The clearing was so small it barely classified as one. Tall strong trees ringed around the patch of thick green grass, stopping where a stream cut a path through the dark earth, tumbling and babbling over stones in its rocky bed. Just beyond the stream, lost out of sight among the trees was Rakuninmura. The water from this stream either ran around it or came out from somewhere underground, because it was clean and cold.

Though Kenji wasn't sure where it came from, he knew that if he followed it two miles or so, there was a garden hidden behind a thick cluster of trees. He knew who tended it and had actually planted a few things there, himself, every once in a while. He would need to go back once the seeds that he'd ordered came in. He'd promised he would and promises were very important there. More important than anywhere else.

Kenji sat up from where he'd been lying in the grass and leaned forward, digging his fingers into the cool earth. The watch shifted against his wrist, scraping softly against his skin. Thinking of promises. It was dusk now, or near enough. Darkness fell early in the forest. Fujita should be here soon. Kenji pulled the watch out of his sleeve and clicked it open, watching the elegant black bars inside the watch tick by. Fujita called them hands, but Kenji didn't think they looked anything like hands. Still it was such a pretty watch. He brushed his fingers lightly over the glass, then the smooth silver of the other side. Small grooves slid under the pads of his fingers. Kenji blinked and lifted his hand away from the watch, tilting it so the fading light touched it. There was kanji there, tucked along the bottom rim.

For my son.

Something pinched Kenji deep down, right between his gut and his heart, pulling at his stomach. He set his jaw and closed the watch, curling his fingers around it. The words echoed in his head as if someone had spoken them. For my son. For my son. His grip tightened, the sides of the watch digging against his skin. A wild urge raged through him to try to crush the watch in his bare hand, beat it with a rock, toss it into the stream where it would never be found again. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. A sharp feeling cut through him and Kenji set the watch on the ground before he really did throw it and instead clawed his fingers in the dirt once more. Fujita…Fujita was just like him! He thought like him, they did the same things, so why?

He would bet his life that if Fujita had worked really hard, and nearly broken his leg a few times, just to learn a technique, his father wouldn't criticize him for it. Fujita's father probably wouldn't accuse him of wanting to be a murderer, either. Father just didn't understand. Neither did Yahiko-ji, even though he should. Kenji had heard enough stories to know that if Father had forbidden Yahiko-ji to fight when he was younger, Yahiko-ji would have fought even harder, just to prove that he could. Father would have respected him for it, too, Kenji knew. Though it seemed that Father respected everyone in Japan to one degree or another. Well, everyone except Kenji. Maybe because he was going to be a murderer he didn't deserve it.

Kenji scowled, picked up a clod of earth and threw it hard toward the stream. The clod fell apart in midair and only a few small clumps managed to hit the water where they were carried away in an instant, as if they'd never been. Kenji grunted and leaned back on his hands. The anger that flared through him simmered into frustration that clenched low in his gut, but even that faded, leaving Kenji feeling strangely hollow. He stared at the stream without really seeing it. Maybe he was missing something. Maybe that was why Father didn't seem to like him lately. Maybe Yahiko-ji possessed something that Kenji didn't that made it okay for him to fight. Kenji sighed. Even if that was true, Father would never tell him what that quality was. Father never told him anything.

There was a rustle in the bushes. The small sharp snap of a twig. Whoever was coming didn't mind being heard. Kenji grabbed his shinai and jumped to his feet, whirling to face the trees. Even though he was fairly far out into the woods, that wouldn't stop drunken vagrants or petty thieves from stumbling on him. Instead of a criminal, however, the tall angled form of Fujita Tomu appeared at the edge of the trees. He narrowed his eyes as he saw Kenji, fingers reaching down to ghost along the hilt of the police saber that hung at his side.

"I didn't know you got a promotion," Kenji said dryly, dropping the shinai back to rest on his shoulder. "Or are they just handing out state issued sabers these days?"

"That's none of your business," Fujita said curtly, fishing a small tin case out of his pocket. He flicked the lid open revealing a neat row of cigarettes.

"Ha! I bet you borrowed it without asking," Kenji said, smirking as Fujita fumbled out a cigarette and nearly dropped the case. Though his body language seemed to prove Kenji right, Fujita's face remained calm. He clicked the case closed and shoved it back in his pocket.

"I bought the weapon because I assumed you would bring a blade as well. But I see you haven't." Fujita glared at him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you but I'm not going to go easy on you either. You had no right taking that watch."

The watch… Kenji glanced to where it was still lying on the grass and picked it up, feeling the weight of it on his palm. Some impulse made him press the button to open it and the falling light of the day caught the faint outlines of the kanji. For my son. Suddenly stealing the watch seemed like a stupid, childish thing to do. And even a stupider way to pick a fight.

"Don't you even think about breaking it," Fujita said in a hard voice. "Father gave that to me. Not that I expect you to understand the value."

"Oh come on," Kenji snapped. He didn't mean to be irritated but Fujita's words had stung deep, twisting hard into his gut. Lunging forward, he grabbed the older boy's hand, wrenched it around and slapped the watch into it. "Give me some credit, asshole."

With a scowl, Kenji marched past him, further into the woods. Damn that Fujita. How did he always know what to say to make things that much worse? Of course… Of course Kenji had said some pretty mean things too… To someone more important to him than anything. The sobering thought slowed his pace, twisted the anger into a heavy weight that pulled him down. He hadn't meant to say… Well, maybe he had but… If Father only understood. He'd worked so hard….

"Himura."

Kenji stopped at the sound of Fujita calling his name and tilted his head a little to acknowledge that he heard but didn't look back. Whatever Fujita had to say would probably be insulting and Kenji braced himself for it and waited. After a moment of no sound except a faint breeze, Kenji turned and gave the older boy a bland look. Fujita was staring off into the trees, absently holding the cigarette to his lips. He closed his eyes and took a long drag. The light at the end of the cigarette flared bright red. Kenji waited impatiently as Fujita pulled the cigarette away and blew out a long, thin stream of smoke before finally looking at him.

"I'm sorry," Fujita said. It was sudden and blunt and startled Kenji into silence, but the boy quickly recovered and sighed heavily, shifting his glance past Fujita to what he could see of the clearing and the stream.

"Me too," he said. Another silence then, peaceful in its own way. Fujita finished his cigarette and stubbed it out on a nearby tree before flicking it carelessly onto the ground.

"Don't do that," Kenji grumbled, glaring at the butt. "Have some respect for a sacred place, would you?"

Fujita raised his eyebrows as if he doubted the clearing was sacred at all, but he picked up the butt anyway and slipped it into his cigarette case. Kenji nodded in thanks. It wasn't much of a place, not really, but it was his.

"Why do you smoke anyway?" Kenji asked as Fujita shut the case and began walking toward him. Kenji fell in step as the older boy went past him and though they were side by side, Kenji had to take a stride more to keep it that way. Damn Fujita and his long legs. "It's not going to turn you into your father, you know."

