So … where do I begin? It's been five months. Five! I'm terrible. Suffice to say I was dealt some particularly devastating news after the last chapter went up, and my muse sort of decided to go on an extended holiday. And then, I found a way to turn the news in question back into something that was good and positive, and doing so just took up all of my time. Also, my health sort of exploded. :shifty look: I'm now under a few strict orders to take care of myself, but all these rounds of tests and work (and now study!) have sapped what little time I have left.

Not to mention, I must admit, that this chapter I knew was going to be terrifyingly hard to begin with. If you aren't ready to tear my head off, then I thank you for your patience, and I hope that after such a long wait that this chapter does not disappoint.

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all associated properties do not belong to me and never will. I'd say that's a shame, but it's probably a good thing …

Additional Disclaimer: Certain quotes have been taken from Maigo-chan's translations page, circa Vol 21 of the Rurouni Kenshin manga. (I should also point out that translation page was what got me hooked on Ruroken in the first place. Excellent job.)

Lastly, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Heather Logan, whose helpful advice on rabbit hunting in turn inspired her to write a wonderful one-shot, which in turn I have obtained permission to reference in this chapter. If you haven't yet read 'Think Like a Rabbit', I recommend you do. It's very good.

Enjoy!

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Comparisons

There were many things about Tsuji Yamashita that grated on Kenshin's nerves. Once understanding that the hitokiri's intention was not to kill, but rather offer him the protection he needed to escape from Kyoto, Yamashita babbled. The words were not friendly banter, but rather a nervous, almost terrified attempt to fill the silence as they traveled the road. Kenshin was not used to people talking at him, and could remember only one other person who had done so. The fact that the other person had been Iizuka did nothing for his temper, especially given other comparisons that could be drawn. He wondered bleakly if the only real difference between the two was that he knew from the beginning that Yamashita was a traitor.

On the other hand, the boy had yet to demand anything of him or even brag about the information he was bringing to Katsura. Yamashita was frightened, but did not fit the role of a coward. After half a day of traveling with him, keeping a careful eye on their surroundings even as he noticed the strain on Yamashita's face and the dark shadows beneath his eyes, Kenshin grudgingly softened his opinion again. Something had happened to seriously traumatize the boy; enough that he had felt the need to flee his squad and return home to his family. So he focused on his duty, measured his pace to match Yamashita's more hesitant steps and let the boy chatter. The road was deserted; few people traveled between towns at this time of year if they could help it. Despite this, Kenshin stayed off it as much as possible. The Shinsengumi would never let one of their own go. There would be pursuit. He just wasn't sure when.

The third day saw ominously dark clouds engulf the sky, and he knew there would be a storm before the day was out. Though he had packed carefully for winter travel, Kenshin wondered if either of them would have adequate protection without a sheltered fire. Certainly Yamashita would have no experience with braving a blizzard out in the open. He glanced back to the boy, struggling with the weight of his pack, face pinched with cold. Yamashita was silent now; the days of travel had worn him down until he was little more than a ghost trailing along in Kenshin's shadow. He was clearly unused to traveling such long distances, let alone during the middle of winter. Yet he hadn't complained.

Kenshin watched him as he staggered onward, and then fell back silently to fall into step with him. "There is a storm coming," he said.

"Can we…" Yamashita stopped, pausing to get his breath back. "Are we going to be … all right?"

"Give me your pack." He forestalled the automatic protest with a flat stare. "Now."

Wordlessly, Yamashita shrugged his shoulders out of the straps, holding it out to him with effort. It was by far the lighter of the two. Kenshin took it without a word and turned on his heel, continuing on at a faster pace.

After a moment, he could hear the footfalls as Yamashita hurried to catch up with him. "Thank you. I … I really appreciate it."

"Don't," he said roughly. Don't appreciate me. That's not what I'm here for. "You were too slow. That's all."

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The persistent throb of his knee, swollen and even more painful in the cold, did nothing to help his temper. Kenshin had no choice but to favour it, slowing him enough that keeping up with Saito's long-legged stride would be impossible unless he wanted to try scurrying like a dog. It was something he refused to do.

Instead, he limped at the most comfortable pace he could, trying to resist the urge to cross both arms across his chest in a vain attempt to preserve body warmth. The morning's battle had done nothing to help their situation; now that both of them were further injured with varying cuts and gashes, clothing ripped and torn, the bitter cold had more ways to seep into his bones. At his most cynical, Kenshin wondered if - by postponing the fight - all they had accomplished was delaying their death by a day. If they did not find adequate shelter by nightfall, he knew, they would not be able to protect themselves from the harsh drop in temperature.

