A/n: In this chapter, Yahiko yells at absolutely everyone. Poor kid.

"Sorry, Sano." Nishita shook his head. "I haven't heard anything about it."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, damn." Sano scratched the back of his neck. "This keeps up, I'm gonna have to start breaking heads," he said casually, hoping Nishita would get the message.

"N-no need for that!" Nishita's grin widened into a strained grimace. He waved his hands, slightly frantic. "I'm sure someone knows about the job! B-but I don't! You know I don't deal in wetwork."

Message received.

"That's true," Sano said, sticking his hands back in his pockets and slouching towards the door. "But you just spread the word, okay? I'm real interested in finding out who's givin' the little lady a hard time, and soon. I ain't got a lotta patience under the best of circumstances, so…"

"I got it, I got it!" Nishita wiped at his brow, smiling more earnestly now that Sano was on his way out of the store. "I'll make sure everyone knows, okay? Man, though, they must be friggin' amateurs, going after your girl like that…"

"Keep speculating about my personal life an' I might just forget how useful you've been," Sano said, keeping his voice as friendly as he could. He felt rather than saw Nishita flinch and grinned savagely as he stepped out into the street.

Then the grin faded as quickly as it had appeared. Fuckin' hell. As if scarin' a small operator like Nishita was anything to be proud of. But he hadn't been a lot to cheer him up in the past week: there hadn't been any more murders, which was great for property values but didn't do jack to clear Kenshin. The police were starting to lean on Kaoru. As days had passed without any more deaths, and she still refused to turn Kenshin over, they had started to make noises like they thought that maybe she was complicit, somehow. Hiruma's contact in the department was doing his best to make it the working theory, and not just a possibility.

Damn.

The rumor mill was churning, too. Public sentiment was slowly shifting against Kaoru: she was being selfish, the whispers went, refusing to hand over her mad slave because her pride had been offended by the police officer's actions. She was endangering the entire community because of a childish grudge. It was unconscionable. And so on. It wouldn't be long until someone got riled up enough to do something stupid.

Sano checked the sun and scowled, chewing thoughtfully on the fishbone in his mouth. It had been about two days since he'd left the signal for Shinomori, and that was about how long it usually took him to get a response out. Maybe it was worth wandering over there.

Besides, he'd run out of contacts.

There were about a dozen dead drops scattered around Edo that he knew about: he was certain that there were more, but they were probably used by those other cells he wasn't supposed to know existed. It wasn't that anyone lacked confidence in him or his abilities, but Edo was too damn big for one person to handle. Sano was pretty sure that his group was the keystone, though. Or maybe he was supposed to think that. He tried not to think about it, actually, because you needed a mind like a goddamn corkscrew to plan this shit and the headaches just weren't worth it.

He still wasn't sure why the captain had tapped him to lead instead of someone with a twistier psyche. But after watching Megumi and Shinomori plot for a few weeks, he'd started to think that maybe it'd been because he wasn't professionally paranoid. That the captain had chosen him because he wasn't a genius, and he knew that he wasn't: he would listen to the sneaky folk and make sure they had the time and space they needed to do their jobs instead of getting so far up his own ass that he could see daylight coming the other way. He could receive sensitive information without needing to speculate on it, and he was loyal to the cause for its own sake.

And he'd do whatever it took to protect his people. Which would have been more valuable to the captain than the ability to overthink a bowl of natto.

The dead drop he'd used this time was an abandoned shrine on the outskirts of what had been a fashionable neighborhood about ten years ago. There had been a fire, however, and the area had never really recovered. It wasn't exactly a slum, but it wasn't the kind of place that respectable people did more than pass through on their way to somewhere else. The shrine had been dedicated to the local guardian deity, who had apparently been asleep on the job when the fire swept through.

He'd left the signal for Shinomori wrapped around a branch of the old offering-tree; it was gone, so he'd at least gotten the message. But there wasn't anything wrapped in its place, so he either didn't have or hadn't yet acquired the information. Sano kicked a rock, for lack of anything more useful to do, and turned to leave.

Shinomori was standing under the shrine gate.

"Sagara."

"Aoshi."

Shinomori nodded as he approached, his cold eyes looking right through Sano. It had annoyed the hell out of him, at first, until he'd realized that Shinomori wasn't trying to talk down to him. He was just naturally icy. But it still got under Sano's skin a little, so he'd started using Shinomori's first name as if they were old friends. If Shinomori cared, he'd never shown it.

"You got what I asked for?"

"No." He stopped as he said it, well out of Sano's range. Sano eyed him warily; Shinomori was a competent enough fighter to be doing it deliberately.

"No like you haven't gotten it yet or no like you ain't gonna be able to get it, period?"