"And wearing your hair like that isn't going to turn you into yours," Fujita said without missing a beat. Kenji flinched inwardly at the dig, but knew what Fujita said was true. He also knew, though, that Fujita wanted to be just like his father as well. It was why he worked so hard at everything and always seemed to be on duty. Even though he wasn't even a junior officer yet, Kenji could count the times on one hand when he'd seen him out of uniform. Kenji didn't know much about their relationship really. Fujita was quiet about his family life for the most part and the few times Kenji had seen Saitou, the man had done nothing but stare at him appraisingly with cold yellow eyes. However there was one thing that Kenji was sure of. Saitou accepted who Fujita was. Saitou was proud of him. Was proud to call him his son.

"I'm hungry," Fujita said. Kenji blinked and looked up. He could see bits of the city through the trees. There was a scratching sound followed by a soft pop and a sulfurous smell as Fujita lit a match. "Do you want to go somewhere?" Fujita asked, stopping so he could light his cigarette. Kenji stopped with him, thinking of the few places he knew. Mostly he just ate at the Akabeko or roadside stands. But the Akabeko was out of the question unless he wanted to be under Tsubame-obasan's worried gaze all night.

"As long as it isn't the Akabeko, I don't care," Kenji said with a shrug. Then he grinned. "We could go out for soba."

Fujita glared at him over the flame of the match. Then shook it out and took a draw on his cigarette.

"You know, the day was rather pleasant until you mentioned it," Fujita said, puffing out a big obnoxious cloud of smoke. "I'd gone so long without even thinking about it."

"Work must be keeping Saitou-san busy," Kenji said as they started walking again.

"He's away as it happens," Fujita said. "Taking Tsuyoshi on his Kyoto pilgrimage." Whether Fujita thought this was good or bad, Kenji couldn't tell. When Fujita talked about his family at all, his younger brother came up lesser still. Kenji had only seen him once and he'd been narrow eyed and sullen and threatening to tell their father that Fujita was being an idiot. All in all, he'd seemed like a typical younger sibling to Kenji.

"I honestly don't know how he stomachs the stuff day in and day out," Fujita muttered.

"Must be some sort of family defect," Kenji said lightly, absently plucking a leaf from a nearby tree and twirling it between his fingers.

"Shut up," Fujita said, but made no move to hit him.

The sun had set by the time they emerged from the forest. Twilight wrapped the world in a soft blue, and a soft lazy summer wind blew from ahead, bringing with it the smell of cooking food. The houses here were small and poor, but well cared for. A woman crouched outside her door, stirring something in a pot with a tiny fire flickering underneath it. A huddle of children around the twins' age ran back and forth along the narrow dusty road, chasing each other and squealing as they enjoyed the last remnants of light. A young boy in a patched blue yakuta ran apart from the others, closer to them. He was reaching up, trying to catch a firefly that danced and flickered just out of his reach. Kenji paused and flicked out his hand, gently catching the small insect. The boy came to a stop and looked up at him with wide brown eyes. Kenji smiled and crouched down to the boy's level, opening his hand to show the firefly crawling around on his palm.

"Thank you, oniisan!" the boy said, grabbing for it. Kenji closed his fingers a little, keeping the firefly from the boy's clumsy grasp. The boy frowned at him and Kenji smiled.

"You have to be careful with fireflies, that you do," he said softly. "They're easily squished."

"Oh," the boy said.

"Hold out your hands," Kenji told him. The boy obeyed and watched solemnly as Kenji tucked his hand next to the boy's and let the firefly crawl from his fingertips onto the boy's palm. The firefly lit up and so did the boy's face, his eyes widening in wonder. Shinta would have grinned…and then probably tackled his leg. Kenji smiled to himself and stood. He fully expected Fujita to have gone on without him, but when he turned he was mildly surprised to find the older boy waiting patiently for him.

"You really do have a decent side," Fujita said coolly as Kenji came beside him. "I'm amazed."

Kenji ignored him and they began to walk again, but at a slower pace. The city lit up as night fell. Warm light seemed to glow from every house and as they passed sometimes Kenji could catch a snatch of laughter or conversation. They turned a corner and houses and restaurants lined either side of the road, lit against the night. It was as if the city was welcoming them home. But it was home. There wasn't a street for miles that Kenji didn't know, from the broad avenues to the shady alleys. He'd been exploring the city since he was old enough to walk. His earliest memory was slipping away from Yahiko-ji's hand and walking in a forest of legs and kimono, looking at the far away faces of the adults and the buildings that towered above them.

"Those children should be inside by now," Fujita murmured.

"Hm?" Kenji glanced around, but there was no one on the street but them. "What children?"

Fujita waved his hand vaguely over his shoulder toward the place they had just come from. Kenji shrugged. It was still a bit early to be herded inside. Even though by now, it was mostly dark.

"What difference does it make?" he asked out of idle curiosity. Fujita said nothing for a moment, looking at the smoldering cigarette as if he'd never seen it before. Then he slowly shook his head and put the cigarette back between his lips, though he no longer seemed interested in it. Kenji watched him; Fujita's expression was closed and unreadable as he stared off into the distance. There was nothing interesting down the street except for shadows and the faint glow of lamplight. Kenji had the feeling that the older boy had turned inward.

"Fujita?" Kenji said. There was something obviously bothering him. Usually he told Kenji what in one way or another. This time, however, Fujita just looked at him…as if he was considering something.

"There," he said, pointing over Kenji's shoulder. Kenji turned and saw a small restaurant crammed between two darkened stores. It was so small; Kenji couldn't even see a name for it.

"What about it?"

"Let's eat there, moron," Fujita said lightly, dropping his cigarette on the ground and grinding it out with his foot. Kenji frowned. Though Fujita seemed to have gone back to his callous self, he was obviously keeping something from him. Something important.

Fujita's mood seemed to shift again as they took off their shoes and entered the little restaurant. Kenji almost immediately stepped back out again. The air was full and thick with smoke. He would have thought there was a fire if not for the fact that almost everyone in the place had a cigarette. There weren't even any kind of tables, just men and some women sitting on the floor, hunched around cards or clattering dice. The people closest to the door looked up from the card game they were playing.

"I'm not eating here," Kenji said, putting a sleeve up to his nose to try and block out the smell. The smoke stung his eyes and made them water. "I won't even be able to taste my food."

A few men close enough to hear chuckled and Kenji glared but that only seemed to improve their mood.

"You know how to use that, samurai boy?" asked one of the men, nodding to the shinai at Kenji's side. "Or can you just wave it around?"

"I can beat you with it, old man," Kenji snapped. The man's face darkened and he began to slowly reach into his sleeve.

"I'm not sure the proprietor would like it if you pulled a knife in here again, Muto," Fujita said mildly. "Especially since you were goaded into it by a kid."

Kid? What the hell was Fujita playing at? Kenji glared up at him and Fujita gave him a warning look. Kenji snorted and folded his arms. Maybe this had something to do with what Fujita wouldn't tell him earlier. Fine. He would play along for now. But it better be worth it.

"Someone should teach that kid some manners," the one named Muto grumbled. He spread the cards that he was holding and hunched over, picking idly at his long scabbed foot. "What do you want here, officer?"

"I want to see Hamachi."

"You and everyone else." The man paused as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled it almost all the way down. "Back of the room," Muto said around it. "But she's in a foul mood so you'd better watch it."