At other times, he wondered hopefully if Saito would give in to impatience and leave him behind. He didn't care much either way about resuming their match. What he cared about right now was the prospect of being forced to remain in the wolf's company for the better part of a week. The indulgent looks that Saito kept throwing his way were already sawing at his nerves.

Eventually, Saito turned and regarded him patiently. "I didn't think I kicked you that hard. Do you need me to carry you?"

An offer that neither of them had any intention of taking up. It would be a cold day in hell, Kenshin vowed, before he let Saito even pretend to help him in any way. He shot the wolf the coldest stare he could and stalked past without a word. After a moment he heard a quiet snort that set his teeth on edge, followed by slower, more deliberate footsteps that somehow seemed rank insult.

Saito was clearly doing worse than he was; the bruising on his temple only served to accentuate the man's pallor, and his eyes were shadowed and bloodshot. Kenshin took no satisfaction from that fact. If anything, it meant that their chances of survival were halved again.

He was hungry.

The last time he'd eaten had been with Yamashita the morning before. They'd eaten breakfast on the road a scant mile from the river pass. The meal had been interrupted when Kenshin had finally sighted Saito's squad far behind them, coming up fast. There hadn't been time to eat after that; nothing but a headlong run to the bridge in an attempt to stake better ground for the inevitable confrontation. With Yamashita to protect, anywhere else would have resulted in failure …

He realised with a start that Saito would have gone without food even longer. Kenshin considered that, and sighed. Damn. He stopped, turning to glance at Saito's curious face. "We should find shelter in the next hour," he said carefully. "It would be foolish to continue like this."

He expected mockery for the comment, and was surprised when Saito merely nodded thoughtfully. "We've managed to travel some distance. I suppose settling into camp before sundown would be wise."

By the time they found shelter and found serviceable firewood, it would be closer to late afternoon. They would need the extra hours of daylight to find food; he was sure neither of them relished the idea of being caught away from the fire once night fell.

They traveled gradually uphill, slowly winding their way through the countryside to the top of the pass. It had been a long way down to the river from the bridge; climbing back to the road was proving to be a strenuous task in itself. The ground had become more treacherous, uneven beneath the deceptive blanket of snow, creating small pockets of unstable footing. Twice, tired and distracted, Kenshin plunged through the mass of white to his thighs. He gritted his teeth, ploughing through the icy cold until he could drag himself out again, refusing to look back at Saito. That he was cold and aching did not give him any excuse for carelessness; he had lived for years in such a place, and should know better. At least Saito had no reason to think that—

"You're clumsy for a person raised in the wilderness, Battousai."

He stiffened, both at the mocking tone and the assumption. The less Saito guessed about his life, the better. "You know nothing about me."

"Hn."

Kenshin hesitated, and then pushed on stubbornly when Saito said nothing else. There was a fallen tree ahead, dusted with snow; he wondered if the storm two nights ago had caused it to topple. He skirted the branches, stooping to break some of the more flimsy ones away. The less time they had to devote to the collection of firewood, the better. There was a cracking, splintering sound behind him as Saito followed suit.

Shortly after that, they came to the rock shelf. Kenshin stared at it measuringly; where until now they had been steadily travelling on an upward slope, nature now dictated that they climb a short way in order to continue. It didn't concern him; the small cliff was fifteen feet high, and would barely slow them down on a good day. But two falls into a snowdrift had accomplished what their earlier swordfight had not; he could barely feel his legs.

On the other hand, if they were very lucky …

"There." Saito had paused alongside him, lifting one arm to point east. The rock face curved slightly forward, creating a small recess that would be protected from the wind on two sides. If the night turned stormy, they would have little overhead shelter, but at mid-afternoon the sky was clear. Kenshin took a breath. It was likely the best they were going to get.

"The tree that fell," he said. "We can strip it of some of the branches."

"Most of those will be too damp for firewood," Saito pointed out reasonably.

"I know that. But they'll dry, and before that they'll be better to rest on than the wet ground."

"True enough." Saito drew his sword, turning on his heel. "I'll cut them."

Kenshin winced. It had been bad enough when Saito had used his sword to shatter a tree trunk earlier in the day. A sword was not made to be used so brutally. "With a katana?"