"The latter." Shinomori's voice was even and calm, but he drew back a little bit, bracing himself. Sano sneered, as angry about the spy's apparent belief that he couldn't control himself as the news he'd just been given. Sometimes you didn't get what you were after. It happened. You found another way. Maybe Shinomori wanted them to believe he was a god, but Sano knew for a damn fact that he bled the same as anyone.

"You mind if I ask why?" he asked, careful not to clench his fists.

"I cannot justify the expenditure of my resources." There was nothing in Shinomori's face, now, not even the professional caution that had been there a minute ago.

It took Sano a minute to parse the sentence. Then his fists did clench, as black fury – hey there, buddy, long time no see – rose out of the pit under his heart.

"What you mean," Sano said, very carefully, because it was important to get this right, "is that you can, but you ain't gonna."

"Correct."

Impulse became action and Sano launched himself at Shinomori, snarling. It was stupid; he knew it was stupid as soon as he did it. He was just past caring, because Kaoru was in danger and Kaoru was a slaveowner and the little life he'd managed to carve out for himself beyond the struggle had gone all to shit and he had nothing left to remind him that there would be an after-the-war.

Shinomori stepped aside, batting at Sano's extended fist. Sano was expecting it: he ducked the counter and spun on his heel, bringing his knee up for a kick. But Shinomori was gone. He'd retreated instead of engaging, sliding a good few yards down the path, and held up his hands in the most conciliatory gesture Sano had ever seen from the cold-blooded bastard.

"Sagara," he said, calm as ever, but there might have been a hint of compassion buried behind his eyes. "This is foolish."

"So we're supposed to do fucking what, exactly? Sit around with our thumbs up our ass and let the missy deal with it?" Sano cracked his knuckles, advancing. Shinomori held his ground. "Cause if nothing else, a paranoid fuck like you oughta know that if she goes down, she'll take the rest of us down with her no matter how hard she tries not to."

"No." Shinomori fell into an easy fighting stance, and Sano grinned savagely. So he was only willing to let the first attack go. Good. The man had some fucking pride after all. "Sagara. I do not suggest that you leave Miss Kamiya unprotected."

"Then what are you suggesting?" Sano held his stance, but he held his position, too. Because as much as the rage was screaming for sweat and struggle and blood on the pavement, for something simple and easy and clean –

– he was the leader. He had a job to do. The captain had trusted him, and he wouldn't betray that trust.

Deep breath.

He let his hands fall to his side.

"Talk," he ground out, barely conscious of the world outside the blood pounding in his ears.

"Kihei Hiruma desires the manslayer, does he not?" Shinomori seemed to shrug, almost. "Let him have what he wants."

Sano stared for a second, gaping. It was simple – simple and brutal and perfectly rational, and it hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Missy'll never stand for it," he said automatically.

"It is no longer her decision to make." Shinomori relaxed, insofar as the man ever relaxed, and his hand stopped hovering near his shortsword. "She is not the only person involved in this, Sagara. Will you jeopardize everything for one girl's foolish ideals?"

There was the strangest light in his eyes: flickering like fire but cold as winter. Sano looked away.

He could. If there was any situation that called for invoking his authority, it was this one. If Hiruma stepped up his game, there was every chance that he'd uncover the cell. Operational security had to be maintained, at any cost – there was too much at stake. The potential payoff of Kaoru's project was what, exactly? One maybe rehabilitated slave, who may one day be able to function as a normal human being? How did that benefit the cause? How did that help plan for the coming storm?

It didn't. One potential, future fighter, weighed against the entire Edo operation… there was no contest.

Sano knew the equations. He knew the answer that the leader of the revolutionaries in Edo had to give. And he knew what he believed: he knew the answer that Sanosuke Sagara carried burning in him like a brand.

"Difficult decisions must be made in times of war," Shinomori said, softly. "She will come to understand this."

No, Sano wanted to say, she won't. Except he thought maybe she would: there had been a sheen in her eyes like the light on a blade lately, like something hard and relentless was revealing itself inside her. She'd mourn and she'd rage and she'd hate him for making the call. A month ago, he'd have known that she'd never forgive him for it. But now…

Now, she might understand. Because she'd had to make her own hard choices.

And that – that she had come to this point, after he'd tried so damn hard to keep her out of it – made him want to turn the manslayer over just for spite. Which made him want to puke and hit something. Or possibly himself. For being the pettiest fucking asshole this side of China.

That didn't mean that turning Kenshin over wasn't the best decision. Shinomori wouldn't have suggested it if it wasn't. Could he justify refusing just 'cause he was worried about looking like a petty asshole?

Sano turned his head and spat, trying to get the bad taste out of his mouth. Shinomori didn't say anything, just stood and watched. Sano looked at him, then at the sky, then at the ground, hoping to see something written there. Hoping for time, and wisdom that he didn't have. Hoping against hope that he'd see the captain walking towards him, with that small smile and calm air, the way Sano tried to remember him; hoping that he'd come and take this decision away.

