noticed first.

"Ookami anikiiii!"

It all happened so fast. Battōsai ran after them, but even he could not keep up with the horses.

Tokio couldn't believe what she was seeing. First, Mori was dying, now Tami had been kidnapped... "TAMI!" she screamed, but to no avail.

Something inside of Saitō snapped. Anger like none he'd ever felt before flared inside of his chest. Never did he ever feel such an intense desire to kill. Whether it was Tami calling him 'big brother wolf' or Tokio's agonized cry, he didn't know. What he did know was that he wanted revenge. His clenched hands were shaking with fury. He had to go after the kidnappers. He had to kill them, save Tami, reunite her with Tokio.

He wondered vaguely why he wanted to see them impaled on his blade so badly. He'd seen slavers and traffickers before. These should have been no different... But they were. They took Tami. Tami was Tokio's sister. And Tokio, inexplicably, meant more to him than she should have. Seeing her so tormented was awful. The only way to make her happy again was to kill the bastards that were causing her so much pain. He looked down at her, the girl whom he never should have met, the girl whom he'd be oddly empty without, and knew with certainty that he couldn't let her suffer like this.

Tokio started to run after the men on horseback, but she was too exhausted. Her body couldn't take it anymore. She fell to her knees before she'd gone more than a few steps. She was gasping raggedly for air, but she couldn't get enough of it. Her limbs felt like lead, and no matter how hard she struggled to get to her feet, she just couldn't do it.

If only she could turn back time, keep Mori close so he wouldn't run off and do anything stupid... If she watched him more closely, convinced him that it wasn't worth the risk... But it was too late. Mori was hemorrhaging in a pile of debris while Tami was carted off by strange men right before her eyes. Everything was falling apart. She didn't know where to go next. She had to find Tami, heal Mori, help Michiko... Not even her house was standing anymore. Her entire world had been thrown into a state of upheaval, and there was nothing she could do to stop the madness.

Then, he crouched in front of her. She looked slowly, the fear she harbored not completely absolved. He asked, "Can you walk?"

Tokio shook her head, surprised she had the energy for even that. Saitō turned around, still crouching. He commanded, "Get on my back."

She didn't have the strength to argue or question him. Weakly, she reached towards him, slipping her hands over his broad shoulders. Tokio could do no more than that. He pulled her closer by her wrists so she was snugly pressed against his warm, strong back, and hooked his arms under her legs. She felt childish. There was something subtly gentle about the way he pulled her closer and carried her. He ran at an even pace, barely jostling her.

They soon caught up with Battōsai, who was standing at the end of the road leading out of Kyoto. He looked murderous. Saitō demanded, "Which way did they go?"

He pointed to the east. "Towards Shiga."

"They must be slavers. The abandoned village near Shiga has been raided for captured women before."

Battōsai looked from Saitō to the girl on his back. "I don't know what your business with them is, but... I won't kill you yet."

Saitō muttered, "We'll finish our duel another day."

And so, he ran. Tokio didn't know how long or how far. All she knew was that she found an infinitesimal amount of comfort with him, and that shred of relief was all that was keeping her sane. Without him there, without his warm hands and even breathing and strong shoulders, she would be lost.

It was cold and too dark for her eyes to see, but Saitō was still going. How did one man have such energy? He had no doubt been fighting during the battle in Kyoto, and he must have worn himself out at least a little bit from the fight with Battōsai. He ran for hours with a full-grown girl on his back, and yet he never showed any signs of tiredness. What was driving him on? She didn't know, and she was too tired to think about it.

Finally, he stopped. It was then that she noticed how heavily he was panting. He was covered in sweat and his body felt ten times hotter than the air around them. Tokio wearily opened her eyes a fraction of an inch to look around. She still could not see clearly. There was some faint light from above from stars and the waxing moon which allowed her to make out the forest surrounding them. He eased her onto the ground and leaned her back against a sturdy tree. Gasping for breath, he dropped to sit a few inches from her.

Tokio looked over at him, wanting to speak, but unable to muster the energy to do so. He felt her eyes on him and turned his head towards the girl. Those glowing yellow orbs sent a slight shiver down her spine though she did not feel afraid. He said nothing to her. He was too tired, just like her. She did not even bother trying to get into a comfortable position against the tree trunk; her eyelids drooped until they closed and her exhausted body drowned her in the cool darkness of sleep.