Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.

"This'll be your room," Rei said in a well-memorized tone as she slid the door open, allowing the Himura twins in. Ai's violet orbs widened upon entry; it was, as Misao had promised eagerly, one of the best rooms in the house. The floors beneath their feet shown handsomely, having probably been cleaned only hours earlier for the occasion. The walls were painted with an intricate array of animals that could only be recognized in Asia, following the style of the old paintings of grand artists. From walls that were not already decorated with marvelous paintings hung richly-patterned kimonos - those of which, no doubt, were the twins' size. Shinta lazily dropped his bag and slid open a closet to reveal futons upon futons. His nose wrinkled.

"Gee, I feel like the emperor," he muttered unenthusiastically. Misao and Kaoru's teasing had done his mood no good. Ai threw a warning glance at him, but Rei, having already caught on to his irritation, waved a hand casually.

"Don't worry, Ai-chan," she said, banishing the other girl's fears before they were allowed to be spoken. "Those silly little 'perfect match' words have got a sword shoved up his ass." To the last word, Ai stiffened slightly; Shinta whirled in the ninja's direction, eyes flaring.

"I was not affected by that," he snapped defensively. "Aren't girls your age taught how to talk nicely? I bet your Buddhist dad wouldn't like hearing you cuss." To this, Rei's reaction was not what he would have wanted; she stretched in a leisurely manner, yawning loudly.

"And I care because...?" She rose an eyebrow inquiringly. Shinta, finding no means of retaliation that rested in words, snorted.

"Don't act tough," Shinta snapped irately, pulling two futons from the closet as he spoke (with very little success). "You're just cocky because you've been... gone... from your family for a long time now." Upon seeing her eyes, which sneeringly and wordlessly begged him to continue, he spoke again, "For all we know, you were touring the world. Just like that porcupine train-phobic guy-"

"Siderodromophobic."

Shinta blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Siderodromophobic," Rei said again, shrugging. "One who fears trains, railroads, or train travel." The twins' faces were very much alike: as if they were startled fish, their eyes wide and mouths gaping. Rei grinned broadly, suppressing a chuckle. Her vocabulary never ceased to amaze others. "And for your information, Shinta-chan, I wasn't touring the world."

"Drop the 'chan'," he said coolly. He had never liked being treated as if he were little, despite the obvious fact that he was. "And if you weren't, where were you for six years or so?" The sneer in his voice was a challenge, no doubt. Rei took it on eagerly.

"I was in China," she said, sitting down on one of the futons Shinta had attempted to unfold. She patted the spot next to her and they sat (Shinta doing so much more grudgingly). "I've been working in the underground in an attempt to find a drug that was supposedly being produced in mass quantities and was very dangerous." A grin curled her lips; Ai was taking in every word in a awed stupor, whilst Shinta stared at her as if she were insane. The latter was the more believable of the two. Had she told anyone about her trip, they would have thought her insane. Who in Japan - no, in the world - would believe that a five-year-old girl had trapised off to China to investigate drugs?

After a moment's silence, Shinta's much-expected reply came, "Yeah, right."

"It is," she said simply, her grin never fading. Rei took an immediate interest in Shinta; it seemed as if he were willing to believe her words, but he was also apprehensive. He didn't want to be fooled, which was an expected reaction. Very human. "I'm not exactly your run-of-the-mill kid," she added.

"Wow," he retorted sarcastically. "As if we don't have enough of those. My older brother has it in his head that he's some sort of demigod. And now we've got a child prodigy. What next?"

"Shinta-nii!" Ai stammered, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Don't worry, Ai-chan," Rei said simply, shrugging it off. "Doesn't bother me." At this, Shinta's eyes narrowed; it was something of an insult to his pride to fail in an attempt to verbally rattle her. Crossing his arms firmly in front of his chest, he met her eyes fiercely. Icy blue orbs danced with amusement.

"Not even some child prodigy could survive for six years in China," he said accusingly. "Not alone, at least."

"I never said I was alone," she answered simply. "Well, I was alone good-guy wise, but that doesn't really count. Let's see..." She stroked her chin with a hand, as if she had some sort of a beard - it was a habit she had picked up somewhere along the line of work - and mused out loud. "I lived with a few families. The first one was pretty nice, and being that cute lil' old me was only five, they took me in. My Chinese, which was pretty crappy at first, got a lot better. After I picked up leads to the company, which was... two years later? I think so. Anyway, I was glad to get back into some of the shadowy habits. I spent a few more years working at an inn that I guessed was one of their hideouts. After I finished with the hum-drum laundry gig, I would poke around in the underground and make friends." The way she said this suggested that her "friends" had not been quite willing. It was strange, thinking of a girl between seven and eleven threatening a man more than three times her age.

"I almost caught one of their weasels," she said, her tone bordering nostalgia. "But it was in the wrong place at the wrong time I decided to catch him - the bastard was really sloshed out one night, and I got cocky. I tried to get him out in the open, but a few more of them caught me trying to wring the info from him, and they beat the crap outta me. I was lucky I got away." She whistled thoughtfully. "Anyway, they told the guys at the inn and I needed to haul ass before they caught on to me. I spent the rest of the time in the streets, and right when I picked up another lead... Mom and Dad wanted me home." The disappointment in her voice was evident.

"I'm glad you're okay," Ai said breathlessly, her eyes wide. Shinta glared at his sister accusingly. She had eaten it up.

"I still don't believe it," he said crossly. "You were five. Smart or no, kids don't do that kind of stuff. It's just stupid."