He didn't find anything. The captain was dead, and staying that way.

With a snarl, he spun around and started to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

"To fucking think about it!" he spat over his shoulder, and left.

He'd lied.

About five hours, two brawls, a jug of sake and more money lost than he actually had to hand later, that was the one thing he couldn't get out of his head. He'd told Shinomori: I'm going to think about it and he hadn't thought about it at all. He'd thrown himself headlong into a bright whirl, like a goddamn coward, and no wonder the fox-lady thought he was scum. Every time things got tough he ran for the hills.

He was aware, dimly, that he'd reached the maudlin self-loathing stage of the proceedings, and that if he didn't find a fight soon he was going to end up bawling in a corner.

Good thing he only drank where he was sure to find a fight.

Oh, look: here one came now, in the form of a very foolish young samurai with a fresh-shaved topknot and a sword he'd probably gotten from his daddy that very morning. Excellent. Sano pushed his jug to one side as the pup swaggered over, one hand on his sword hilt. He was a skinny little bastard, and still had traces of adolescent acne.

"Are you Sanosuke Sagara?" the pup demanded, voice breaking on the last syllable.

"Depends." Sano considered the kid, noting his resemblance to an inbred terrier, and decided that he would do quite nicely. No challenge in and of himself, of course, but if he couldn't goad the idiot into starting a full-on tavern brawl then he really was getting old. "Who's askin'?"

"I am." The boy smirked and hooked an ankle around the stool, pulling it out and sitting down with his elbows propped on the table.

"I don't recall invitin' you to sit, kid."

"I have information about the murders outside your woman's dojo."

Sano caught himself just before he rolled his eyes. That particular rumor really had some legs to it; he didn't mind it, exactly, since it kept Yahiko and the missy safe from most of the criminal elements, but he dreaded the day it got back to Kaoru.

"That so?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Now how is it that some pretty-boy samurai whose balls just dropped knows somethin' no one's heard dick about?"

"Because they're not my father's son." The boy's eyes were cold, and he spat the sentence like a curse. "My father owes a gambling debt to a certain individual. In payment for that debt, he allows that man's brother and his filthy followers to defile a training hall which was once part of my family's estate. I can bring you there, for a price."

"And what price would that be?" Sano leaned forward despite himself, the sake wearing away at his ability to control his excitement. It was the only lead he'd had all week. And if it was legit, he wouldn't have to make the choice at all…

"A favor." The boy met his eyes squarely, and Sano grudgingly gave him a single point for effort. "I may have need of your services in the future."

"Sounds like you're getting' them now." Sano forced himself to lean back and lace his hands behind his head. "Defile's a pretty strong word. Seems to me that if you could get those folks out on your own, you would'a done it already."

The boy flushed and looked away. Sano chuckled, feeling suddenly generous; maybe it was the resemblance to Yahiko in the pup's profile.

"Look," he said. "You're new at this, an' I'm in a good mood right now, so I'll cut you a break. You take me to this training hall 'a yours, and dependin' on what we find there, we'll negotiate. If nothing else, kid," he added when the boy seemed to balk, "I'll remember your face as a useful kinda guy. My opinion's worth a fair bit 'round here."

"Fine," the boy grated out from between clenched teeth. "Come with me, Sagara."

The training hall he was talking about was situated on the very outskirts of Edo, in a patch of forest that bore the hallmarks of cultivated land left to run wild. Trees still bore echoes of the elegant shapes they'd been pruned and wired to grow in, and there were flowers putting forth blooms that didn't grow outside of gardens. It was getting dark by the time they arrived, and their shadows stretched long and mingled in front of them.

There wasn't anyone there. There were signs that people did come there – cracked pipes and struck matches abandoned in the weeds, footprints, a half-dozen demolished training dummies and a certain odor, of blood and sweat and stale alcohol. Sano told the kid to stay put and went inside the hall proper.

No one had trained here for a long time. There were some cushions, and dice for gambling; a corner full of weapons and gear; and a long, low table covered in paper. He went for the paperwork and his heart stopped.

In the center of the table, in a cleared space, was a map of Kaoru's neighborhood with a dagger through her home and a note – a single word.

Tonight.

Dinner was quiet. Dinner had been quiet for the past week, ever since the police had come and tried to take Kenshin away. Neither Kaoru nor Yahiko had anything to say.

Kaoru knew that she should say something to her student. He'd been attacked, which was nothing in and of itself, but he'd been attacked and not seen it coming, not been able to stop it. Had his home invaded and had to rely on someone else to defend it. It rankled in him; she could see the frustration building up behind his eyes. He was pushing himself even harder than usual, to the point where it was doing more harm than good, and Tae had confided in her today that she'd found Tsubame crying after she and Yahiko had quarreled over something trivial.