Kenji scowled at the men one last time before following close behind Fujita through the crowded place. This was no restaurant like he'd ever seen. It must be a gambling hall of some sort. What sort of business could Fujita have here, he wondered? As far as he knew, Fujita didn't gamble. That was illegal wasn't it? They came to the back of the room and into a little alcove hidden by a curtain. A crabbed old woman was sitting there, smoking on a pipe and watching a group of men play a dice game intently.

"Hamachi-san?" Fujita said when the old woman didn't say anything. She took a long draw from her pipe, then blew out so the smoke curled along the stem.

"You know I don't like dealing this way, boy." She looked up at him finally, her gaze sharp. "And I especially don't like dealing with you." Her eyes slid to Kenji but she looked away before he could speak. Kenji frowned, not liking to be dismissed so easily. What, did she think he was young? Some little kid who'd wandered in after his big brother.

"I realize that," Fujita said. "But--"

"Fact is," said the old woman leaning back and glancing once more at the dice game. "You owe me a debt. A debt I still haven't seen returned. That's not very polite at all."

"We're…we're working on it," said Fujita.

"So is the government's answer to everything." She tapped out the pipe and leaned back against the wall. "Well I have no news for you," she said, folding her hands on her lap. They were pale and crabbed, standing out against the red of her kimono. Kenji noticed a long thin scar trailing across her neck. Someone must have cut her deep there a long time ago.

"Please, Hamachi-san, once Father returns he can arrange things," Fujita said, kneeling to her level. Any more and Kenji thought he was going to bow. "And even more than we promised."

"Oh ho," said the old woman, giving him a bland look. "But can you really promise that, I wonder?"

Fujita was silent and Kenji watched him clench at his pant legs as he sought for the words. Kenji would like to help. Even though Fujita was a bastard at times, they stood with each other against bad guys like this. And he was fairly certain this woman was a bad guy. She seemed to have a certain sense about her. Like the edge of a blade just barely sheathed. Kenji rested his fingers on the hilt of the shinai, tapping them impatiently as Fujita just kneeled there and the men went on gambling and the old woman closed her eyes, as if she'd fallen asleep. Well this was ridiculous. Just stepping in, though, was liable to make him look stupid so Kenji hung back by the doorway and thought about it.

The woman obviously had some information Fujita wanted. That would be the only thing Fujita would want to get from her in order to involve his father in it. The fact that Fujita still hadn't said anything meant that he was thinking it over carefully, probably desperately. Which, for one, would take a while and for another probably meant that whatever it was, was very important to him. Maybe he could say something. He wanted to snap at the both of them but that would only just get them mad. Adults were so stupid sometimes. There was one way to approach it though, just so he wouldn't be standing here being slowly suffocated by all the smoke.

"I'm sure that Fujita's cause is just," Kenji said, trying to mimic the calm way that father had. The old woman sat up, peering at him, squinting as if she couldn't quite see him. Kenji found he liked the idea of being half in the shadows. "And I'm doubly sure that whatever debt he promises you he'll be able to pay. So I'd appreciate it if you helped him out, de gozaru." He added the last just for effect.

The old woman bolted from her seat like a striking snake and grabbed his chin with pinching fingers, dragging him forward. Kenji yelped, too surprised to resist and stumbled into a pool of light. The woman's eyes widened and she touched his cheek in an almost motherly way.

"Flesh and blood," she murmured. "You assuredly are." She dropped her hand from his face and touched the line on her neck. "Himura…"

"Himura Kenji," Kenji said, rubbing his face and wondering if this old bat was completely insane. A strange expression misted over her wrinkled face and her eyes flickered in a half blink.

"Your father saved my life, you know," she said in a whisper. "I was a hairsbreadth…"

"Oh." Was all Kenji could say. The way she spoke was so strange. A hushed way. Like his father was some sort of wonderful strange spirit.

"You could say that you owe him a debt," Fujita said quietly. The old woman's face turned to stone in an instant. Kenji took the opportunity to back away from her, just so he wouldn't get pinched by her.

"You're a sneaky bastard, Saitou Tsutomu," she said. "Fine. You have your way this one and only time. Do you understand?"

"I do," Fujita said, unbuttoning the jacket of his police uniform and sliding it off before sitting back against the wall himself.

"Good. Saiyu." At her voice, a man rose up from the dice game and bowed low. "Get food. Soba." Her mouth twisted into a smirk at Fujita's low groan. "The rest of you, find somewhere else to be."

Kenji stepped aside as the men cleared out and there was just the three of them. The woman looked at him from time to time, and then after a while, lit a pipe and stopped looking all together. Fujita just folded his hands on his lap and stared at the wall. What the hell was going on? Kenji glared at Fujita's head as he rubbed his aching jaw. The boy had used him for something. He wasn't sure what. They didn't seem to be going to start talking anytime soon.

"Oi," Kenji muttered, nudging Fujita's leg with his foot. "Are you going to tell me what's going on or not?"

"Sit down and shut up," Fujita said. Kenji kicked him harder and Fujita winced and glared at him.

"Don't order me around, you jerk. Tell me."

"Well," said the old woman unexpectedly. "You really aren't a thing like him, are you?" She was giving him a cool look over her pipe.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, annoyed by the critical way she was looking at him, as if he'd suddenly become something less in her eyes. Not that he really cared one way or the other.

"Your father. You know, I've only met Himura Kenshin once and already I can tell that you have none of his spirit. These times are so disappointing." She sighed heavily, gusting a huge ring of smoke. Kenji wanted to shove the pipe down her throat. How dare she say that? What the hell did she know anyway?

"Look, you old crone--" he started.

"Himura, I swear to every god in every heaven that if you ruin this for me I will gut you like a fish," Fujita said, voice mild but eyes cutting sharp as he glared up at him. "Sit down and shut up or get out."

What? Kenji clenched his hands into fists. He'd just helped Fujita out! He'd just helped the ungrateful jerk out and all he could tell him was to shut up or leave? All Kenji wanted to know was what was going on! On the other hand… On the other hand maybe it was that important. Kenji sat down heavily, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at the tatami. It better be important. Though he sensed that it was. Kenji sighed deeply and ended up coughing as the smoke got in. The irritation knotted in his stomach faded to complete boredom as nothing continued to happen.

"How do you know my father?" Kenji had asked just to fill the silence with something. Then discovered he really wanted to know. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them as he looked at the old woman. "What was he like back then?"

"Hm?" she blinked at him, as if coming out of a trance. She took so long to answer that Kenji didn't think she would at all. After a moment she looked off again, staring somewhere past the wall.

"He was a young man when I knew him," she said in a slow voice. "He'd just left the war, I think, and it was very heavy on his face and heart. I've never known a young person to be full of such sorrow."

That sounded like father alright. Kenji let his gaze slide back to the tatami, trying to picture it in his mind's eye, though it was always hard to imagine his father as young. It seemed he'd been old forever.

"My niece and I were traveling, trying to escape the chaos of the war…and we were attacked. To this day, I don't know why. My darling husband was killed and then I was cut and I thought we were all going to die. But then Himura came out of nowhere. He fought like a demon."

Kenji felt a shiver crawl down his spine at the tone of her voice. He couldn't imagine Father doing that either. Nothing about Papa was vaguely demonic. If he didn't know better, he would think the old woman was talking about an entirely different Himura.

"That's a long time to remember such a thing," said Fujita.

"Well when someone saves your life, it does tend to stick in your mind," said the old woman dryly. "And I'll never forget…"

Kenji stole a glance at her and found her eyes were closed. There was such a strange expression on her face.

"I was bleeding so much," she said, voice distant, barely above a whisper. "The snow was red with my blood. But he told me I wouldn't die because I had someone to live for. And even though a fever took my niece the very next year, I still managed to live on. Frankly, it seemed disrespectful to do otherwise." Her voice came back to normal and she gave him a hard, flinty-eyed stare.

"If your father is still like the man I knew, he's too good a man for you to be having such a rude attitude about you."

Kenji rolled his eyes and looked away. Just who did that old woman think she was? She hardly even knew him. Just because she'd met Father once didn't mean she had the right to say things like that. It wasn't worth it to argue with her though. That would only get Fujita mad and cause another mess. Kenji rested his chin on his knees again and tried to think of other things. The soba came soon and Kenji thanked the man as he handed him his bowl. He almost regretted thanking him as he looked into it. Soba tasted alright, but it looked disgusting. It always reminded Kenji of small wiggly worm guts. Or at least that's what Inoi had said once and he hadn't been able to get the image out of his head ever since.

Still, he was hungry. Kenji poked around with his chopsticks a bit, trying not to think about it, then lifted some to his mouth. Maybe it was this room or the people who'd cooked it, but it tasted like cigarette smoke. Ugh. At least he wasn't the only one disgusted by it. Fujita's eyes were narrowed; one slightly more than the other and twitching slightly as he slowly ate.

"Cheer up, boy," said the old woman, her creaky voice amused. "It can't be that bad. It's food, isn't it?"

Kenji wasn't sure which of them she was talking to and so remained quiet. He didn't trust himself to speak to her anyway. If all this was for something stupid he was going to beat Fujita senseless. Fujita didn't answer either and silence once more fell over the room. The bowl was halfway empty when something twitched through Kenji, as if someone had plucked at a taunt string inside him. Little tingles raced up his spine and spread over the back of his neck. He looked up, glancing out the door of the alcove to the smoky room beyond. He got this feeling sometimes when someone was creeping up behind him. But his back was to the wall. Still the feeling wouldn't go away. There was something…

Fujita was looking up as well, staring into the room, eyes narrowed in concentration this time. He met Kenji's gaze and cocked his head slightly, asking Kenji to go see what it might be. Kenji nodded and set the bowl to the side, rising to his feet and absently resting his hand against the hilt of the shinai.

"You're going to leave?" said the old woman. "You aren't even finished."

"Thank you for the meal," Kenji said with a bow; then he walked out without waiting.

"What manners," said the old woman in a stony voice.

"He has his moments," Fujita said quietly. Kenji put them out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. Something was going to happen. He could feel it. Like the smell before a storm. Wherever the feeling was coming from, though, it wasn't in here. No one even looked at him as he passed by. It must be outside then.

Kenji stepped down into his sandals, tapping them into place and hesitated before opening the door and stepping out into the street. It was dark and a cool breeze brushed against the fine hairs on the back of his neck. He rolled his neck from side to side, loosening the muscles, looking on both sides of the street. A scream broke through the night like shattering glass.

He startled and whipped around to face the direction the scream had come from. A small figure was running toward him, dressed in a short yakuta, cast into light and shadows as she ran by the windows. There were dark shapes behind her, men, thugs, determined looks on their faces. Kenji's blood flared hot. One of the thugs caught up with her, grabbing her arm, she shrieked in pain. Kenji took off, his feet hitting hard against the ground. How dare they! His blood was screaming in his ears as the man and girl came closer and closer. Kenji gritted his teeth, anger flaring through him, and slid to a stop in front of them. The man stared in shock and Kenji swung the shinai around hard, feeling a crunch as it hit his ribs. The man screamed and doubled over. Kenji brought the shinai back, smashing it down on the brawny arm that still held the girl fast. The man let go of her and Kenji slammed the shinai hard against his head, then did it again and again until he fell. The girl stared at him, blood leaking out of the corner of her mouth, chest heaving. The other men began yelling.

"Run," he said, then turned and lunged toward the men, running as fast as he could. There were four of them. Large. Kenji screamed himself, throwing himself forward, burying his shinai into the first man's stomach and leaping out of the way as the man's own momentum sent him arching forward toward the ground. Kenji snapped the shinai hard across his back, then whirled around and got the second man in the stomach and chin, finally smacking him across the face. The man straightened, cursing, and swung at him, going right for his head. Kenji moved away from it, then the other fist that immediately followed from the other direction. The man overcompensated, throwing himself off balance and Kenji darted behind him, slamming the shinai against the back of his legs. The man crashed backwards just as a strong hand grabbed Kenji's shoulder in a hard grip. Kenji grabbed the hand and knocked his foot backward, curling it around the other man's to unbalance him before throwing him to the ground on top of one of the other men struggling to get up. Kenji still kept hold of the man's arm, however, and wrenched it until he felt the bone snap.

"You little bastard!" snarled the last man. Kenji moved to face him, holding the shinai in a defensive stance. This man was thinner than the others but his movements were graceful.

"I'll show you," the man snapped, pulling a wooden sword from his side. A smirk twisted his features and he pushed up on the top with his thumb, there was a snicking sound and the glint of a blade appeared in the faint light. Kenji felt his insides grow cold. Damnit. No. Kenji narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't be afraid.

"HAA!" he screamed, starting forward. But suddenly the sword was flashing through the air, slicing straight toward his chest. Kenji threw himself to the side, stumbling a few steps. There wasn't time to recover before the man came at him again. Kenji raised his shinai in an attempt to block, only to have the tip of it be sheared away. The man laughed. Kenji took advantage of his dropped guard and scrambled forward, sinking what was left of the shinai into the man's stomach. He wheezed and doubled over.

"Kenji!" Fujita called. Kenji glanced in the direction of his voice and yelped as bright fire ripped down his shoulder. He turned his attention back to the man who held the sword, now dripping with blood. Kenji cursed and gripped the spot that had been cut, feeling the hot slick blood pour over his fingers. His hand trembled but he kept a firm grip on the shinai.

"Prepare to die, little fool," the man snarled, raising the sword to get him from above. He could hear Fujita's feet, slow against the dirt road, hear the girl screaming and the sword coming down. Kenji raised the shinai, holding it longwise, bracing the other end with his good hand. As soon as the blade hit the bamboo he pushed the shinai up, forcing the blade to go at an angle. It slid through, slowed, stopped. The man blinked. Kenji pushed forward and snapped his knee up between the man's legs as hard as he could. The man gave a wavery scream, and was soon on the ground, taking the sword with him. Kenji let the remnants of the shinai go and stumbled back to rest against the wall of a nearby building, clutching at his shoulder, breathing hard. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his neck, stung at the wound.

He watched through heavy lidded eyes as Fujita ran toward him. The girl stood a little ways behind him, her hands pressed against her mouth. Hadn't he told her to run? She couldn't be any more than eight or nine years old. What was she doing out this late?

"Kenji. Are you all right?" Fujita asked. Kenji nodded. It was just a scratch. He hoped. Fujita shouldn't have even bothered to ask because he pushed Kenji's hand away and looked at the wound anyway. Kenji looked at it himself. He couldn't tell if it was bad. Everything seemed to be working. Fujita cursed under his breath. There was a ripping sound and Kenji looked up to see the girl was tearing at the hem of her yakuta. When she'd gotten a good portion off, she came up to them hesitantly, holding it out.

"A bandage," she said softly as Fujita blinked at her.

"Ah, thank you." Fujita took the cloth and Kenji held still as the older boy bound his shoulder. He tried not to wince at the pain Fujita's movements caused and instead focused on the girl. Her hair was disheveled and her face thin. There were large purple bruises along her neck that looked suspiciously like fingers.

"Who were those men?" Kenji asked.

"Kidnappers," Fujita said. "Filthy bastards who are taking children from all over the country. Isn't that right?"

The girl nodded and looked down, twisting her fingers together. Her knotted hair fell around her shoulders. It was if she was ashamed of it. She made a little noise as if she were crying. Kenji shifted uncomfortably. There was nothing worse than a little girl crying.

"Where are you from?" Kenji asked lightly, trying to distract her from her tears.

"Osaka," she said quietly. Still crying. Fujita finished binding his arm and Kenji flexed it experimentally before crouching in front of the girl and smiling up at her. She looked away from him, a tear rolling off her cheek and splashing cold on his.

"It's all right," he said. "You're safe now.

She shook her head and her knuckles whitened as she clenched her fingers hard.

"I…I should…shouldn't be," she said, hiccupping. Kenji tensed and looked around, trying to peer into the darkness.

"Are there other men after you?"

"N…no…not that I know of but…"

"Do you know where the Bunkyo Ward is?" Fujita interrupted. Kenji blinked up at him and nodded slowly. Fujita hesitated, glanced at him, then took a deep breath and let it out.

"I need you to take her there."

"What about you?" Kenji asked straightening. Fujita had taken out a cigarette but hadn't lighted it yet. Instead he turned it over and over in his fingers as he looked around.

"I'll have to deal with this. I'll meet you there when I'm finished." Finally he looked straight at Kenji. "I need you to take the back roads. No risks, you understand me? There is more than your life at stake."

Kenji nodded. Though he would still need some sort of weapon if someone attacked. He glanced for his shinai and winced as he saw what a wreck it had become. Mama had paid good money for it too and he'd just about destroyed it. She was going to be so upset with him. There was the blade but… Kenji glanced at it apprehensively. If Father even caught him looking at a sword, he'd be in for an hour's lecture. But…

"Get going," Fujita said, sounding stern but not annoyed. Kenji nodded, licked his suddenly dry lips and picked up the sword. A chill went through him. The weight…the weight was completely different and the balance too. The blade glinted and shone and a trail of blood curled down it to drip on the road at his feet. He swung it through the air experimentally and almost dropped it as pain flared through his shoulder.

"Stop playing around," Fujita said, annoyed now as he shoved the sheath at Kenji. "Move."

"All right, all right, I'm going," Kenji grumbled, sliding the blade home in the sheath. The metallic sound rang pleasantly against his ears. He wanted to pull it back out again, experiment with it, move into kata. But the girl…the girl was more important. He slipped the sword into the ties of his hakama, the weight obvious and dragging somehow, making him feel both serious and elated. He straightened and held out his hand to the girl.

"You'll be safe with me," he said. She blinked at him a moment, then sniffed and slipped her hand into his. He hadn't quite expected her to do that. A small part of him flared with embarrassment. Of course he'd held hands Inoi and Michiko many times but they were related. It wasn't the same thing. As if sensing this, the girl began to pull her hand away. Kenji squeezed her hand and started forward, gently pulling her with him. She walked sedately beside him.

He let them into a narrow side street and tensed at the dark alleys that opened up like gaping mouths between the buildings. The girl started to say something but Kenji put a finger to his lips, listening for any sound of movement. There was nothing, not even the faint skittering of a rat in garbage. Still he didn't want to risk it. Too many people could surprise them here. He paused at the end of the narrow road, pushing them both back in the shadows so he could glance down either side of the broader street. The moon was hidden and there was a scent in the air that promised rain. After a while with no movement, Kenji tugged her hand and led her out into the road, keeping close to the buildings. The girl sniffled and Kenji glanced at her. She was shivering, one dirty hand pressed against her face as her shoulders trembled.

"We're safe now," he said quietly. "Don't worry." And it was the truth. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her. No matter what. The girl didn't respond one way or the other. "We'll get you home soon." Or at least Fujita would. The girl shook her head.

"I…I don't d…deserve to go home," she said softly, her voice squeaking as she tried not to cry.

"Everyone deserves to go home," Kenji said, wishing he knew her name. She shook her head hard this time, and Kenji had to breathe in through his mouth because it was suddenly obvious she hadn't bathed in weeks.

"I didn't even try to run away all this time because I was scared," she said, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "And…and today they got this little boy…"

"Little boy?" Kenji asked, his heart stopping in his throat. It wasn't… It couldn't be…

"Uh huh and…and he was crying for his mother and I just decided to save him but…but they caught him…and…" She pressed her hand to her face and began crying again.

"This little boy," Kenji said, trying to sound gentle. "What was his name? What did he look like?"

The girl only shook her head until Kenji wanted to shake her. What if it was Shinta? Of course there had to be hundreds of little boys in Tokyo, but what if it was him? Kenji had to go see. Had to make sure.

"Come on, tell me something!" he said. He must have sounded rougher than he'd intended because she flinched.

"I don't know," she said. "He's…he's there…" She tugged her hand from his and pointed to a dark alleyway just across the street. Kenji peered hard into the darkness but saw nothing. He started toward the alley, only to be stopped when the girl wrapped her hands around his arm.

"No. Don't…don't go there."

"I need to. Wait here. I'll be back."

"I don't want to be alone!"

"Then come with me," he said. Even in the dim light he could see how pale her face was. It was too important to just leave the boy a mystery though. Kenji sighed and glanced down at her. "Look," he said. "I'm not going to let anything hurt you, okay? I protected you before, didn't I? And I'll do it again."

She hesitated, then nodded, but didn't relax her grip on his arm. Kenji had to pry her away just a little so he could move freely and guided them both to the alleyway. He stopped before he got there, his knees going weak. If she wasn't clinging to one side and the sword hanging heavy from the other, he was sure he would have fallen down. The smell of blood was thick in the air, twinging in Kenji's senses. Lying in a pool of it was a little boy, too young to be Shinta, too young to be so far away from his mother, his head smashed open like an egg. He dimly felt the girl press her face against his shoulder and he knew he should comfort her but he couldn't look away. The boy was lying facedown, his hand stretched out, curled to the side, as if he was only asleep. But his eyes were wide and staring.

Voices floated from down the street. Kenji put a hand to his sword, faint surprise flaring through him as he touched the unfamiliar hilt of the sword rather than the shinai. He couldn't see anyone yet and right now he wasn't sure if he wanted to. No risks, Fujita had said. Besides, if Kenji had to use this sword… If he was forced to use it… A sickening shiver went through him.

"We should go," he murmured to the girl, glancing apprehensively down the street.

"We…we can't just leave him."

"Miss," he said, for lack of anything else to call her. "There's nothing else anyone can do for him. I'm sure that he would want you to get home safely, even if he couldn't. Make up to your mother what his mother has lost." It didn't make an incredible amount of sense to him, but it sounded like something Father would say. The girl nodded but still Kenji had to pull himself from her grip so that he could grab her hand. Her fingers laced tightly through his, her grip crushing. Kenji did his best to ignore it and ran lightly, keeping close to the shadows. The girl followed him as best she could, but she wasn't as fast and needed to rest more often. Despite it being a slower pace than Kenji would have liked, they managed to get far from the voices and much closer to the Bunkyo Ward, when it started to rain.

The drops fell fat and slow at first, splashing against Kenji's cheek, his shoulder, sliding in cold trails down his chest. Thunder grumbled high above and the rain came thinner, faster, stinging his skin like needles. Lightning flashed and the girl squeezed his hand so hard he thought his bones would break. Kenji kept on, reaching one hand up to brush his sopping bangs from his eyes. He tried not to think of the child still sprawled in the alley, his blood mixing with the rain, churning it all into mud, eyes wide and glassy, longing for someone to take him home. That could be Michiko there, or Shinta or Inoi. Kenji bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to imagine their faces in place of the child's, head smashed, hand reaching…

Thunder cracked right overhead, making Kenji jump. The girl shrieked, her voice drowned by the pounding rain. The girl was tugging at his hand, a silent plea to get out of this storm. But there was nowhere to go. He didn't know anyone that lived nearby. When the rain became mixed with sharp cutting bits of hail, Kenji knew they would have to find shelter somewhere. They ended up pressed against the wall under an overhanging roof. The girl clung to him again, shaking from tears or cold, Kenji couldn't tell which. He let her hold on to him, wishing he knew something to say. The storm seemed to have drowned out his words too. All he could do was stare at the small patch of dark sky he could see, watching the lightning flicker through the clouds.

The twins were probably clinging to Father right now, as they usually did during a thunderstorm. Kenji suddenly wished he was at home, sitting on the engawa and watching the rain come down, puddling in the courtyard. Mama would probably be sitting with him, even though she shouldn't because it was so damp. He wondered if she was okay. He'd made her cry. Kenji winced, looking down into the street. That was twice in as many number of days that he'd upset her. And she was going to be even more upset now that the shinai that she'd just bought him was destroyed. Not to mention he hadn't been home since the afternoon. He wished she wouldn't worry about him so much. He could take care of himself. This wasn't the first time he'd been out so late and it probably wouldn't be the last. He was almost a man now, and just as strong as one. Twice as strong as one. And with a real sword… Kenji stroked his fingertips along the wooden hilt. Of course, he couldn't keep it. Father wouldn't allow it. But there were other things to consider too, more important than swords.

"Those people that were after you," Kenji said in a low voice. "Who are they? Where are they now? How many children have they kidnapped?" And done worse things to. They needed to be stopped...taken down. Fujita was involved in it, he was sure. And he would be involved in it himself. He wouldn't let Fujita tell him no.

"I don't know who they are," the girl said in a soft voice, hoarse from crying. "They never tell us anything." She clenched her fingers in his gi. "There are twenty of us, I think. It keeps changing." Her voice grew softer still. "I can take you there if you want."

Kenji glanced down at her. That was a brave thing to want to go back to a place like that, especially since it took so much just to run away. Half of him wanted to take her up on it. But it was too soon and he didn't even know what he was walking into.

"We'll see," he said. "Let's get you somewhere safe first." The worst of the storm had faded and the rain had gentled to a fine mist. Kenji was more relaxed as they started out again, but still kept an ear open, just in case. After a while of walking, the rain tapered to a stop. By the time they got to the Bunkyo Ward, the stars had appeared again and the moon hung low and distant, the bottom half cut off by the black roofs of buildings.

Kenji didn't know much about the Bunkyo Ward. He'd only come here once or twice. All he knew was that this was the traditional samurai district and he'd always felt a little intimidated by it. Even the houses seemed to watch them with solemn disapproval as they quietly made their way through the streets. He glanced around for Fujita. The older boy didn't seem to be here yet. Wandering around would only draw attention. Kenji guided the girl to a few trees clustered by the side of the road. She squirmed her hand out of his and sat down at the base of the tree, wrapping her arms around her legs. Kenji leaned against the solid trunk, folding his arms. It wasn't very pleasant under here. The mud squished under his sandals and occasionally drops would splash down on them from the leaves above, but at least it hid them from sight.

Time passed slowly. Or maybe it didn't pass at all. The night, which had gone by so quickly, now seemed to stretch into forever. Kenji focused on the moon, squinting as he watched it ease behind the houses. Where was Fujita? He should be done with whatever he had to do by now. Kenji shifted his weight. The sword thumped against his thigh and he looked down at it. He wanted to pull it out, hear the chime of metal. Maybe even try it from a battoujutsu stance. If he used a real sword, maybe he could understand it better. It was a tempting thought…but a childish one. It would be bad to draw attention to them, especially since they'd just expended so much effort trying to keep it away. He sighed inwardly. This was probably the only time in his life he'd ever get to hold a real sword and he couldn't even work with it.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, there came the rhythmic tapping of feet against the road. Kenji didn't even bother to double check who it was. The pace was too steady to be someone searching for runaway children, and normal people tended to move quicker in the later hours of the night. Kenji tapped the girl on the shoulder, before stepping away from the tree and looking for Fujita. The older boy appeared from the way they had come, face pale in the moonlight. He glanced up at Kenji and then his eyes slid past him to the girl.

"I'm glad you listened to advice for once," Fujita said, stopping a few feet from them to pry open his cigarette case. There were only three left, Kenji noted with a frown. There had been eight earlier.

"What did you have to do?" Kenji asked, watching Fujita try to light the cigarette. His hands were trembling slightly and it took him two matches before he could do it.

"Procedure," he said with a grimace. "A lot of fast talking. I won't bore you with the details." He took a long draw off the cigarette, closing his eyes like it was the greatest thing in the world. Then he opened his eyes and blew out a long stream of smoke. Then abruptly, he held the cigarette between his lips and shrugged out of his police jacket. It was dry even though Fujita's hair was wet. Kenji was mildly annoyed that Fujita had taken the time to change. The annoyance melted though when Fujita moved past him and draped the jacket over the girl's shoulders. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked in a gentler voice than Kenji had ever heard from him. The girl nodded and hugged the jacket close around herself. Fujita nodded and glanced at Kenji. "Come with me. But leave that thing behind." He gestured to the sword.

Kenji slid the weapon from his hakama and looked at it. He might as well leave it behind. It wasn't as if he could bring it home with him. But…

"It's nothing you want to keep," Fujita said quietly. "Think of the man who used it and all the things he might have done."

Kenji thought of the boy again. The little skull cracked and broken, the hand reaching for his mother that he would never see again. Kenji drew the sword once more, holding it up in what was left of the moonlight. There wasn't a scratch on the blade. You didn't need to fight if all you were going to do was murder children. His hand shook as anger knotted through him. How many had been killed by this blade? That bastard's sword? How many mothers were crying because they would never see their little ones again?

"Someone like that deserves to be gutted by their own sword," Kenji said, sheathing the weapon once more. But he didn't put it down. Couldn't put it down. The weight felt good in his hands. So much better than a shinai. Fujita's hand appeared on the sword too.

"Whatever the man deserves, it's not up to you to mete it out," Fujita said calmly, but there was a hint of something else in his voice. Something Kenji couldn't guess at. Fujita tugged at the sword and Kenji grabbed it back, twisting it out of his hand.

"Himura…" Fujita said, sounding frustrated. Kenji glared at him. Then sighed heavily, half in disgust and tossed the sword away, feeling a small sense of accomplishment as it cracked against the tree. What was he really going to do with it anyway? Go out and kill the guy? Father would really love that. All Kenji would be doing was proving him right.

"Come on," Fujita said. "Mother will look at your shoulder and I'll see if Oharu-obaasan will make us something to eat." He put a hand on his stomach and grimaced. "That soba was terrible."

"Mm," Kenji said, walking beside his friend as they started again. The thought of the sword kept coming to him, and in his mind's eye, he could see it lying on the grass. It was a killer's sword, and a fairly blunt one at that. He twitched his hand into a fist. So why did he want to pick it up again? Trying to distract himself, Kenji looked at the little girl. She was walking close to Fujita, clutching the jacket around herself and looking up at him with wide eyes. It was as if Fujita had protected her all that way. Holding her hand even. Kenji found he couldn't be very annoyed with her. Fujita looked safer. He was older too and young kids always seemed to trust the adults more.

"What's your name?" he asked her. She blinked at him as if just realizing he was there.

"Koji Fuyuko," she said quietly. She hesitated a moment, twisting her fingers on the edges of the jacket.

"Is there something wrong?" Kenji asked when she didn't speak.

"What about Totsu?"
"Totsu?"

"In…in the alley…."

Oh. It seemed that much more terrible now that the boy had a name. Was someone looking for him right now? Kenji wondered. Was his mother calling his name, wishing her baby would come back home?

"Want to fill me in?" Fujita asked.

"They killed a little boy in the alley," Kenji said, surprised by the flatness of his own voice. "He was trying to run away." Fujita winced.

"How old?"

"Four…maybe five."

"Damnit," Fujita said in a harsh whisper. Kenji nodded. It was hard to think about. Harder still to keep it from his mind. It wasn't fair that anyone should die so young. Especially like that. They went the rest of the way in heavy silence.

It wasn't a long walk, but by the time Fujita slowed beside a gate door, Kenji's shoulder was stinging and his whole body ached. The girl….Koji-chan…was shivering, but he wasn't sure if that was entirely from cold. Fujita stopped as he reached the gate. He dropped his cigarette and ground it out before picking it back up, flicking off the worst of the mud and shoving it in his pocket. Then he took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Fujita gestured for Koji-chan to go in first and then went after her, holding the door open for Kenji to follow.

Kenji's eyes widened as he stepped into the courtyard. Wow. The Saitou's had an impressive house! They must be really rich. There was a movement from the engawa and Kenji peered around Fujita curiously as a woman approached them, holding a glowing lantern. She was beautiful in an old sort of way, not half as pretty as mama of course, but there was a dignity about her.

She lifted the lantern and looked at the girl. A small welcoming smile lifted the corners of her mouth but didn't loosen the corners of her eyes.

"You're safe here," the woman said in a soothing voice. "We'll get you home in no time. Don't worry." She lifted the lantern a little higher and tilted her head a little.

"Are there two of them this time, Tsutomu?" she asked.

"No," Kenji said, stepping out of Fujita's shadow. He was about to say more but the smile had dropped from her face completely. She glanced at him a long hard moment before turning her eyes to Fujita.

"I had to bring him mother. He was wounded because of me."

"I thought you had discussed not to get him involved at all," she said, but she didn't sound annoyed. Kenji looked between the two of them, a little annoyed at being talked about as if he wasn't there.

"I didn't do it purposefully, Mother. Things just…happened." He shrugged helplessly. She gave him another long stare, then sighed long and deep, closing her eyes.

"Very well." Then she looked at him and Kenji forced himself not to step back. Her gaze was piercing, as if she was trying to see right inside him. She was a Saitou all right. There was no doubt about it. "I must ask you, Himura-san, to never reveal the location of this house to anyone. Least of all your father."

Kenji blinked. He didn't see why it would matter if Father knew where the Satious lived or not. Even if he wanted to tell Father, he probably couldn't. All the houses looked the same in the dark. Still he bowed and agreed. The woman gave him one last glance, then smiled again and put a gentle hand on the Koji-chan's shoulder.

"Let's get you warmed and fed."

"Thank you, ma'am," the girl said. Kenji watched Fujita's mother lead the girl away.

"What was all that about?" he asked in a low voice. Fujita grunted and started to lead him toward the house.

"Father being paranoid. Can't let the bakamatsu die even for a second."

Kenji nodded. He knew all about that.

"Sit there," Fujita said, pointing to the engawa. "Father will murder me if he finds out I let you in the house. I'll be back."

Kenji sat on the engawa, dangling his feet and resting his head on the support pole. He was tired and cold and his shoulder ached with every little movement. It seemed like ages since he'd been home. He should go home soon too, he thought, glancing at the sky. It was hard to tell what time it was, but Kenji had the feeling it was pretty late. Father would probably be looking for him again. That was the second night in a row. He wished they wouldn't worry so much. He could take care of himself. Didn't they know how strong he was?

After a while the engawa shook as Fujita came back. Kenji looked up at him and saw he had two bowls in one hand and bandages in the other. An old woman was behind him, carrying a lantern and a bucket of water. The woman set the bucket down but stayed, holding the lantern over them.

"Let me see it," Fujita said, sitting beside him. Kenji blinked, then realized he must be talking about the wound and pulled his arm from his gi, hissing under his breath as pain flared up his shoulder. He held his breath as Fujita unwound the dirty yellow cloth from the cut, wincing as the older boy had to pull it away from his skin.

"It's not too deep," Fujita said, prodding at it with long fingers until Kenji wanted to hit him. "But you should keep an eye on it. If it gets infected, you might lose your arm."

"From a simple cut?" Kenji said, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah right."

"I'm serious, Himura. Ask any doctor you want." He dabbed cold water on the wound and Kenji had to bite his tongue so he wouldn't sound like a child. Finally he bound it tightly with the bandage.

"You should probably still get that woman doctor of yours to look at it." Fujita said as he tied the bandage off.

"Mm," Kenji said, pulling his gi back up. He could and if she recognized a sword wound, he was done for. He would never be let out of the house again.

"Thank you, obasan," Fujita said to the old woman. "You can leave the lantern here if you don't need it."

She bowed and set the lantern beside him. She put a gnarled hand on Fujita's shoulder and after advising him to sleep soon, shuffled off. Kenji watched her until she'd melted into the darkness. When he looked back at Fujita, the boy was holding out a bowl to him, chopsticks resting across it. Kenji took it with muttered thanks. He took a bite and though he wasn't sure exactly what he was eating, it was good and warm and settled well in his stomach. Fujita wasn't eating though. Instead he'd taken a small black book from one of his pockets and was flipping through it. Kenji leaned a little closer, wondering what he was frowning so fiercely about. Fujita didn't edge the book away as expected, but handed it to him. Kenji blinked and set the bowl aside so he could look through it himself.

December

Kyo 11

Hiroshi 9

Mura 8

Jiro 4

"The kidnapped children," Kenji said, feeling his heart twist as the names and ages continued down the page. There were so many…

"Maybe. A child disappears in Tokyo everyday. If they're not high profile cases, it's impossible to tell who was kidnapped and who just got lost." Fujita's voice was heavy. Frustrated. He reached over and flipped a few pages. "Some of them were found," he said, indicating a few names. "Some were found dead. I don't know if we were too late or they just simply fell prey to the city."

Kenji shivered. It was strange wording but he knew it was true. Tokyo was a beautiful city, but dangerous if you didn't know what you were doing, where you were going. Sometimes even stepping into the wrong street at the wrong time was enough to get you killed. He'd never thought that children disappeared though. Children were supposed to be safe at home.

"We wouldn't even know about the kidnappers if it weren't for Mato." Fujita sighed, resting back on his hands and staring into the darkness of the courtyard. "Father found him at the edge of the city, crawling through the snow." Fujita's eyes narrowed and his hands clenched. "It wasn't the first time he'd tried to escape and they'd shattered his legs to prevent it, but still he crawled. His face— It was torture for him to talk, but still he told us so much before he died."

"How old was he?" Kenji asked, dreading the answer.

"Ten."

Even though Kenji was expecting a young age, the word cut him like a knife to the gut. Ten. Ten years old. Kazuo's age. No one to look after him. No one to care for him. Just a last desperate attempt to get away. Kenji looked at the names. There were so many, some as young as Michiko. He turned the page only to see more…and more… All these children….

An idea struck him and he sat straighter, looking at his friend with wide eyes.

"That girl, Koji-chan! She knows where it is! Maybe we could--"

"They'll know she's gone," Fujita said. "They'll know we can come close. Don't you think it's been attempted before? But the last two times we've tried they've made an example and I'm not going to do it again, not without Father."

"An example?"

"Mato was the first but not the last." Fujita closed his eyes, his voice distant. "I don't want to see that again. I don't want that to be because of me."

"But…but we can't just sit here!" Kenji wanted to go out and find them. And when he did…when he did… Well…he could get a blade…

"You will do nothing," Fujita said, sitting up suddenly and glaring at him. "You will keep your ear to the ground but otherwise stay out of it."

"Oh come on!" Kenji said, clenching his hands into fists. Fujita couldn't just shove him out like this! Not after all that had happened already! Kenji wanted to do something. Anything. Finally a chance to do something that mattered. Not just beating up stupid punks but something real.

"Think about it a minute, you moron," Fujita snapped. "Every gang in Tokyo knows who you are and more than half would be happy to see you skinned alive by them. And even if you avoided that, how long do you think it would take them to figure out who your father is? Do you have any idea what a disaster it would be if they were able to manipulate your father? If they had the former battousai on their side--"

"My father would never work for those kinds of people," Kenji said, blood roaring in his ears, barely feeling the pain as his fingernails cut into his palms. How dare Fujita say something like that! He really didn't know anything, did he?

"Yes, but if they captured you and held you, he would have no choice but to—"

"Never!" Kenji snarled. He was on his feet, glaring down at Fujita, trembling with the anger that roared in him. "And if you ever say anything like that again I'll break your face!"

Fujita rose too, fast and dangerous. Kenji stood his ground and glared up at the older boy, hating the fact that he had to crane his neck to do so. Fujita glared at him, eyes narrowed and cold. He was going to swing at him or he wasn't it was as simple as that. But if he did, Kenji was going to sink a fist into his stomach again and again until Fujita couldn't breathe.

"Think what you want, then," Fujita said finally, voice cold. "But stay out of it. If you even lift one finger to get involved I will throw you in a cell and throw the key out the window, do you understand me?"

Kenji raised his fist. He wanted to hit him. He ached so bad to hit him. Just to smash a fist across his face and make his stupid nose bleed. But that would only result in him getting punched, probably in the gut. He forced himself to turn and walk away. He stomped across the courtyard and nearly slammed the gate open. But this wasn't his house and in the back of his mind he knew he would have to face Saitou if he damaged the door. The anger stayed with him though as he made his way through the Bunkyo Ward and to the streets beyond, coiling and snapping at his insides.

He wasn't even sure what he was angry at anymore. But he wanted to hurt someone. He wanted to take his shinai and fight. A frustrated scream rose in his throat, tangling to get out. He stopped and punched a nearby wall instead and then again until the skin of his knuckles split and he could feel the warm itch of blood on his fingers. Instead of fading, the anger sunk, resting in the pit of his stomach, making him feel sick. His arm hurt and now his knuckles hurt too. His clothes were wet and cold, clinging to his skin and he knew…he knew that he was going to be in trouble when he got home. Except that it would be more than just trouble. Because…because of what he said. Of what he did. And now he didn't even have his shinai anymore. The new one that Mama just bought him.

Kenji pressed his hand flat against the wall before resting his forehead on the cool surface. Part of him just wanted to stay here. The night was quiet again, peaceful. The moon had sunk and there were just the stars, dim and faded as if they were tired too. A stream was rushing somewhere distantly and from it, he guessed, a frog croaked. Kenji sighed heavily and started back home at a slow pace, the road long and dim. Mama was going to kill him. Yahiko-ji and Megumi-basan were going to be furious with him. And Father…Father would just smile in that distant sort of way as if, in the end, it didn't really matter.

He wasn't sure how long he'd walked or how late it was, but after a while Kenji found himself slowing in front of an alley. There was nothing to distinguish it from the rest, just a dark smudge between two narrow walls. But Kenji knew where he was and what was inside it. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and peered around the corner. The boy was still lying there. Wet now, mud nudged around his still form as it had flowed around him. He was still reaching. Still longing. Kenji knelt beside him, gingerly touched his dark hair where it wasn't splattered with blood and bits of skull. Then, sitting back on his heels, and flinching at the pain in his arm, he took off his gi and wrapped the boy up on it, tucking his small arms close to his chest.

"There now," he said softly. "You're warm and there's nothing that can hurt you." But the boy wouldn't stop staring at him with that sad haunted look, so Kenji reached out and gently closed his eyes.

Then he stood and walked away, shivering and wiping his hands on his hakama. Some water must have dripped off the eaves onto him when he wasn't paying attention, because as he walked, his cheeks were wet.