"You're pretty naive, Shinta," she mused, leaving the name without an honorific. "Children have been used for military purposes for ages. Even before our parents were born, emperors and kings were signing agreements to have little kids go off to war... be it as soldiers, messengers, sex slaves, or shields." To this, Ai paled considerably. Rei continued, oblivious to the affect her words were having on the other two. "And it's not just Japan. Boy soldiers were used by the British Army in the Battle of Waterloo, Jewish kids as young as eight were used in Russia..."

"I get it, okay?" Shinta snapped, becoming worried for Ai. The ebony-haired girl seemed on the verge of tears; she had obviously never thought of the possibility of children being used for something as graphic as war at such a young age. 'Then again,' he thought grudgingly as he patted her shoulder in an attempt to comforting, 'neither have I.'

"Compared to those kids, I'm lucky," Rei murmured, and this time, her voice didn't sound so enthusiastic. Shinta nodded vaguely, comparing her exposure to the real world to the experiences of those she had spoken of. There were very many differences, but it all came down to the same thing: being young did not mean you were guaranteed shelter. A silence descended on the three for a moment, and Shinta noted the absolute stillness of everything in the room - and, it seemed, outside too - before Rei laughed loudly, shocking the twins.

"Can't take the silence," she said, once she had finished her somewhat disturbing laugh. Shinta was about to scold her, but the small smile on his sister's face silenced him. The long-haired Shinomori girl stood abruptly. "I should let you guys get your stuff ready."

"Wait!" Ai called suddenly, standing. "Uh, um..." She fell silent, taking a sudden interest in her sock-clad feet. "Could you, um... tell me about China? About the family that kept you for a few years?" The curiosity in her voice was genuine. For a moment, Shinta saw disbelief flash through the other girl's eyes, but she said nothing. The confident, reassuring smile was once again on her lips and she turned back to them, assuming a sitting position.

"I guess a story wouldn't hurt, would it, Shinta?" she looked at him inquiringly. Shinta, much to his chagrin, nodded silently.

'She seems very grown-up,' was the thought that ran through his mind as Rei proceeded to tell them of the silent beauty, the rare tranquility, the harsh reality, and the devastating misery she had seen. As the three soon became lost in tales that had taken years to weave, years of miserable experiences and happy moments that sparsely populated her time in China. For a moment, Shinta thought of his father, and if the carcasses in the streets she spoke of reminded him of those in the Bakamatsu. Despite these horrible words, Rei would bring up something that made her happy, if only in a bittersweet way. It became utterly clear to Shinta: some people were forced to grow up quickly.

And some people, people like his older brother Kenji, were just too desperate to become an adult.

xXx

Chizuru swatted a bug irritably, her eyes narrowing as she attempted to catch site of either her sister or Kenji through the darkness. The sun had gone down long ago - all that remained were the pale lights given off by the moon and stars - leaving the three teens and the old man stranded on the mountain top for the night. Hiko had, upon getting a closer look at the girls, invited them in graciously. Then he had badgered Kenji into going out to find him a stupid stump to sit on.

'Moron,' she thought angrily, stumbling again. Had she not needed to relieve herself so badly, she would have stayed in the cabin; she would have been asleep right now, safe from the annoying bugs. Although she was good with maps, she was horrible in the dark. She could only hope that Kenji (being the talented, arrogant bastard he insisted on acting as) would hear the noise she made. He would find her, and he would lead her back to the cabin, degrading her all the way.

'I just hope he finds me before some wild animal does,' she thought with a shudder. The thought of Mana awakening in the morning and leaving the cabin to find a pile of bones with a very nice (and unclawed) kimono was a bit... unnerving. Having been thinking about being eaten to the point of disregarding her location, Chizuru's foot caught on an upturned root. The young Raikoji gave a startled cry as she fell forward; instead of meeting the ground uncomfortably, as she had expected, gravity pulled her into something of a void. The scream in Chizuru's lungs died instantly as she finally collided with the ground... to find that it was not quite as dry as it should have been.

Chizuru looked up, squinting through the darkness; as her eyes became adjusted to the lack of light, she realized that she had fallen from a steep incline. Her arms throbbed as she attempted to lift herself up, having been thoroughly jolted when she had used them to brace her fall. Although excruciatingly painful, she could tell that they were not broken. She had broken bones before (although a great majority of these had been inflicted upon her by men who had gotten rather... rough). She knew how to detect such an injury upon first feeling it. Chizuru clenched her hands together to find mud gathering within her grip. Had it rained earlier? No, it had been the uncaring sun that had blazed down on them upon climbing up the mountain.

Chizuru wobbled upwards, noting the pain jolting through her ankle with a hiss. It, too, was not broken, but it was worse than the rest of her. 'Sprained, probably,' she thought, facial features twisting in pain as she attempted to stand. Hiking down the mountain would not be something she would enjoy. Grabbing the side of the incline she had fallen from with mud-slick hands, she dragged herself into a comfortable sitting position, ignoring the ruined state of her kimono. Once she had found a means of sitting that put no pressure on her ankle, she hugged her knees to her chest, breathing out between her chattering teeth. What was it, the middle of summer? Despite the hot, humid days that passed by, the nights still found a means to be chilling.