Saito gave him a disdainful look. "What would you like me to use, Battousai? My teeth?"

Ask a stupid question. He clenched his jaw. "No."

The wolf grinned. "I could use your sword, I suppose."

"No."

"Then stop being a fool. I have no choice. You may consider it recompense for the tree earlier."

Saito turned away once more, stalking toward the fallen tree as if it were just as much prey as any living creature. He shook a branch free of snow, stretching it out before severing the wood from the trunk in one quick slice. The set of his mouth showed that Saito did not much like using his sword in this fashion, either.

Kenshin sighed.

"Battousai."

He was immediately suspicious. "What?"

Saito straightened, branch in hand, and offered him a placid smile. "There was a rabbit trail that crossed our route just earlier. Make yourself useful and hunt one down."

I should have known. The request was a fair one. Yet he couldn't escape the feeling that Saito was testing him. His earlier remark about growing up out here had hit too close to the mark. Kenshin feigned ignorance. "With just a sword?"

Saito smirked outright, amber eyes all too knowing. His reply was carefully phrased innocence. "You're the fast one. I'm sure you could outrun a rabbit."

"And you're the wolf," Kenshin shot back. "Stalking a rabbit should only be natural."

"It seems," Saito said mildly, "that in some things there is not much difference between a wolf and a hitokiri."

Kenshin ground his teeth together to avoid snapping back a childish retort, and instead turned to limp back the way they'd come. At least hunting for food would put him out of the range of Saito's snide observations for an hour or two. Yet despite his frustration, he could not refrain from wincing when he heard the sharp crack of the katana as it sheared another branch away.

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He followed the crisp tread of their footprints back until he found the trail Saito had mentioned. The tracks would have to be recent, given the snowfall two nights ago. Despite his words to Saito, he knew of several ways to snare a rabbit without being reduced to chasing one down. Hiko Seijuro had taught him far more than swordplay on the mountain; stalking and trapping game had been a smaller facet of his training, but nevertheless they'd had several impromptu (and occasionally accidental) camping trips over the years. 'Think like a rabbit', indeed. Only three years ago. It seemed far longer.

Saito was overly curious about him. He supposed it made sense for the Shinsengumi captain to find out as much about his enemy as possible, given the unique opportunity, and wondered just how Saito intended to actually use what information he gleaned. If the wolf decided Kenshin had family in the wilderness, would he then try to use that family against him? No sooner had he considered that, than the image of a Shinsengumi squad attempting to scale Hiko's mountain in an attempt to arrest his former master crossed his mind.

He almost smiled.

It occurred to him, then, that Saito had sent him off to find food without a single qualm that he would choose the opportunity to escape. Kenshin considered that. He had no intention of escaping now. Even if it hadn't been common sense in their current condition to work together, a deal had been struck. Saito had obviously come to the same conclusion; what surprised him was that the wolf had clearly decided to credit Kenshin with enough intelligence to realise it for himself. Given his constant mockery and belittlement, the idea seemed out of place. No. It was more likely that the fault lay with his own perceptions. There was always more to a man than the façade he presented to others. Yamashita had been a clear example of that.

To judge Saito merely by his sarcastic insults would be rank stupidity. Of course, Kenshin thought darkly, he certainly made it hard. What was it about the wolf that jarred him so much? Iizuka had constantly mocked him, and he had occasionally borne the brunt of teasing before from those in Choshu who hadn't known any better. None of them had ever come close to ruffling his composure.

Not entirely true, a soft thought intruded, forcing his honesty. There had been one sore spot, one subject of discussion which had always riled him, almost without effort.

So this is Himura's girl!

And just as unfriendly as Himura!

So. How was she?

Kenshin closed his eyes. It had been a long year, and the last time he had hunted it had not been for rabbits.

Such memories were dangerous.

He ran a hand over the bark of a nearby tree, considering his options. He could try and fashion a snare from either the underbark or a thin strip of cloth, but he wasn't sure how successful it would be. Rabbits were creatures of twilight at the best of times; in winter, he would be lucky to see one at all before nightfall. Perhaps he would be forced to stalk one down with a sword after all. He did not relish being away from the camp once darkness set in. It would be too cold by far. Better that he returned to a warm fire and Saito's scathing sarcasm, than be caught out here with nothing but his memories to keep him company.