She sighed heavily.

"What?" he asked, not looking up.

It's nothing, she started to say, and changed her mind.

"Tae tells me you got into a fight with Tsubame yesterday," she said mildly. His grip on his chopsticks tightened.

"So what?"

"Well, Tsubame seemed pretty upset…"

"Should I care?" he said abruptly, sneering. "She's just a girl. It's not like she understands anything."

"I thought she was your friend."

He put his rice bowl down with a decisive thump.

"Well, you thought wrong. She's just someone I know. That's all."

"I see." Kaoru took a sip of her soup, trying not to taste it. She'd added too much miso – or, well, she thought that was what was wrong, maybe there wasn't enough stock – anyway, the end result had somehow ended up spicy enough to burn and at the same time, completely tasteless.

"What did you fight about?" she asked, grimacing as she swallowed.

"Nothing." Yahiko chewed ferociously on the piece of fish. "She's stupid, that's all."

"Yahiko…"

"What?"

Kaoru closed her eyes, giving up on dinner. She wasn't that hungry, anyway, and this needed to happen. Something had to break the tension inside him, and it wouldn't be the first time she'd deliberately made herself his target to get out whatever poison was building inside him.

"I know you're upset about what's happening," she said, fixing Yahiko with her firmest teacher's look, "but that's no reason to be cruel to Tsubame. You need to apologize to her."

"No." He folded his arms over his chest, glaring at her.

"Yahiko."

"Make me."

"Yahiko." She slammed her hand flat against the wooden table, snapping his name like a battle cry, and he jumped a good half a foot in the air. "That is enough. There is no excuse for how you treated Tsubame and you will make things right with her!"

"Why should I?" He was suddenly on his feet, red-faced, clenching his fists, and the veins in his neck were straining. "What's the point? What's the point of your stupid school, anyway? What's the point of being strong when it doesn't stop bad things from happening?"

Yahiko's voice broke. Kaoru sat back, staring at her student as his chest heaved with the effort of controlling himself. Tears of rage formed in the corners of his eyes.

He threw out one arm, gesturing violently in the general direction of the storehouse. "You didn't see him, Kaoru. He's the best fighter I've ever seen! He's better than you, he might even be better than Sano!" His voice was hoarse. "And look at him – look what happened to him! So why should I bother being strong, why should I go through all this bullshit with protecting people and helping them when that's not enough? Might as well give up, right? I mean – "

He fell on one knee, suddenly, slamming his fist into the floor with an incoherent cry.

"…if it's never gonna be enough, no matter how strong I get…"

And then he couldn't speak anymore. He was breathing hard, sucking in long gasps of air, holding them tight and panting them out again. Kaoru stood.

"…Yahiko."

He flinched away from her as she knelt back down next to him, but that was the only resistance he offered as she pulled him into a tight hug.

She'd been cruel to him. To all of them, really, but especially to him. He needed safety so badly; needed to know that tomorrow would be like today, and that today had been like yesterday. He'd spent most of his life never knowing where his next meal would come from or who he could trust, and it didn't matter how much he knew that things would never get that bad again. Not when the police came with knives and broke down his door.

Yahiko wasn't frustrated; he was terrified. And it was a mark of how badly frightened he was that he wasn't protesting at the top of his lungs over being held close. Instead he only curled up more tightly.

He was always so full of himself, it was easy to forget that he was still just a child.

Eventually he shoved away and she let him go. He knelt in front of her with his hands fisted on his knees, shaking.

"…I think I kind of hate him, a little," he said finally. "If he hadn't come here, none of this would have happened. If you hadn't found him…"

Kaoru's heart froze in her chest.

"I'm sorry," she offered, lowering her eyes. "I don't know what else to say."

He sniffed one last time and got up.

"Yeah, I know. Uh. I should take dinner out there, shouldn't I?"

"You don't have to," she said, heart aching. "He's my responsibility."

"It's not his fault." Yahiko scuffed at the ground. "I know it's not. But – I don't have anyone else to blame, you know?"

Blame me, she wanted to say, but couldn't quite make the words come out. Blame me, because this was all her fault – she'd just charged ahead, without thinking, let her rage carry her over the cliff and now everyone else was falling with her. She was supposed to be the one protecting them. Making sure that they had a home where they were safe. Giving, never taking; and she was asking so much of them…

What else could she have done, though? When Kenshin's eyes had widened and fixed on her like a compass on the north star… how could she have turned away from someone who needed her so badly?

Yahiko gathered up a tray, quiet, and then turned to leave.

"Yahiko."

He stopped.