She had no means of knowing how long she waited; it could have been moments, but she was leaning more towards hours. Her ankle had gone from sharp, jabbing pain to a dull throb, but she knew to move it would mean renewal of the pain. For the time she was unable to guess, she sat in the darkness, silently marveling on the stillness around her. How long had it been since she had last enjoyed this quiet? Her blue eyes closed as she thought, but she could dig up no memories of ever having done such a thing. For so long - ever since their father had decided to beat very dangerous knowledge into his daughters - she had been both fighting and running. Her skills with swords were miserable; the last time she had picked up a sword, she had been beaten over the head and into unconsciousness before she could bring it up to strike. Her only strength had lain, and forever would lay, in the determination she kept.

As Chizuru waited, unwanted images of her father flashed through her mind, and she was suddenly reminded why she had often strained so hard to keep herself from these quiet moments. It was not something she resorted to thinking of when she thought herself close to death - she had been hurt, abused in all possible ways, but never had she been close to death - it was something that came to her naturally with the silence. It was brought on by the stillness that seemed to muffle her, to freeze the air in her lungs.

It came because the silence had been their father's favorite method of punishment.

How many times had she found herself tied into a closet, bound hand and foot, gagged with something that tasted strongly of blood? It could have been her own or somebody else's, she had no way to be sure... Once she had heard her mother outside, screaming, begging, and then silenced by her father. 'What happened to the man I married?' she would question. 'What happened to the man I loved?' But her questions and pleas would be drowned out by her agonized screams. Through all this, Chizuru would wait in the darkness, bound to the silence that surrounded her. After the ordeal her mother had gone through, the doors would open to her, and her father would sneer at her and leave her there. Once, she remembered, she had stayed in that closet for two days with no means of escape. It had only been when Mana had begged, cried, and screamed that her father had acknowledged her existence once again.

Mana's suffering had been different. The only way Chizuru knew this was because their father had named the closet; "Chi-chan's Closet", he had called it. The thought sickened her. No, Mana had suffered in some other way, a way that traumatized her too much to speak of it. Chizuru herself had never spoken to her sister of the closet, but Mana had been there. She had seen her brave, strong sister being forced into the darkness and tied down. She had listened to Chizuru's screams fading into the inevitable silence. The young Raikoji instantly shook her head, banishing the memories; she would have nightmares, were she lucky enough to fall asleep.

'Think happy thoughts,' she ordered herself stubbornly. 'Silly, meaningless, happy thoughts.' And it worked, just as it had done so many times before.

What would Mana think when she awoke to find her sister missing? What would Kenji think? 'He'd probably offer to leave me here,' she thought angrily, her fists clenching at the idea. If that was what he planned on, she would crawl down the mountain on her hands and knees, and then she would throttle him--

Such thoughts were instantly stopped as she felt gentle, yet firm fingers trace her sprained ankle. Had she not been in pain, she would have kicked the offending hand, but the limb retreated into the darkness before she could find time to think. Then it was Kenji who neared her, his features unreadable as he took in her position, her skin and clothes muddy, her hair in disarray. She was about to reprimand him for his actions, but his eyes went from her own and back to her ankle, gently tracing it with his hands. Chizuru involuntarily shuddered.

She wanted to snap, to shove him off, but the words froze in her throat. Kenji took the wise choice and said nothing. Chizuru watched his hands move gently across her sprained ankle for a moment, pausing on the epicenter of her pain. She had only started to realize the feeling of his fingers, lightly calloused from either little training or a lot of working with a wooden sword, when he pulled them away. She bit back the flash of disappointment she felt upon realizing this, averting her eyes to the dark ground when his blue ones met hers. He was still unreadable.

"I used to sprain myself all the time when I was a kid," he finally murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was bordering nostalgia. "My mother taught kendo, and I was her guinea pig for a while..." When he realized his sad tone, he stopped. "But yeah, I know enough about sprains and broken bones."

Had she been inclined to argue, she would have told him she knew plenty about injuries. Chizuru found, much to her chagrin, that she had no room for anger. She was all confusion; that, and a little embarrassment. Seeing past Kenji's harsh words and understanding the underlying action was more surprising than she would have guessed. The usual anger and irritation she felt towards him was gone for a moment, replaced by a blank; a blank that, depending on the young Himura's future actions, would change.

'I haven't given him enough credit,' she thought, but even as it formed, she banished it. Enough credit... feh! The idea!

But even as her thoughts threatened to darken, Chizuru sighed, half-contented and half-exhilarated. Kenji's eyes flashed as he blinked up at her, catching her sigh but failing to interpret it. The young Raikoji averted her eyes to her sprain, biting her lip when her eyes, having adjusted to the darkness, caught site of the ugly purple staining her skin. A surprised squeak escaped her when the young Himura's hands pulled at the fabric covering her leg, lifting it slightly. Her suspicions of his being overly friendly were banished when he let it fall again, noting that the bruising from the sprain had not traveled up her leg. Chizuru's eyes narrowed just slightly as she thought of the other bruises - although more faded, they were still there - on her body. She clamped her eyes shut for a moment, hoping that the darkness would cover her facial features. She was not so lucky.

"Something wrong?" he questioned calmly, and she shook her head. He was silent, waiting for a reply; when she made none, he turned back to her ankle. "Can you stand?"

"Yes," she bit out as she grabbed the sides of the incline from which she had fallen for support, dragging herself to her feet. For a moment, Chizuru could've sworn she saw amusement flash through his eyes, but it was gone when she blinked. Her eyes narrowed angrily and she hissed, pained, as she took a step forward. It was shaky, but she was capable. The last thing she wanted was to give the young man an excuse to carry her. Kenji knew her independence, if anything; before she was allowed to complain, he slid his arm under hers, supporting her.

"K-Kenji!" she hissed, pulling away. The young Himura held fast, eyes narrowing.

"Stop screeching, Chizuru," he snapped, adding emphasis to the fact that he had stripped her name of an honorific. If she found them so pointless, he would forego using one for her. She took no notice of it - if she did, it was delivered along with the poisonous glare she gave him - and fell silent.

The two walked through the foliage, keeping their words to themselves; their emotions were hidden behind masks of passiveness. Chizuru found herself glancing at the young Himura every once in a while, using the darkness to cloak the path of her eyes; despite this, she averted her eyes every time she found herself taking in his delicate features. Despite his calloused hands, his face was far from rough. 'Almost like a girl,' she mused, then, grudgingly, added, 'A very pretty girl.' During her previous arguments with him, all Chizuru had been focusing on was his eyes. Deep blue... not like hers, but a companion in color. Mana had told her, more than once, that the shade of her eyes tended to change when her mood changed. "Bright when you're happy, and dark when you're sad," she had said. Chizuru had then spent a great deal of time studying Mana's eyes, searching for a change, but she found none. Her sister was either perfectly content, or her eyes had lost their spark. She fervently hoped it wasn't the latter. But as her own eyes traveled back to Kenji's, watching them for a moment before looking away once again, Chizuru felt that his would never change.

Was he hiding anything beneath that calm exterior? She found herself pondering this possibility. Was there a monster underneath his irritable words, his cool expression? There seemed to be a monster under every man she had come across. Her father, who had been a kind soul at first, had changed drastically. The proof of this change had been carved into the siblings' minds and into their mother's body; the thought of the beautiful, kind woman that had given birth to them was almost unbearable now. Chizuru remembered her mother, but Mana had a hard time doing so. What triggered the former's memories were the screams she had heard her mother bring forth. Such unsettling thoughts gave way to warm, comforting ones. If she allowed herself to drift in these thoughts long enough, Chizuru would remember her mother vividly: a tall, thin woman with long, black hair. The young Raikoji could remember being cuddled to her mother's chest protectively while calming words were whispered in her ear. She could remember the feel of fabric in her clenched hands as she sobbed, pouring out her troubles to the woman listening.

And then, just as the feeling of being warm and sheltered had started, it was gone. Chizuru bit her lip upon remembering the bruises covering her mother's body, the shallow, pained rise and fall of her chest as she attempted to breathe. Brown, soulful eyes stared up at the child imploringly. She could remember her mother extending a shaky hand, sobbing, pleading, but receiving only one kind of mercy: that of which released her from her pain. After her sobs and pleas came silence. Silence... and the sickening smell of blood.

Chizuru hated the couple of silence and blood, but what she hated more was the pairing of silence and darkness. Her eyes widened as the realization hit her; although it was dark, and neither of them spoke, she felt not the sickening sensation of her lungs tightening. She was not afraid; her heart was not hammering through her chest as it should have been. 'It's because I'm not alone,' she thought. Had she said this out loud, she would have been embarrassed.

Chizuru's thoughts were shattered as her ankle throbbed in complaint; she let out a hiss between her teeth, clenching her fists. The noise was barely audible, but Kenji heard it. He looked down at her, blue eyes searching hers. Wordlessly, he led them to the nearest clearing - one sitting on the edge of a very, very steep incline overlooking Kyoto - and allowed Chizuru to put her weight on him as she searched for a comfortable means of sitting. When she had comfortably adjusted herself, he also sat, wordlessly watching the lights of the city flickering below.

"You know," Chizuru finally murmured, breaking the silence, "you would have never done that for me the first time we met." To this, Kenji was silent. When she attempted to catch his eyes, he looked away stubbornly. He killed the guilt before it was allowed to torment him. His silence was nowhere near enough to satisfy the young Raikoji. "But it's happened before, so I guess I shouldn't blame you. I... I've tried running away countless times." She smiled weakly, to which Kenji stubbornly averted his eyes. Were she telling this to a complete stranger, she would be putting herself at risk. She was trusting him with information that, were he not working for her enemies, would endanger her. The young Raikoji coughed nervously, oblivious to his guilt. "I... what I'm trying to say is... thanks. Without you, Mana wouldn't be safe... I wouldn't be free."

Kenji chanced a look at her; upon seeing her face, he both regretted it and relished it. Her eyes were bright, reflecting the shadows of the foliage and the lights of the stars. A serene smile curled her lips, and, for a moment, she looked utterly content. Kenji wanted to look away, to silence the sudden pounding through his veins, but he found himself transfixed. He vaguely registered the fact that their faces were inches away from each other, his looking up having caused them to become very close, but it did not matter. Chizuru's smile wavered for a moment as she, too, realized their closeness. She looked away. Kenji found himself dreading the action.

"So," she said casually, changing the subject. "Your last name is Himura, right? Your father wouldn't happen to be the Himura Kenshin?" Kenshin instinctively stiffened, but nodded; he hated being compared to his father. Although Chizuru had done nothing to suggest this motive, he knew it was coming. Whenever somebody introduced the subject of his father, Kenji was instantly overshadowed. However, instead of great explanations of shock, the young Raikoji merely mumbled, "Wow. I know a lot about the Hitokiri Battousai... from childhood stories, of course, so I'm not sure if they're real. What's he like as a father?" She grinned. "Ever spanked you with a katana?"

Kenji found, much to his surprise, that he was nowhere near offended by her words. Rather, he found himself suppressing a chuckle. Upon hearing his snort, Chizuru's smile widened. She had managed to brighten his mood. But, despite this, he had not answered her question. As the silence stretched, Kenji realized this, and his smile slowly faded. It was replaced by something akin to... disgust? No. He was tottering on the paper-thin line between self-consciousness and confusion.

"He abandoned a katana long before I was born," he began, unsheathing the sakabatou and allowing Chizuru to pass her hand along the blunt edge. "He... he does the laundry. He cooks most of our food." Upon hearing these womanly tasks being performed by the great Battousai, Chizuru chuckled. Kenji continued, "He wouldn't teach me anything about Hiten Mitsurugi, which is why I'm here. I was raised in a family that respected the principle of not killing, but..." He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"...But you doubt that theory," Chizuru finished for him. There was a bitter note to her voice. She met Kenji's eyes again, but this time, there was no smile. They were narrowed seriously; her mouth was drawn into a straight line. "There's nothing heroic about killing people, Kenji." Her look faltered, and she bit her lip, as if trying to forestall her own emotions. "I know that too well."

"You say that, but is that what you think?" he half-snapped, eager to defend himself. Before Chizuru was allowed to reply, he lifted the fabric covering her arm, exposing the ugly bruises. Despite their dark color, her pale skin shown in the moonlight; it made the reality all the uglier. "These were not from an accident. Someone did this to you, and I--" He suddenly stopped, realizing where his words were going. Chizuru's eyes were wide, questioning his knowledge of her past. Almost instantly, he covered her arm again. "...I saw these earlier, when you were showing Mana-san the room."

"I..." She was about to speak when a flash caught her eye, drawing her attention from their conversation; she let out a small gasp as colored fire exploded in the distance above Kyoto. Kenji, too, was transfixed as he watched fires of blue, green, and red bloom in the air with loud booms. "It's beautiful," she murmured. "I forgot about the festival." The young Himura said nothing as he watched the fireworks. This time with Chizuru had ensured one thing: he would protect her and her sister. He would be their companion, silent and sheltering, to the young women that had offered him their friendship. He would return that friendship, if only for a short amount of time. His family was in danger; although he did not doubt Kenshin's ability when it came to defending them, he would do everything in his power to ensure their safety.

As the two watched the fireworks mingle with the stars above, Kenji realized that he would risk important things for those which he considered more important. He stared at Chizuru for a moment, averting his eyes when she met his with an inquiring look. She smiled broadly, a smile he suddenly found amazing.

He would risk losing the friendship that he had been given.

He would risk losing the beautiful smile that was uniquely Chizuru's.

xXx

"You spent the whole night in the woods," the old man said, raising an eyebrow, "but you couldn't stop, in the woods, to pick up a damn stump, could you?"

Kenji bit back a sarcastic retort, settling with, "Yes, Master. I apologize." He hated it; replying in such a tone made him feel nothing more than monotonous. To this reply, Hiko snorted irritably, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Whatever. Get cooking," he snapped, pointing to the cabin. Kenji's jaw dropped.

"Excuse me... what?" he croaked. Hiko rolled his eyes, jabbing a finger to the cabin behind him.

"Get cooking, stupid pupil!" he snapped. Upon seeing Kenji's dumbfounded look, the thirteenth master's eyes narrowed. "...You do know how to cook, right?"

"I... I..." Kenji stuttered, struggling to catch his voice. "I assumed that you knew how."

A silence fell upon the two. Chizuru, growing uncomfortable with the tension in the air, shifted from foot to foot. Finally, Hiko sighed, rubbing a hand across his face.

"...I am your superior," he drawled. "True, I may be amazing at swordsmanship. I may have terribly good looks, but if there's one thing I lack, it's the ability to cook." He stopped; when he caught site of Kenji's unbelieving face, he snorted. "How else do you think your stupid father learned how to cook? While he was wandering?" To this, Kenji nodded dumbly. "Feh. He would have died one week in."

Were Kenji inclined to speak like his father, he would have oro'd. Instead, he bit his tongue, forcing himself to remember exactly why he was here and how much Hiten Mitsurugi would help in the end. "How did you survive all those years without my father, then?"

"One learns how to manipulate people in Kyoto. Some people who own and in owe me; they bring me food once a month, but I'm getting sick of the same thing. Cook something."

"Good morning..." A weary voice murmured, and the three of them turned in the direction of the cabin. Mana had walked out, decked in naught but a sleeping yukata, wiping the sleep from her eyes and yawning. Upon realizing that everybody around her was suspiciously quiet, she stopped, eyes wide. "What?"

"Mana-ne, we need breakfast," Chizuru mumbled, stepping forward and dragging her sister into the cabin. Mana did not so much as squeak in reply. Hiko and Kenji stared at each other, dumbfounded. Chizuru stopped abruptly; turning, she faced the man that was old enough to be her grandfather and the boy that she was learning more about every day. "Boys, if you can just sit patiently and promise not to fight, I'll make sure you get dessert." Then she slammed the door. Kenji felt like a child who had been spanked, scolded, and sent off to bed. Hiko merely snorted.

"Reminds me of your mother," he muttered, then sat on the bench next to the fire. He plucked a cup from the embers, eyeing it critically. Kenji, hesitant to do anything that might ruin his master's temporary mood, remained where he stood. Hiko turned from his cup, staring at the boy for a moment. He quirked an eyebrow irritably. "My favorite stool may be gone, but I suppose you can sit on the ground. It won't do anything to harm your..." He looked the boy from head to toe, noting the obvious dirt with distaste. "...predicament." Kenji suppressed a groan and sat - somewhat nervously - next to the man.

"Thank you," he finally said. Hiko merely sighed, as if the idea of training another pupil bored him, and rotated the cup in his hands, eyeing the clay surface critically.

"Don't," he almost snapped. "If I see anything your father showed me - a willingness to join a conflict in order to bring some false idea of salvation - I will dismiss you. I don't want you coming back to me in a few years, begging for me to forgive you for some stupid mistake. If only for the sake of showing your father what a dumbass he made, I'll beat you over the head a few times before dropping you."

"You needn't worry," Kenji said coolly, turning his gaze to the embers. "I have no intention of becoming my father." When thinking about his own words, he realized that he did not understand himself; there were many sides to his father. What one was he trying to avoid? The killer? The kind, gentle rurouni? Was there even a difference? As the young Himura stared into the dying flames, watching the tongues of red and yellow collide, he realized that he, like Yousaku, preferred amber to blue.

"Guilty until proven innocent," the older man returned cryptically. "You're a child; you don't know your intentions." And before Kenji could argue, he handed him the cup. "Paint something on it, and give it to that girl."

The young Himura stared at the cup, wanting both to accept it and reject it; embarrassment and indignance kept him from wanting to give it to Chizuru, but a bolder side of him didn't care in the least. What gave off those vibes, anyway? As far as he could tell, the only tension the two projected was that of anger. And this was only from his point of view. What would Chizuru think? She was independent, free-spirited... being told that she belonged to anyone would anger her, and in a more serious situation, break her. He had just formed a shaky friendship with the girl. He didn't want anyone - least of all her - assuming that he was possessive.

Chizuru was more angering than endearing. She was constantly tottering on the line between rage and bliss. She was not beautiful; even Ayame and Suzume, who were a few years his senior and constantly flirted or doted, were more attractive. But neither was she ugly. For everything Kenji would find attractive about a woman, Chizuru was the opposite of it. But even so, their interaction earlier had been strange. If anything, it was a miracle that they had managed not to argue. Kenji did not know how he had managed to keep his half.

"You're reading too much into this, boy. It's just a cup."

Kenji nodded mutely, his train of thought shattered. He took the clay item in his hands, feeling the warmth it gave off. His facial features made no change as he looked it over, but in his mind, Chizuru was happily thanking him for the present. He shook his head, a frown marring his face. He was reading into it too much.

It was, after all, just a cup.

xXx

"Where were you, Chizuru-ne?" Mana questioned, her eyes reflecting the worry she had felt earlier. Chizuru looked at her sister blankly, shrugging.

"I had to go to the bathroom," she said. It wasn't a lie. A blush colored her face as she attempted to cut the vegetables into perfect pieces. "And I... got lost."

"Oh," Mana murmured, looking back to her own portion of vegetables. Her pieces were perfectly even, and she continued as if it were no problem at all. Chizuru stared enviously at her, then sighed. She was not a bad cook - their mother had taught them a good deal of womanly habits before certain events had caused her to pass on - but she was nothing in comparison to her sister. Where Mana delighted in arranging flowers and cooking meals, Chizuru was clumsy and unorganized. The only thing remotely feminine she could do was tie the knot on her obi. Other than that, she was more manly than womanly. It was embarrassing.

"Chizuru-ne, the chunks are getting a little uneven..."

"Oh," said sister murmured, looking down to the mangled vegetables. She swore under her breath as she slowly attempted to get herself back on track. Mana voiced her approval quietly; she knew of her prowess in the kitchen, but she was never one to brag. Instead of doing so, she kept a vigilant eye on her sister, pointing out her mistakes and helping her to correct them.

"And Kenji-san found you?"

"Yeah..." Chizuru answered casually, her focus slowly going from the food to the boy in question. Had she been paying more attention, she would have noticed the small smile curling Mana's lips.

"You seem much more friendly with him than you did earlier."

Something akin to a whimper tore from Chizuru's lip as the knife, controlled by her suddenly sweaty fingers, jumped from the vegetables and nicked her forefinger. Her brows knitted together as she winced slightly, caught off guard. Mana made to move towards her, but she held up a hand, sucking on her finger.

"I-I'm so sorry," Mana croaked, her eyes large with worry. Chizuru plucked the wounded finger from her mouth, gripping it with her hand with enough pressure to stop the blood.

"It's nothing, Mana-ne," she said casually. Then, upon remembering why she had cut herself in the first place, her eyes narrowed. "Why do people make those assumptions?"

"Assumptions?"

"In this era, you're either a whore or you have to belong to somebody," the other sister spat, releasing her finger to find her hand caked in blood. She rolled her eyes and re-applied the pressure, mentally scolding herself for releasing the cut so quickly. "If you're neither of these things, it makes you eligible for some scum-faced ass to--" She cut herself off, stiffening. "Sorry, Mana-ne. I didn't mean to be crude."

"It's who you are," Mana said simply, her smile returning. "I wouldn't want my sister any other way." Chizuru cocked an eyebrow, but smiled nonetheless; Mana's words, even though they sounded a little corny, were comforting. Her sister, who was so innocent and yet knew of many terrible things that happened to her, was speaking the only way she really could: without a trace of sin. Chizuru often found herself taking great wonder at her sister. Mana continued, "I'm sorry. My remark threw you off."

"Your remar--..." Chizuru cut herself off as something between anger and embarrassment tinged her cheeks a pink color. "Whatever. I'm just... sick of arguing, you know?" Mana nodded good-naturedly. Chizuru's voice became more determined as she spoke. "What's wrong with trying to be friends with him? If he's been looking after you, he must not be all that bad." As she said the last words, Chizuru felt her throat go dry. Could they really trust Kenji? But even as she thought of doubts, they were banished; as far as Mana was concerned, she had bumped into a boy who would soon become her greatest friend.

"Do you deserve friends?"

Chizuru's eyes snapped wide open, and she glanced over to her sister, who was pleasantly gathering the chopped vegetables and bringing the boiling water over from the fire. It took her a moment to realize that it had not been her sister talking, but her own conscience. The young Raikoji released her finger from her iron grip; the blood had clotted and stopped, but the tourniquet itself was smeared with crimson. Before her sister could question her actions, Chizuru turned and briskly left the cabin. Mana protested weakly, confusion flickering in her eyes; she was about to follow, but when she saw a confused Kenji rise and follow, she stopped.

'Chizuru-ne...'

Chizuru took off at a surprisingly quick walk, despite the restrictions her muddy kimono offered and the obvious limp to her injured ankle. Kenji, surprised with her sudden departure, allowed no room for Hiko's remarks. He stood abruptly and followed. His ears vaguely registered a snort from behind him, but he dismissed it.

"Chizuru!" he called, but she did not answer. She merely continued to plow noisily through the foliage, taking no notice of her surroundings. Kenji heard her swear once or twice after stumbling, but other than that, she moved along without hindrance. "Chizuru!" Again she did not answer, and Kenji sucked in his breath with great irritation. How was it that he could not keep up with her? Yousaku was faster, and yet the thrill of the hunt always had him keeping up. For a brief moment, he dared himself into thinking that the girl ahead of him was some sort of prey, and his speed dramatically increased; he clamped his hand around her wrist in an iron grip. "What's going on?"

"...Let go, Kenji," she simply said. There was no emotion in her voice - no anger, irritation, not the pathetic sobs he had found himself expecting - it was merely firm, commanding. Kenji found his grip suddenly slackening, but he did nothing to stop it from leaving her wrist. Chizuru did not meet his eyes.

"You shouldn't run around on that ankle," he finally said, breaking the silence. "If you leave it alone, it will take a day or two of limping, but you'll be fine--"

"What do you care?" she snapped, whirling around to meet him. Her eyes were vaguely angry, but underneath her anger was obvious confusion. The question was partial sarcasm, but it was also sincere. "I don't even know you."

Kenji was caught a bit off guard by these words, but he was silent; he feared that the wrong words would send her off on another tirade. But it seemed that if his words would not satisfy her, then neither would his silence. Chizuru's hands balled into fists and shook as she stared at him, trying in vain to uncover the falseness she had been trying to find ever since she had met him. Upon realizing that she could not find it but still expected it, Kenji's stomach twisted with guilt; it was there, as she had been expecting. But she couldn't pinpoint his secret. As he thought this, he watched her eyes dull just slightly, as if in defeat; she lowered her head.

"I... I don't get you, Kenji," she muttered. "I hate that."

"You can be just as confusing," he countered, slightly defensive. He heard something of a broken laugh escape the girl.

"A fine pair we are," she murmured. When she saw his eyes widen just slightly, she flushed and waved a hand. "Not like that, moron."

"You could have fooled me."

"What? Would you like it that way?" she shot back. Her eyes widened as she once again registered the meaning of her words. She looked away, irritation and embarrassment shining clearly on her features. Had Kenji been in a better mood, he would have sneered, but he found himself more confused than relieved. Why had she run off in the first place?

"You're behaving strangely," he offered blandly, to which the girl laughed again.

"Observant, aren't you?"she said dryly. The smile she wore was tinged with sadness. Although it not the sadness he dreaded - the one that would bring him forth red-handed and brand him a traitor - it was still unnerving. Kenji took a hesitant step forward, to which Chizuru took two more. The young Himura sighed; if they continued this, they would be half-way down the mountain by noon.

"Chizuru," he said firmly, to which she stopped moving entirely. There was no reply, save for the sigh she gave, accompanied by a slight inclining of her head. Her fists unclenched as if in defeat. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I... I don't know," she muttered, turning and staring back at him. "But I just... I'm not a good person," she finally settled with, bundling the fabric of her sullied kimono in her hands. "I want you to know that."

'I know that,' he thought sadly; it was not that he was berating her, but he could already sense what she was planning on saying. He already knew what she was leading up to. Chizuru, it seemed, was not going to pity him.

"How much do you know about Mana-ne and myself?" she questioned hesitantly. "How much did she tell you?"

"Tell me?" he finally managed, his stony features masking his shame. "Not much, but... something about you being on the run." He could not believe himself; it was as if the words were already on his tongue, waiting to leap off without consent from the mouth from which they were born. He loathed his own lack of control.

"I guess I better tell you, then," she murmured, averting her eyes to the ground. "Since you... you've been kind to my sister. You've guarded her, and for that, I'm grateful." Her words were nervous, yet sounded so mechanical. But she pressed on. "Kenji..."

'Shut up,' he wanted to scream, but he held his tongue. 'I don't want to hear you confess this sort of thing to me.'

"...It's not just a bunch of punks my sister and I are running from," she began nervously. "It's some sort of... organization... but I can't say I know the name. But they're smart, and they have their eyes set on a different Japan." A silence descended upon the two; Kenji took a moment to realize that Chizuru was waiting for some sort of reaction. Any person who had not been informed of such things earlier (by the people running this "organization") would have thought her crazy. Was that what she was expecting from him?

"Oh," he finally said, to which the Raikoji girl exhaled in something between a sigh of relief and irritation.

"Now you're quiet," she muttered, but before he could interject, she continued. "Whatever. That's not important. What is important is that Mana-ne and I have information... information they want. But because we haven't given anything away yet - well, bits and pieces, probably, but nothing really worth it - they've kept us around."

"What kind of information?" Kenji finally questioned, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Chizuru's blue orbs left his, preferring to meet with the unquestioning ground; she shifted uncomfortably, tight-lipped. He suddenly realized that this was, indeed, a great trouble for her. How long had she kept this secret? And from whom? What methods had been used to ingrain this information into their minds? The last few questions caused him to add the question, "Who told you?"

"Our... our father," she murmured, obviously glad to have an easier question to answer. But even the way she spoke of her father suggested she despised him. The curl of her lip, the narrowing of her eyes; everything advertised bitterness. "And he was in no way kind when telling us." Her eyes widened as she spoke; she clapped a hand to her mouth, as if to forestall the inevitable, but she had already spoken. Kenji neared her questioningly.

"What did he do?"

"Nothing," she muttered, but upon catching his eyes - intensely questioning, refusing to relent - she let out another sigh. She attempted to escape the situation, "Let's go back for breakfast--"

"Tell me. Now," he ordered, to which her eyes flared with brief anger.

"Mana-ne was always a little frail, but Father made it worse," she hissed, evading details. "If he hadn't interfered with her health, she would be nearly as healthy as me. But I--" She paused for a second, referring to herself with a great deal of disgust, "I'm supposedly traumatized. Good ol' Daddy preferred the mental game with me. I can't stand the quiet... I can't stand that, or dark, closed places. It will suffocate me." Although it was obvious that she was trying to say this casually, there was a slight hitch to her voice. Her anger dropped from her features, suggesting something a bit more sad; Kenji knew what she was going to say, and felt dread clawing at him. "In the group - the one that's after the information Father gave us - I... I'm not a pure maiden, you might say." There was no blush. No suggestion that she was embarrassed. She was sickened with herself. The last words were a murmur, "I'm disgusting."

"You..." Kenji began, eager to challenge her words. "You're not... you don't disgust me." When her eyes widened and she stared at him, he hurriedly added, "Not that way. You can be annoying, and you're too stubborn, but I..." He, too, averted his eyes. But his actions were out of embarrassment, rather than disgust. "I can't be sickened by you."

Chizuru stared at him for a moment; it was obvious enough that she had been expecting a different reaction. Kenji felt a jab of hurt run through him - was he that untrustworthy? - but he bit back any offending words. He had spoken the truth. Her mouth formed an "O" for a split second as she searched for words, but she finally managed to say something, although inaudible. Kenji quirked an eyebrow, confused.

"I... thanks," she finally mumbled. Her eyes flashed again as she looked up, "Not that I'm whining." Kenji indulged himself with a small smile as he gently gripped her shoulder, leading her back towards the cabin. It was in no way a pleasant means of leading her; both were as tense as they could possibly be. But neither broke the contact.

As they continued to walk back, the young Himura realized that Chizuru had cleverly evaded his first question: What exactly had they been told? What kind of information could be so important that it endangered Japan? As Kenji pondered such things, he reasoned with himself. It was probably not Japan that was in danger of falling; no, rather, the Japanese government. The era of Meiji was still considerably weak. The men who had torn it down were just beginning to realize that giving birth to a new era was much more difficult than killing the old one.

'Do I even want to know what they've been told?' he thought suddenly. If all the information were surrendered to him, neither Mana or Chizuru would be of any use to the organization he was working for. He chanced a look at the girl; she glanced back, eyes questioning his. He looked away. These people he worked for... was their goal a better Japan? A stronger one? It was a tempting ideal. But what of the Raikoji sisters? Was he willing to risk the shaky friendship he had worked to build?

"I'm disgusting."

'No, Chizuru. You have no idea how pure you are,' he thought darkly. It was he who was sickening; he, who would one day betray these people in favor of their enemies. In favor of the people who had wronged them so horribly. Someone who had been abused in the name of satisfying another's lust was in no way disgusting. 'You should be sickened by me.'

"...thanks."

Kenji banished her words from his mind, narrowing his eyes. Her appreciation was unconditional. It was wrong. 'You're naivete may very well be your undoing... that, or your courage.'

But he knew, deep in his his mind, that it would be his false friendship that would break her.

to be continued...

A/N: The beginning of the chapter was random, but the insane thought of Rei going to China at such a young age brought on my thoughts: How many children are forced to fight? It's a really sad thought, and although it probably doesn't happen much where I come from, it does happen. I'm not trying to get back at you reviewers in any way; I love getting reviews, believe me. A great majority of authors like getting reviews.

I'm really glad I was finally able to get some Kenji/Chizuru time in, there:D I hope to deepen their relationship, but I'm going to put plenty of obstacles in their way. I'm too mean to give them a completely happy ending (and believe me, the ending is NOT near. Sorry).

I'm really glad that some of you dislike Kenji's attitude; it makes him seem a little more human to me, but I do intend on punishing him. Funny, isn't it? The authoress gets away with writing bad things on the characters, and it's the characters that get the punishment. Hu hu hu... :K I HOPE to put a little action in the next chapter, but I'm not guaranteeing anything.