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They returned to the road, hoping to make better time. Fortune was with them, of a sort; ahead, perhaps two miles from the river pass, they saw an isolated cabin. The oncoming weather gave little choice. Kenshin swallowed his reservations and allowed Yamashita to knock on the door to ask for shelter against the storm. Inside lived a young widow and her parents, well stocked for the winter, who welcomed the boy in to warm himself by the fire. They looked at Kenshin's shadowed eyes with more doubt, which was fine. He spoke softly and politely and curled himself in the corner out of the way, allowing Yamashita to assist the widow in preparing a meal for them, charming her with his naïve chatter.

That had been hours ago, and the storm had descended in force to howl around the confined quarters of the cabin. Then, Kenshin had watched Yamashita's smile and wondered at his cheerful nature. Given his pale silence of the past few hours, it was hard to fathom how the boy could go from one extreme to the other in such a short time.

Now, he crouched with one hand pressed hard over the boy's mouth, muffling the sudden wail as Yamashita fought his way up from obvious nightmare. The cabin was small, and he didn't want their hosts to be woken. Only when he was sure that Yamashita was lucid did Kenshin remove his hand, drawing back to let the boy sit up.

They sat there for a while in awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," Yamashita finally muttered, voice soft.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, that's—" He paused, and then took a deep breath. Painfully, he added, "I'm doing the wrong thing again. Saito-san will be laughing at me so hard by now."

Privately, Kenshin wondered how well Yamashita knew his own commanding officer. A humorous thought that faded quickly; he shifted his gaze away into the darkness, kept his expression unreadable, and waited to see if the boy would continue.

Nothing.

"I'm sorry," Yamashita repeated miserably. "I'm really very—"

"Tsuji-san."

He tried not to wince at the haunted expression that swung to look in his direction. In the dark of the early hours, Yamashita's eyes seemed impossibly wide and dazed. Kenshin gave a weary sigh. He was familiar, at least, with the mood that could overtake a person after a bad dream.

Even so, he struggled with the words, trying to find a gentle way to broach the subject. In the end, he was quietly blunt. "Why are you running?"

Yamashita was quiet for a long time. When finally his lips moved, his response was so soft that it was drowned out by the howl of the wind outside. After a moment, he repeated himself, words barely audible.

"… killed. I … I'm stupid, I was just stupid. I wasn't …" His mouth thinned. "I was too naïve and I believed the wrong things. The wrong people. Saito-san … was right. But," he added in a low voice, "To make me watch was too much--"

"Start from the beginning," Kenshin advised gently.

It took several false starts, but in the end the boy's buried hurt and anger surfaced. By the time the wind began to die outside, Yamashita had poured out the tale of the woman he'd fallen love with only to find that she was one of Satsuma's spies. He had found out only when she was dragged in for questioning; the emphasis on that one word told Kenshin all too well what had transpired after that. Yamashita told the story matter-of-factly, the intensity of his emotion visible only in the death grip he kept on his blanket and the rigid, iron set of his posture. His face was white.

They had made him watch. Torn the girl's lies apart before his eyes; broken her and then given her a coward's execution, and Saito had forced him to witness it. Kenshin suspected what the wolf might have been thinking. Having Yamashita there to witness the entirety of events without interference set him apart from the woman and would go some way to preventing the Shogunate from tarring the boy with the same brush. Even so, to resort to such a harsh measure … surely, having him denounce her would have been enough?

He listened in silence, knowing now what Yamashita had tried to apologise for. The boy had not planned out some long betrayal of the Shinsengumi; he had merely been unable to cope with what had been done to him. Kenshin found he could not blame him at all.

But by the same token, that meant that at the point Yamashita had decided to run, he would not have been trusted by his own squad. The likelihood that he could deliver on his promise of 'useful information and assistance' was small.

Which meant Kenshin's own presence here was based on a lie. And now, trapped in a cabin days away from anywhere, Yamashita had chosen in a fit of early morning guilt to confess. Katsura had been lied to; this mission was a farce.

Which meant there was nothing to stop Kenshin from walking away.

He closed his eyes. Opened them to the sight of Yamashita's deathly pale features, head bowed in acceptance of whatever judgment the hitokiri might feel necessary to hand down.

In the end, he found there was only one decision he could make.

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Darkness came early in winter.