"Wait." Kaoru took a deep breath, not knowing what she was going to say but feeling the words in her throat, the dim shape of them like a mountain on the far horizon. "It's not… being strong isn't… you're right." She swallowed. "Just being strong isn't enough. There's more to it than that – it's not just fighting. It's – it's…"

She closed her eyes for a moment.

"It's not as simple as just fighting."

It felt almost right: like she'd put the best words she could around it because she didn't know the right ones, not yet. Yahiko nodded.

"Yeah," he said, a little ruefully. "I figured as much. I just – I think, like, I don't want it to be. You know?"

"I know." She exhaled again, too strong to be just a sigh. "And I'm sorry, Yahiko, I really am."

He shrugged, standing in the doorway and silhouetted against the dying light, and looked for a moment like the man he was going to become.

"It can't be helped, right?"

And then he left. Kaoru began to put the dishes away. Neither of them had eaten much. And she'd barely been sleeping; she kept waking up in the dark, heart racing, looking around for the source of the disturbance and finding nothing. Because it wasn't a presence, it was an absence. Kenshin was part of her life, now, and having him not there felt like – like reaching for teakettle you think is full, and finding that it's empty. Or searching for something small and important and not finding it no matter how hard you looked.

Except that she knew exactly where he was. She made sure to stop and check on him every time she crossed the yard; she went to see him even if she had no reason and he was never any different. Kneeling in the center of the floor, answering any direct query but otherwise silent. There had been no repeat of the first night, when he'd almost touched her through the bars and he'd been close enough for her to feel his heat.

It wasn't only guilt at locking him away. It wasn't only her duty as the sole heir to the Kamiya Kasshin, to the sword that protects. It was that…

It was that Kenshin was hers.

She thought it quietly, in the hopes that the gods wouldn't hear. But she couldn't not feel it: when she'd come home to find the police trying to take him there had been a split second of instinctive, possessive rage that someone had dared lay a hand on him.

Kaoru shuddered, nearly convulsing, and almost dropped the plates. She shouldn't feel that way, shouldn't… she should only be outraged because he was a person in trouble, a person being treated unfairly. She had no right to feel – the way she felt when someone threatened Yahiko only darker, because Yahiko could at least fight back and Kenshin couldn't. Kenshin had no choice. If she didn't protect him, no one would; if she hadn't claimed him, anyone would have been able to pick him up and hurt him…

She dumped the dishes in the sink with enough force that one of them cracked. Scoffing at herself, she threw it out.

"Excuses, excuses," she muttered, and got to scrubbing.

The lantern inside the storage shed cast a low, steady light outwards, split by the shadows of the bars in the doors. Yahiko hesitated at the bottom of the steps, biting his lip. He felt hollowed-out and shaky, uncertain of his footing.

"Hey, Kenshin," he called out, voice wavering. "I brought dinner."

He set the tray down for a second to open the hatch. Kenshin was already standing by the door; from Yahiko's low angle, he could only see the cloth of his shirt. There were a few tricky moments as he lifted the tray through but it worked out fine in the end, with no spills. He heard the quiet thud of the tray being set on the floor, and then Kenshin passed the old one back through.

"Thanks," Yahiko muttered, and started to walk away.

Then he stopped.

"Kenshin."

His heart was loud, pounding rabbit-fast in his throat, and he wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say. Except that – that he wasn't done, dammit, he couldn't possibly have kept going after Kaoru – after the way she'd reacted, but there was still this oily dark thing curled up in his gut that needed to be spat out. And it was Kenshin's fault, at least a little bit.

"Yes, young master?"

"You know," he said, breath coming sharp and hard again, knowing that he was being cruel and too tangled up to care, "Do you know? How much trouble you're causing for us?"

Kenshin didn't respond, not with words. But there was a sense of withdrawal, of a wounded animal searching for ground to go to, and Yahiko couldn't stop a snarl from escaping.

"Don't run away, dammit!" he snapped, and spun around the face the storehouse. He was far enough away now that he could see Kenshin framed in the barred windows, bangs falling forward to hide his eyes. "This is your fault, you know! All this is happening because – because she's never gonna give up on you now, 'cause she made you a promise, and she'll keep it even if it kills her. Do you understand that? Can you? Do you care about anything that's happened? About what's happening to her?"

He kicked the step, hard, because it was that or stomp his foot and he was being enough of a child for today.

"I don't get you!" he cried. "Do you got any idea how much she's putting on the line for you? And you just sit there, not doing anything – and Magumi and Kaoru say it's not your fault but I don't buy it, alright? I think you know, you just don't wanna. Like you're scared or something. Well, if you haven't figured out by now that all she wants to do is help then you're never gonna, so you should do us all a favor and leave if you're not going to try to meet her halfway a little, okay? Because the only reason any of this is happening is 'cause she wants to protect you!"

Yahiko glared up at him, fists clenched tight, and his nails dug into the skin of his palms. Kenshin stared back, eyes wide and pale through his bangs, looking like he'd just been slapped. Like Tsubame had, when he'd exploded at her; that same shocky, trembling look of a person who justdoesn't understand and never will because they've never felt that way; because asking them too was like asking a blind man to describe the color blue…

All of the anger suddenly ran out of his bones.

"Just… she's really trying, okay?" he muttered, looking away as his face flushed with shame. "I mean, I don't – I get it. I get what happened to you. I know I shouldn't blame you for it, but… I don't like it, okay? I don't like that she's doing so much for you when you're probably never gonna be able to give anything back. Not anything that counts, anyway."

He shook his head and started to turn around to leave. There was a low chuckle behind him. Yahiko froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

"I wouldn't," a deep voice drawled, rich with amusement. "We can't afford to have witnesses, after all. It'd be a shame if you got a good look at our faces when you have your whole life ahead of you."

"Hey," said a second voice, nasal and cackling. "Isn't he that girl's little brother or something? You think she might cooperate if we demonstrated the consequences on him, first?"

Yahiko closed his eyes, ignoring the threat, and tried to figure out how many there were. He could feel them standing behind him – two? Maybe three? – and he hadn't even heard them, he'd been so busy yelling.

He didn't even have his practice sword.

"Hmm. You've got a point." Deep-voice, again. "Sorry, kid. If you hold still, it'll be over soon."

A meaty hand landed on his shoulder.

"Get fucked," Yahiko growled, and bit down on it. Warm copper burst across his tongue and the man attacking him howled, loosening his grip. Yahiko lunged forward and slammed his shoulder into his attacker's gut; he stumbled backward, and Yahiko ran for it. There were too many – and he had to warn Kaoru –

There were three of them: one short, squat fellow, clutching his hand; one rail-thin and grinning; and the last one heavily muscled. All of them had blades. Skinny stuck out his sheathed sword and tripped him. Yahiko rolled with the fall, grabbing a handful of dirt, and flung it up towards Muscle's face. He coughed, batting at the particles, and Yahiko tried to break right, away from Fatso. But Skinny had moved to block him and he found himself boxed in, with nowhere to go except back up the stairs to the storehouse.

"So much for the easy way," Skinny leered, unsheathing his sword and licking along the blade. "Well, at least we'll get to have some fun."

Yahiko crouched, wild fear building inside him. His heart hammered loud in his chest and he bared his teeth.

No. Not his heart. Too loud for that.

The storehouse door. As if someone was throwing themselves against it, methodically, trying to force it open. Yahiko looked over his shoulder, eyes wide, in time to hear wood crack and see the door burst apart as Kenshin launched himself at the attackers.

Kaoru finished the dishes in record time, scrubbing them until her hands were raw. They'd never been so clean; she'd never felt so filthy. She ran her fingers ruefully over the chapped back of one hand, shaking her head. Well. There was no helping it.

She'd do a few kata before bed, tonight. Maybe it would help her sleep.

Her room was one the way to the training hall and she decided to walk outside, instead of through the halls. It was a wonderful night, with a charge in the air that spoke of a coming storm. Rain would be welcome; a storm even more so. The sound might lull her to sleep; and even if it didn't, at least she'd be able to watch it as she stayed up.

And then she thought of Kenshin, alone in the storehouse. Was the roof still sound? She thought so… what if he didn't like storms? What if…?

Kaoru shook her head and paused, torn between her room and practice clothes and going to check on Kenshin. She decided on Kenshin, first; check on him, make sure the storehouse roof wasn't going to leak, and then train.

She had just passed the bathhouse, absorbed in her thoughts, when she realized that she wasn't the only one breathing in the shadows and froze.

"Who's there?"

A figure emerged from the shadows: a monster of a man, flanked by half a dozen others, all armed with blades and leering at her. Kaoru took a step back, thinking over the distance between her current position and the training hall – just far enough to be dangerous – and cast her senses out, hoping she could detect anyone standing between her and the hall. There didn't seem to be; it seemed that they were relying on a show of force, not their wits.

Kihei stepped out from the giant's wake. A silent snarl wrenched itself from her throat.

"I do apologize for the interruption, Miss Kamiya," he smarmed. "I had hoped to do this through legal means, but you did insist on being stubborn. You brought this on yourself, you know."

Kaoru didn't wait around for the festivities to start. She bolted for the training hall, the giant and his thugs hot on her heels. She had just enough time to grab a wooden sword from the rack before they caught up with her. The giant advanced; the thugs hung back, block the exits.

"So…" he sneered. "You're the little girl who's been giving my brother so much trouble. Not much to look at, are you?"

She brought to sword down in front of her in a ready stance, keeping her gaze level even as her heart tried to hammer its way out of her chest.

"Why don't you come and find out?"

He grinned, yellowed teeth flashing in the dim light.

"Don't mind if I do."

He charged. She stepped neatly to one side, striking at his wrist; the hit was clean, but he was wearing gauntlets under his sleeves and she only cracked the armor. He recovered quickly and slashed at her side; she spun away just in time, feeling the tip of his blade catch and tear through the side of her kimono. Kaoru thrust at his kidneys and hit a rib instead. The bone gave way with a crack, and he roared with laughter.

"I suppose I have to take you seriously now!"

He raised his blade and struck down at her head; she blocked it, barely, but her wooden sword splintered uselessly in her hands. She stared at the remains for a moment – a moment more than she could afford – and the giant grabbed her with one hand by the front of her kimono and lifted her straight off the ground. Kaoru kicked out, clawing at his hands, but his arm was too long and her legs were too short to hit him.

"Well, that was more interesting than I thought it would be," he said, smug with triumph. "But something tells me that you haven't learned your lesson yet, have you, little girl?"

"Go… to hell…" she choked out, vision dimming. "Won't… get away with it…"

The giant just laughed, and she had never felt this helpless before. He turned to face his thugs, holding her up like a prize, displaying her like the enemy's captured flag.

"Well? Who here wants the first taste?"

Outside, the storm broke.

Kenshin hit the three men like a tsunami. They were armed and he wasn't, but that didn't seem to matter one bit; he sent Fatso flying ass-over-teakettle with a careless toss and slammed the blade of his hand into Muscle's neck in the same movement. The blow became a grab, and suddenly Muscle was on the ground, clutching his throat and coughing.

Skinny had time to draw his sword and try to strike. Kenshin caught his wrist and twisted him off his feet, slamming him into the ground. Then the man's sword was in Kenshin's hand.

Yahiko scrambled back reflexively as Kenshin turned to him, the blade gleaming in the lantern light pouring from the storehouse doors. The three men were either unconscious or smart enough to stay down. Kenshin stared down at Yahiko, eyes not dull. Not dull at all.

"Kaoru," Yahiko said, forcing himself onto shaking feet. "Have to warn – "

But Kenshin was already flying across the yard, sword in hand. Yahiko followed as fast as he could, leaving the three thugs to their own devices. The sky opened up with a peal of thunder as the long-promised storm poured down, turning the ground to splattered mud.

Kaoru was blacking out. That was probably a mercy. The giant still had her hoisted in his hand for now, but the thugs were gathering around her with leers that had nothing to do with bloodlust. Despite it all, her lungs still gasped for air; the reflex to breathe was too strong and there was just enough slack in the giant's grip to prevent her from passing out.

He looked up at her, smirking, and she realized that he was doing it on purpose. To keep her from doing anything but breathing.

"Now, now, no pushing," he said, almost jovially. "Wait your turn. There's plenty to go around."

He began to lower her to the floor, and all hell broke loose. The men closest to the doors screamed; the screams were cut short and they went flying in a flurry of bodies and blood spattering against the wood. There was a flash of lightning and she saw flame-red hair slithering through the mob, leaving devastation in its wake. In the space between the lightning and the thunder the thugs were all tossed against walls or thrown to the floor, and the next flash revealed only Kenshin standing in the center of the training hall, blood dripping off his sword.

No… she had time to think, and then the giant threw her aside. The impact of the wall on her back knocked the breath from her and she slid to the ground, coughing.

"Well…" the giant rumbled. "So much for obsolete!"

He charged, raising his sword above his head and Kenshin was suddenly gone. Kaoru forced her head up in time to see the giant's eyes raise towards the ceiling: in time to see Kenshin falling towards him like a meteor and she wanted to turn away from the spray of blood and brains that she knew would follow but she would not –

The sword hit and the giant fell, skull still intact. No blood.

...what?

Kaoru lay stunned as Kenshin walked over to her, sword still loose in his hand. She squinted at it, barely able to make it out in the dim light and her own dizziness.

…the blunt side… he reversed the blade…

He looked down on her, eyes bright with something beyond rage or pain or fear: this is was not the frightened, unresponsive man she'd known. This was someone – someone who was no longer human. Emotionless and feral. The manslayer. Kanryu's manslayer.

The sword rose, almost threatening her. She stared into his eyes, trying to understand.

"…Kenshin…"

His grip on the sword tightened and he took a step forward. Was he trying to kill her? Why? Had she –

And then she closed her eyes, because what did it matter anyway?

"…thank you," she said, and sighed.

Yahiko stumbled through the rain, legs shaking. Kenshin had outpaced him entirely. He heard shouts and muffled screams coming from the training hall and shoved a hank of hair from his face just in time to see the fat creep – Kihei – stumbled off the training hall porch.

Sano had a saying: there's a time to think and a time to act, and they're never the same time.

Yahiko flung himself at Kihei. There was no grace or discipline in the attack; it was pure dirty street fighting. He gouged and bit and kicked Kihei down to his knees, and then he did it some more, until he was damn sure that the little freak wasn't getting up again without a doctor's help.

When he finally had the fat creep lying facedown in the mud and moaning, he took a long look at his handiwork, at the bites and scratches and purpling bruises. There was a taste of blood in his mouth.

Then he threw up.

A thud, a clatter of steel on wood and her eyes flew open. The sword was lying a few feet away, still dripping blood, and Kenshin had fallen to one knee before her, head bowed.

"Mistress. Permit this worthless one to assist you."

"I…" Her eyes closed again, involuntarily. "No… Yahiko. Is Yahiko…?"

"The young master is safe," he said flatly.

"I need to see him." She forced herself up on her hands. "Where's Yahiko?"

Kenshin was at her side, then, easing her up. His hands were very warm.

"Yahiko!" she called. "Yahiko, where are you!"

"'m here." He stumbled into the hall, wiping his mouth. "Got the other bastard…"

"What?"

"Kihei. Got 'im."

The rain thrummed on the roof; the scent of blood and fear enveloped her and she shuddered, heat prickling under her eyelids. She tilted her head back to keep the tears inside.

"We have to get the police – no. Megumi. She'll know – I can't think right now, I'm sorry."

"I'll get her," Yahiko said, kneeling at Kaoru's side. Kenshin glanced at him for a moment, then looked away.

"But…"

"I'm not hurt, and I'm not a suspected killer," Yahiko pointed out, face pale. His hands were shaking. "Please – let me do this."

"…Yahiko." She grabbed her student's hand. "Be careful."

"Always," he said. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, looking at Kenshin. Some silent communication seemed to pass between them. Then he took off running.

"Kenshin… could you help me up, please?"

He slid his arms around her and picked her up. She considered protesting; then she gave up and let him carry her out of the hall and into the rain. It beat down in almost a solid mass, soaking her through to the skin in the short time it took to walk from the training hall to the covered porch. By the time they made it inside she was shivering, and not only from cold; she couldn't seem to stop seeing the men clustered around her, reaching for her like starving dogs for a bone.

A hot tear ran down her face and she wiped at it.

"Kenshin, put me down – I need to get out of these clothes before I catch cold." Keeping her voice even took almost more effort than she had to spare. He set her down gently and stood back. She took a few steps and then her knees buckled under her.

He knelt at her side again, hands warm on her elbow and the small of her back.

"Mistress."

"Don't," she said, and the tears were flowing freely now. It was all tangling together: the men and Kenshin and blood on her father's floor. "I – please. Just…"

He withdrew, leaving the room. Something small and terribly young inside her cried at the loss of human contact. She forced it away, because that wasn't the point – because she had no right to ask anything of him, even now, because he'd have to do it.

And then he came back. She looked up to see him carrying the blanket from her room; he draped it around her and tucked it under her chin, still blank-eyed and expressionless: but his hands were very gentle. Then he backed away and sat against a wall, one knee drawn up and the other folded underneath, watching her.

"Kenshin…"

She snuggled into the blanket despite herself.

"Thank you," she said again.

The night passed in a blur of calming tea and police uniforms and Megumi's voice snapping orders and invective. Sano arrived shortly before Megumi and folded her into a bear hug, shaking; she was glad to let him. Yahiko came back with Megumi and the terribly cowed police a little while later, and Sano pulled him into the hug before he could protest. Kenshin watched them from the across the room, and she was too tired to try and read his eyes.

He hadn't actually killed anyone. The thugs were badly injured, and several of them would never be able to hold a sword again: there were enough lost fingers to make two whole hands. But he hadn't killed. He'd kept to his orders and he hadn't killed.

The officer who'd delivered the news had looked slightly stunned as he'd said it.

Eventually, everything was sorted out: the Hiruma brothers were carted off, Megumi returned to the clinic after leaving Kaoru a packet of sedative tea and strict instructions for its use, and Sano told Kaoru and Yahiko to go to bed, because he'd stand guard for the rest of the night.

Kaoru had recovered enough by then to make it to bed on her own. Kenshin followed her, two steps behind and one to the left. She didn't protest when he failed to wait outside for her to change, mostly because she didn't plan to bother with changing into her sleep clothes. Instead she stumbled over to her mattress, still wrapped in the blanket, and collapsed in a curled heap.

Kenshin settled himself behind his screen, and she slept the whole night through.