The crackling fire masked the sound of returning footsteps. Nevertheless, Saito lifted his gaze to stare across the fire at the same moment that Kenshin stepped into the light. Two rabbits dangled loosely from fingers that looked blue with cold; he moved close to the fire, every movement jerked as if trying to control the shivering that was no doubt racking his frame. Neither of them were dressed for this. Packs and supplies they'd had in plenty and lost, no doubt fetched up somewhere much further downstream and ruined by the river. Even so, Saito thought scornfully, there is no point to pretending he is not cold.

He opened his mouth to say as much and then checked himself without quite knowing why. The hitokiri's eyes were shadowed and dull, a far cry from the snapping, angry amber that had tried to burn through Saito at every opportunity earlier in the day. The hitokiri Battousai dispatched his enemies with deadly efficiency and that same, shuttered expression on his face. It was odd that Kenshin chose to come back to camp bearing that self-same look now.

Saito found he much preferred the anger. He gave a snort. "You took your time."

Kenshin flicked a brief glance at him before turning his attention back to the fire, lifting his free hand to the warmth. He was silent, mouth twisting slightly as he stared into the flames. Saito wondered what he was thinking. He also wondered, with no small amount of irritation, how long the man was going to stand there dangling two perfectly good rabbits in his grip instead of cooking them like any sane person would.

"There's a cabin, up by the pass," Kenshin said at length. "We – Yamashita and I - saw it on the way to the bridge."

"You saw it." Saito gave a sly smile. "I see."

"If the weather turns on us, we won't have a chance as we are." The hitokiri hesitated, his reluctance to continue clear in the way he tilted his head, turning a suddenly wary gaze on Saito. "We should see if they can spare extra clothing or blankets..."

"Most of those who choose to live out here will have just enough for themselves," Saito interrupted. "Unless you happen to know differently?" The storm two days ago had been terrible, and the timing was right; if Kenshin had become as oddly protective of Tsuji Yamashita as Saito surmised, they would have done much more than just 'see' a cabin on the way past. No doubt the boy would have practically tugged on the hitokiri's sleeve and begged for a roof over his head.

As the silence stretched, Saito permitted himself an annoyed sigh. "What do you take me for, Battousai? I'm not going to be unkind to a couple of farmers just because they sheltered two idiots from a storm."

"I didn't say you would," he snapped.

"Of course you didn't."

Kenshin was glaring at him. Much better. Saito grinned lazily and merely sat there, arms resting on his knees as he waited for him to get over his affront and remember that neither of them had eaten in over a day.

Eventually, the hitokiri glanced down at his dangling hand and lifted it, displaying the two dead rabbits with a subdued look. "...I found food."

He didn't even try to keep the exasperation from his voice. "I noticed."

Kenshin blinked, and then had the grace to look vaguely sheepish. In as much as a killer could, Saito supposed. Yet again, he wondered exactly how old the redhead was. He stood up with a scowl, holding a hand out. "Give them to me. You're no good to anyone half-frozen. Warm up before your brain completely freezes, idiot."

He was rewarded with an insulted glare and merely smirked, plucking the rabbits from the hitokiri's numb and frozen fingers. Kenshin let go of them easily enough, watching him suspiciously as he stalked back to his place by the fire, digging through their store of wood for something small and thin enough to suit for cooking.

Finally, the redhead sat down, quiet for long moments before he finally spoke in a stiff voice. "Thank you."

Saito snorted in pure amusement. "Interesting sentiment. But don't bother. I'm just hungry."

He almost smiled at the predictable lack of response. Kenshin curled up like a cat, warming himself by the fire, flat gaze on Saito the entire time as he prepared the rabbits for roasting. It was almost as if the hitokiri suspected that if not watched, Saito would somehow manage to poison his portion of the meat. He didn't know whether to be amused or insulted.

After that, he didn't bother continuing the conversation. They ate, they slept.

By morning, it had begun to snow.

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I would like to say that I will never leave you waiting so long again, but I can't be sure. I'm about to embark on full time university and full time business running. However, I'm sure there will still be many nights where I can't sleep, so I can pad downstairs in the dark and type about these two men to my heart's content. I will certainly try to update much faster next time, however! And I will never abandon this story, no matter how long it takes.

Thank you for all reviews so far. They make me feel very happy.

And thanks to Calger and Bakabokken, both of whom helped me beta this chapter on its way. I hope it stands up to the others.

Next chapter: Paying a visit to a cabin for blankets seems to be a time honoured tradition in some stories ... what a pity there's none to be had. In which Kenshin and Saito find that they can agree on something after all.

See you … uh … soon!

:slinks off to her rock: