A/n: And we're back.

I have changed the update schedule slightly: instead of updating every week, I will be updating every two weeks, so that Invictus and Vaster Than Empires will each be updated once a month. I'm not going to have the kind of free time I did in the spring, and this will allow me to get quality chapters out on a regular schedule.

See you on the 24th (which is also my birthday!) for the next installment of Vaster Than Empires!

Something had changed, and Yahiko didn't know what to do about it.

It wasn't just that Kenshin had stopped calling Kaoru mistress, although that was certainly a change and a good one; it made Yahiko think that maybe Megumi had been right after all, and somehow what they were doing was working. But it wasn't only that and it wasn't only Kenshin who had changed. Kaoru hardly ever raised her voice anymore, even when he called her ugly. Sano barely spoke, only brooded about with his hands thrust in his pockets. Megumi acted like nothing was different at all, until you saw her eyes: there was something there like old tree branches.

And lately he'd begun to feel too big for his skin, like something inside him was trying to grow past the borders of flesh and bone, and that wasn't a bad feeling, exactly. Except that the same something was itching in the back of his throat and he didn't know how to let it out, this thing that felt like standing on the edge of a cliff and looking down to see waves pounding on the rocks.

He'd sworn to himself the first time Kaoru put a wooden sword in his hands that he would never, ever be helpless again. That he would learn how to fight and the next time someone came and tried to take what was his – to hurt the people and the places he loved – they wouldn't be able to. He'd stop them. He'd make them pay.

And he'd made Kihei pay, in blood and bruises and flinching terror.

So why didn't it feel good?

Kihei had been a wretched slug of a man, more than halfway to monster. He'd tried to hurt Kaoru. He'd attacked Yahiko's home. He'd –

He'd looked utterly pathetic, lying on the muddy ground and whimpering. And later, in the courtroom, twitching and flinching and cowering away, with his scrapes barely healed and bruises turning a sickly yellow-brown. Yahiko had remembered, then, something that Kaoru had said offhandedly once a long time ago, quoting her father, about how monsters were always smaller in the sunlight. It should have pleased him to think that he had made this monster small but it didn't: it made him feel small himself, and sick inside.

But Kihei wouldn't have let something like that stop him, he'd argued with himself, and as soon as he'd thought it a quiet voice had said back but aren't you supposed to be better than Kihei?

The sword that protects. He'd thought he understood what it meant – in order to protect someone, you have to be strong, right? – but as he'd stood in the courtroom with Sano glowering over his shoulder (and Sano was strong, and Sano hadn't been there and what good did strength do anyone if you weren't there?) he'd thought that maybe he hadn't understood at all.

Yahiko sighed, resting his head against the porch pillar, and watched Kenshin calmly drawing a bucket of water from the well. The day had been bright and almost as warm as a proper spring; the sun was still half-hidden under the clouds, but at least it had shown its face. Now evening was coming in, and the sun was beginning its downward arc towards the horizon. The air was calm, and smelled like new growth.

Kaoru and Sano had been gone since lunch, and warned him not to expect them back until after dark. So he'd grabbed some takeout from the Akabeko, enough for both him and Kenshin, and managed to get home before Kenshin started cooking. Kenshin had stiffened when Yahiko told him to leave off and laid out the meal, relaxing just the slightest hair when Yahiko had grabbed his own portion and gestured for Kenshin to take the rest. He'd retreated into the kitchen to eat, but at least he'd eaten. Yahiko had been half-afraid that he'd accidentally trampled over one of the hundred and ten bizarre rules that constrained the older man, but he'd cooked every night that he was physically able and it was about time that he had a break.

Kenshin carried the bucket into the kitchen: when he came back out, he paused for a moment, eyes shaded by his long red hair. Then he went and knelt at the side of what was supposed to be a garden but was really just an overgrown corner of the courtyard that Kaoru hadn't had the time to do anything about. He studied the ground for a long moment, long enough that Yahiko decided to amble over and see what was going on.

"What's up?" he asked, crouching down next to Kenshin. Kenshin's head lowered a little further, and Yahiko thought he saw his shoulders rise up, as if he was preparing to flinch away.

"Miss Kaoru instructed this worthless one to maintain the house in good order," he said, after a pause.

Yahiko considered this, glancing out at the weedy garden patch. More weed than garden, really – but as far as he knew Kaoru hadn't actually told Kenshin to tend to the garden, not in so many words…

So maybe this was something Kenshin had decided to do himself? He'd been making choices for a while now, but only when prompted; as far as Yahiko knew, this was the first time he'd indicated that he wanted to do something on his own. If he was, in fact, doing that. Maybe Kaoru had told him to see to the garden.

Then again, did it really matter what Kaoru might have told Kenshin to do?

He knew that it did, at least to Kenshin – but it shouldn't, and that felt more important.

"I think there's some garden tools in the storehouse, up in the loft," he said, standing. "You want me to go get them?"

Kenshin bowed hurriedly to him, starting to get up. "This worthless one will – "

"No, no," Yahiko waved and Kenshin paused, startled. "It's a really good idea. I want to help." Yahiko started toward the storehouse, calling back over his shoulder. "You figure out where to start, okay? I'll get the tools."

The garden tools were where Yahiko remembered them being, rolled up in cloth in the loft behind a stack of broken training dummies in various stages of repair and a disassembled rack of some kind. They were set next to a small box, one that Yahiko didn't remember, that was marked with a family crest that Yahiko didn't recognize. Although he had the strongest feeling that he should.

He traced the crest, frowning. A thick, horizontal line, and three dots beneath, balanced in an inverted pyramid. It looked familiar. Really familiar. And the box wasn't nearly dust-covered enough to have been in the loft for long. No one ever cleaned up here: everything in the loft was either broken or too rarely needed to bother with storing in the main room. But he'd never seen anything with that mark on it in either the house or the training hall before.

It wasn't very big – not much larger than a soup pot – but it was heavy, as he discovered when he picked it up and gave it an exploratory rattle. Something jangled and clinked inside it – many somethings, small and metallic and frankly sounding an awful lot like money. He'd never been a very good cat burglar, but he had been an excellent pickpocket and he'd swiped enough full purses to know the sound of hard cash.

What was a very full box of money doing in Kaoru's loft? It could all be spare change or nails or something else innocuous, he supposed… but there was a seal around the edge, and a lock, and – the whole thing just seemed suspicious.

Yahiko put the box carefully back where he'd found it, doing his best to hide where the dust had been disturbed, and climbed down the ladder with the cloth-wrapped tools tucked under one arm. Kenshin was standing in the center of the storehouse, holding himself too still.

"They're kinda rusty. Is that okay?" Yahiko asked, a little hesitant. It was hard, talking to Kenshin: the thought of speaking to him the way Kaoru did made him feel sick. The way Kaoru had to, he reminded himself, because she was the mistress and there were rules and Megumi had explained that Kenshin couldn't be forced into breaking the rules he'd been bound with. He had to break them on his own, or he'd be too scared to function. All they could do was show him that it would be safe if he did.

But even knowing all that, it still felt wrong.

He wondered how Kaoru could stand it.

Yahiko held out the rolled-up cloth and Kenshin took it, unrolling it and looking over the tools with bowed head and slumped shoulders. He still had a tendency to collapse in on himself, but it had grown markedly less over the past few weeks. Ever since he and Kaoru come back from Kanryu's manor (whole and sane and Yahiko hadn't realized until they were safely home how bone-scared he'd been of things that he still didn't dare name, even in the privacy of his nightmares).

"…forgive this worthless one for troubling you, young master," Kenshin said carefully, and swallowed hard.

"It's not troubling." Yahiko turned slightly away, idly wrenching a half-dislodged slat of the ladder into place. "It's my home too, y'know."

Kenshin bowed his head at that, turned, and left. Yahiko followed, mulling over the box. If it was money, it was a lot of it, more than Kaoru made in a year. It could be something else, maybe, but he couldn't imagine what else would make that distinctive sound. Kaoru would have been over the moon if she'd lucked into a windfall like that, so she must not know about it. So who could have left it there?

He cast an uneasy glance over to Kenshin as the older man knelt again at the edge of the garden patch. It couldn't be someone trying to frame Kaoru again, could it? The Hiruma brothers were in jail, after all; then again, that didn't mean they didn't have allies somewhere. And they were the kind of nasty-minded little creeps who'd seek revenge, even if – hell, especially if – they were beaten by the rules of their own game.

Yahiko shook his head. There wasn't anything he could do about it now. He'd ask Kaoru about it when she got back.

Instead of fretting, he sat down on the ground next to Kenshin and watched for a moment. Kenshin was pulling up weeds with a careful, methodical efficiency. He'd hidden his eyes behind his bangs again, and Yahiko thought he saw a quaver in his fingers as he dug them deep into the soil, curling them around a particularly stubborn set of roots.

"So, are we just pulling everything up?"

Kenshin started, then finished pulling up the weed and set it on the small pile that he'd accumulated.

"…no, young master," he said, and Yahiko could see the effort that it took: there was a dreadful tension in Kenshin's jaw that he'd only seen once before, on the day that the policemen had come and tried to take him away.

"Can you show me what not to pull up?"

Another almost-twitch, and Kenshin rose silently to his feet. He pointed to a handful of plants, easily distinguishable from the weeds.

"Okay," Yahiko said, and slid himself over to the other side of the garden. "You get that side, I'll get this side, and we'll meet in the middle. And – um – " He fidgeted. "You know, you don't have to call me 'young master' and stuff. Just Yahiko's fine. I mean, if that's okay."

Kenshin stilled again, for a single long heartbeat – and Yahiko was certain he'd overstepped somehow, broken some rule that he hadn't been told about and hadn't managed to suss out on his own – but then, slowly, Kenshin sank back down.

"As you wish, young sir. Ya – Yahiko. Sir Yahiko."

He began to weed again, and Yahiko thought that he saw something move in Kenshin's face, something that wasn't quite a smile, but it wanted to be.

The ground was softer then Yahiko thought it would be. There was some resistance at first, but there was rich, wet soil under the hard-packed surface, and he was surprised to discover a certain pleasure in working the earth by hand. Well, mostly hand – weeds had to come out by the roots, and sometimes the roots went deep. But there was a tool for that, and it was easy to get the trick of digging down and loosening the greedy things, cutting through minor capillaries to extract the largest part. He wasn't sure why he didn't need to worry about those smaller veins shooting off from the main trunk, but Kenshin seemed to know what he was doing and he'd shaken his head when Yahiko had asked what to do about them. So Yahiko figured that meant that they didn't matter.

He didn't really know anything about gardens, or any kind of planting or growing. He was samurai, after all, and even though he'd been a pickpocket and a street rat, too – even though his family had fallen into debt and been disgraced, losing their position among the shōgun's thousands of retainers – he had never stopped being samurai. You didn't, no matter how far you fell. And samurai didn't grow things. That was peasant work.

It was kind of nice, though. Not fun, exactly, because it was hard work, but a kind of warm, solid feeling started filling up his chest as he watched the clear space slowly growing from the edges of the plot into the middle of the tangled chaos, raw earth all churned up black and ready for planting.

Kenshin had cleared a lot more ground than he had. Yahiko sat back on his heels, studying him for a moment. Kenshin worked calmly, steadily, without fuss – he did everything without fuss. The only times Yahiko had ever seen him rattled were during the whole thing with the Hirumas. First when Kihei had tried to buy him, and for a brief moment after Gohei's assault. Yahiko had knelt down at Kaoru's side and Kenshin had looked at Yahiko, with a crack in his eyes like a broken mirror. Someone had been looking out from those eyes, someone altogether more wounded and afraid than the cipher Kenshin normally was.

Maybe that was the person Kaoru always saw, when she looked at him.

Kenshin raised his head, as if he'd heard Yahiko's thoughts. Then he looked towards the gate.

"Miss Kaoru is returning, young master," he said flatly, and gathered the uprooted weeds in his arms. Yahiko followed suit, dumping his weeds in a pile against the wall along with Kenshin's. Kenshin spun around as soon as he'd dealt with his armful, almost – but not quite – hurrying to the gate.

"Kenshin!" Kaoru sounded happy to be home, happy to see them: yet her eyes were remote. "And Yahiko. I didn't think you two would still be outside at this hour."

The sun was almost under the horizon, but here was plenty of light to see by, and would be for another hour or so.

"We were clearing that old garden patch," Yahiko said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the right general direction. "It was Kenshin's idea."

Kenshin was holding himself too still again. Kaoru glanced past them, to the garden, and smiled – and this was a real one. Yahiko had seen enough of her false ones lately to know the difference.

"Really? That's great! It's about time someone did something with that old patch."

A subtle exhale, and Kenshin's calm returned. More than calm: he seemed to lean into her space the same way that a tree's leaves slowly turned to follow the sun. It made Yahiko's throat clench with things he had no words for, no words that mattered, anyway. Anything he could think to say would sound like he blamed Kaoru for this, when it wasn't her fault. He knew as well as anyone did what it cost her to give Kenshin even this much peace.

"I thought you and Sano weren't going to be back 'til later," he continued.

"We're not back," she said, starting towards the storehouse. "I'm just stopping here to get something. You shouldn't bother waiting up, either of you – we're going to be out pretty late."

"How late?" Yahiko called, alarmed at her brisk pace. She was honing in on the storehouse like an angry wasp, and her shoulders were tight as a fraying rope under her jacket. Her wooden sword was at her side, and she was wearing hakama over her kimono. Kenshin trotted behind her like a dog at heel and Yahiko felt another little twist in his gut at the comparison.

"Late!" she called back, opening the door. "Don't worry! It's alright, Kenshin, I don't need any help," she said quickly as he started to follow her in. "We'll be back before morning, okay?"

The door slid shut. Yahiko frowned and started walking towards the storehouse. Kenshin stood at the top of the stairs, waiting, and before Yahiko could even get halfway across the yard the door opened again and Kaoru emerged with a small wooden box in her arms. There was a mark on the box: a family crest of one thick horizontal lines and three dots beneath, balanced in an inverted pyramid.

Yahiko's stomach dropped.

"What'd you need to get?" he asked, too-casually, but Kaoru didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, just something of Sano's," she breezed, heading back towards the gate and tucking the small, narrow box into her jacket. "Nothing important, just some old stuff he promised to keep safe for a friend while he was out of the country. And now the friend's back, so Sano has to hand it over."

"And that's going to take all night?"

"Well, you know how Sano is when he's meeting old friends. They'll be at it until sunrise. And he really wants me to meet this guy – I think he's trying to set me up." An exasperated look crossed her face. "Honestly. As if I have the time."

Yahiko responded automatically, with a jab about her looks or her weight or her lack of womanly graces, and it got the desired response because he had to dodge a smack as she went out the gate. But he didn't know what he'd said: his mind was static and his veins were ice because Kaoru was lying. She was good – really good, considering that he didn't think she'd ever really lied before – but she'd never had to lie for her life and he had. He'd needed to make others trust him, and know who to trust, in order to survive.

She was lying to him. Something was happening, something big, and she didn't think she could trust him to know the truth about it.

"Hell with that," he muttered, and looked around the dojo with a thief's eyes. He couldn't just follow her out the gate; she might notice. But there was a tree growing by the wall nearby…

It was the work of moments to climb it, and he saw her vanishing into the distance towards the bay. The gap between the branch and the wall was nothing: he could have crossed it blindfolded and one-handed. And if she thought she was going to get into trouble, maybe get hurt, maybe killed and that he was going to just let that happen without even –

Well. He was the man of the house, after all.

Yahiko balanced on the top of the wall, preparing to jump, when a soft voice called up to him from the courtyard.

"Young sir."

Kenshin. Yahiko looked down to see the older man standing loosely at the foot of the tree, looking up at him with a wide gaze that was almost worried.

"Don't worry," Yahiko told him. "I know she's up to something, too. I won't let anything happen to her. It'll be okay."

Then he jumped off the wall and headed after Kaoru.

He didn't look back: if he had, he would have seen – after a long, fraught pause – a blur of brown and red as Kenshin jumped the wall in one swift movement and followed.

It was easy to tail Kaoru: after all, she didn't think she was being followed. Yahiko's stomach got smaller and smaller as the neighborhood got worse and worse. She was aiming for the docks, and for the old docks, too – not the shining, well-patrolled harbors used by foreign ships and dignitaries. No Western trade ever came to these piers, just old fisherman, set in their ways, and local merchants who couldn't afford better berth or didn't want to. It was the last place that someone like Kaoru should ever go. The silk clothes and bright ribbon that marked her as a woman of status and worthy of respect in her own neighborhood made her nothing but a target, here.

At least she seemed to know it. Her stride lengthened and her back straightened as she walked along, looking neither right nor left, her hand resting carefully on the hilt of her wooden sword. Most of the scum slunk out of her way, unwilling to take a chance on someone who walked with that much confidence, but enough of them eyed her with growing speculation that Yahiko's fist clenched helplessly. He hoped that she'd meet up with Sano soon.

Her destination was a dive bar in the middle of the neighborhood, just a block or so away from the water. Smokey light poured through the slatted windows out into the street, along with laughter, the odd feminine squeal and the occasional shrieks of a poorly-tuned shamisen as it reached for the high note and missed. She slid inside; a minute later, she and Sano emerged, his arm draped carelessly around her shoulders. They might have looked like lovers slinking off into the night in search of somewhere more private, if you didn't see the wary caution on both their faces.

Yahiko let them get a little further away before he resumed his tail. Sano was good, really good, and he'd need to be more careful now.

They made their way down to the water's edge and started wandering out of town, far past the streetlights and even the pretense of respectability. It took Yahiko a few minutes to realize where they were headed, and as soon as he did everything fell into place.

Even before the country had been opened to Western trade there had been smugglers in Edo Bay. There were more, now that trade was so unregulated, but they still used the same old landing points and the police still turned the same blind eye, as long as the bribes were paid and nobody stepped over any lines. Kaoru and Sano were headed towards one of the more secure spots, one Yahiko was fairly sure that even the police didn't know about. Which explained the box full of money, but didn't explain anything else. What would Kaoru want from smugglers? Where did she get the money to pay them? And what was Sano – no, he was probably helping her. After all, how would she know how to contact smugglers without him…?

But why was he helping her? It had to be something important to her, really important. Otherwise Sano would have talked her out of it, or found some other way.

Maybe…

Yahiko swallowed, throat suddenly dry and swollen tight with things he couldn't afford to feel right now. Maybe something had happened, that day that she and Kenshin went to Kanryu's manor. And – well, she'd said, when Kenshin first came to stay with them, that she might have to leave the country – so maybe – maybe she was arranging passage under the radar so that she and Kenshin couldn't be followed.

But Kaoru would have told him!

Unless she couldn't take him – or it was so important that she couldn't stay no matter what, couldn't even afford to give him a choice of whether to stay or go with her…

Yahiko rubbed furiously at his eyes and kept following, stomach knotting around his spine.

Eventually, the rotted and untended wood of the piers ended and a muddy trail leading up a low, forested cliff began. Sano stopped to light a small, hooded lantern, and then he and Kaoru started up the path. It cast just enough light in front of them to avoid a misstep. Tonight was a smuggler's moon, dark and clouded, and there were no streetlights in the forest.

A light breeze rustled the trees, soft counterpoint to the small waves shushing against the shore. It tugged at Yahiko's clothes and brushed against his hair, smelling of salt and dead fish, and he slid off his sandals and put them inside his shirt to move a little more quietly.

The lantern made Kaoru and Sano easy to follow, if you knew what to look for. The small circle of light bobbed in front of them like a will-o-wisp, not large enough to give away their position – not unless you already knew they were there. They followed the path all the way to the top of the bluff. There was a small clearing there, at the very top, overlooking the ocean and shielded by the forest. Yahiko hung back at the treeline, crawling carefully under a low bush and making sure to darken his clothes with mud and earth as he did so. Then he settled in to wait.

It wasn't long before three men emerged from the edge of a cliff, appearing as if by magic – probably a hidden door of some kind, on that led down to the caves below. Yahiko couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but their actions were clear enough as they stopped just out of Kaoru and Sano's reach. The leader rubbed his fingers together, grinning.

Kaoru reached towards her jacket and Sano stepped quickly in front of her, shaking his head. The leader scowled and crossed his arms. Sano mirrored him, glaring.

A sharp gesture and a barked order. One of the men disappeared again and came back a few heartbeats later, carrying a large box with the help of a fourth. They set it down between their boss and Sano and backed slowly away. The fourth man didn't leave.

Sano waved at the box. The boss waved at his men. One of them came forward with a crowbar and pried off the top, then stepped back to let Sano inspect whatever was inside. He reached his hand in and pulled out a rifle, and Yahiko had to jam his fist into his mouth to stifle his exclamation.

Weapons smuggling. Weapons smuggling! But – why would Kaoru – why would Sano – ?

A twig cracked behind him. He froze, heart thudding an unsteady tattoo against his ribs. His free hand dug into the earth, feeling the grains, horribly reminiscent of the peaceful garden. And, very slowly, he turned his head.

There were men in the forest, armed men, crouching with rifles out and eyes fixed on Kaoru and Sano. And they were definitely not policemen.

Now Sano let Kaoru step up to his side and take out the box of money. The leader took it with an unctuous bow and opened it, checking the contents. A smile slid across his face like scum on an oil slick, and Sano knelt down to pick up his goods.

Slowly, carefully, Yahiko pulled himself into a crouch and got his toes gripping the ground, tensing to bolt. The armed men could just be insurance, in case the deal went wrong for the smugglers. Or they could be something else entirely. He fixed his eyes on the smuggler's leader, afraid to blink even for a moment.

The leader said something. Kaoru turned, surprise written on her features even in the dim lantern light. He touched her sleeve and she let him, damn her: Sano frowned and knocked the man's hand away, shouldering the box of rifles with one arm. He pointed to the money box; the leader shook his head, grinning like the shit-eating pig he was.

Yahiko clenched his hands in the dirt. Sano was angry now, and Kaoru was yanking on his sleeve. She knew as well as Yahiko did what Sano was like when he got going – anger always made him a bit stupid, and this was – not the time to be stupid –

The armed men shifted to a ready position. Yahiko watched the leader, waiting for the signal that had to be coming.

The leader clicked his fingers together, and his men fanned out behind him. Yahiko spared a glance for the riflemen and saw them lifting the guns to their shoulders, saw the low red spark of their flints –

"Sano! Kaoru! It's a trap!"

He exploded from the trees, bullets whizzing past him. One grazed his shoulder. Sano had whirled when he shouted and now he bounded over to the woods, face twisted in a furious snarl. Leaving Kaoru alone. She had her wooden sword out, parrying a blow from the man with the crowbar: she twisted her wrist and the crowbar flew out of his hand. A step forward, and she'd slammed the hilt into his gut. He doubled over, coughing.

Yahiko launched himself at the nearest smuggler, yanking his own bamboo sword off his back. His opponent laughed; then Yahiko slammed the practice blade down on his shoulder and the man's laughter turned into a furious snarl as he clutched his stunned arm. The leader had stepped back: the other two men had joined the one fighting Kaoru. She was surrounded…

"Kenshin!" Kaoru cried, shock in her voice. And suddenly there was a whirlwind in the middle of the melee, red hair whipping in the lamplight and men flying backwards as Kenshin cleared a safe place for Kaoru to stand. Yahiko had a startled moment to wonder where Kenshin had come from – what he was doing here, when he wasn't supposed to leave the dojo without Kaoru's permission – and then the man fighting Yahiko started towards the two of them. Yahiko rapped him hard on the knee.

"You're fighting me!" he cried, but his voice cracked as he remembered the taste of Kihei's blood on his tongue. And that moment of hesitation was one moment too long, as the smuggler grabbed his collar and backhanded him. Light exploded on the side of his face, like fireworks.

"Goddamn brat," he sneered, and hurled Yahiko away. Yahiko landed hard, vision greying at the edges as the air slammed out of his lungs. He struggled to his feet with one eye already bruising shut. Somehow there was a rock in his hand.

"Don't you fucking walk away from me!" he screamed, black fury twisting up his insides. Because everything was wrong – because Kaoru was wrapped up in bad business with evil men and Sano wasn't protecting her and neither of them were talking to him and nothing made sense anymore, and no wonder they weren't taking him seriously when he couldn't get even a single fighting man to consider him a threat – when the only people he could fight were cowards –

He threw the stone. It slammed hard into the back of the man's head and he whirled, advancing with a grim look in his eyes. Yahiko backed up, holding his sword out in front him.

The smuggler looked past him for a second. He smiled.

"Stupid kid," he said, almost kindly, and shoved. Yahiko slid his foot out behind him to catch himself but there was no ground – no ground! – and his stomach lurched as he fell backwards and kept falling, over the edge of the cliff. The world slowed. He saw Kaoru's eyes widen, heard her scream his name – saw Sano suddenly throw the man he was fighting bodily into the other smugglers and race for the edge, saw the crack-fire of the guns going off in painstaking detail –

Too late, he had time to think, and then he hit the water.

Yahiko fell.

Time stopped.

Kaoru screamed.

He disappeared over the edge of the cliff and time started up again. Kaoru raced for the edge, just a step behind Sano, but they were both outpaced by Kenshin – how can a human move that fast? she thought, in the terrified space between heartbeats – as he blurred past them and dove, narrowing himself to a needle's point.

She almost followed him over. Sano caught her around the waist and hauled her backs, ignoring the meaty thud as her heel slammed into his shin.

"The rocks, missy! It's a goddamned miracle if they missed them!"

Kaoru looked again, choking on her aching heart, and saw the jagged, devouring teeth waiting below. She couldn't see Yahiko or Kenshin – couldn't see anything but that terrible stone mangle and the white spray at the wave-tips of the black, surging sea.

"…no," she whimpered, the fight draining from her bones. "Please, please no…"

Sano put her down and she knelt at the cliff's edge, clutching the soil as if she could hold back erosion with her own two hands – as if she could will the inevitable to be otherwise. She heard him cleaning up their little skirmish behind her, cracking the last few heads and ripping cloth to tie them to one another. She didn't know what he planned to do with them and she didn't care, either. Every molecule of her being was straining to see clearly in the faint starlight, searching for some human sign in the glittering waves.

There. Was that seaweed or – no, it was Kenshin's head breaking the surface, the quick flash of his face as he gasped for air and dove back under. She held her breath with him until her limbs shook and spots bloomed in her eyes like roses – Kanryu's roses – beautiful, monstrous things –

He surfaced again, and this time she saw Yahiko's head tucked under his arm. She didn't stop to watching him swim to shore.

She ran, heart ramming in her chest, her throat, pulsing through her limbs like a bloody, terrified drum. Branches tore and snatched at her hair and clothes as she plunged heedless off the path and scrambled down the cliffside, pebbles tearing through her skin. She made it to the beach at the same time they did, stumbling a little as she hit flat ground, and used the tripping momentum to catapult herself to where Kenshin had collapsed halfway out of the breakers, cradling Yahiko in his arms. The sea surged up behind him, covering him to his waist with every wave. It left greedy fingers as it pulled away, as though it yearned to coax them both back in.

"Yahiko!"

Kaoru fell to her knees beside them, taking Yahiko gently from Kenshin's arms. Kenshin coughed, spitting up a handful of seawater: a trickle ran down his chin as he pulled himself up to kneel beside her.

"Yahiko – no, no – c'mon, you little jerk, please – "

Her student was pale and cold and unresponsive. She pressed her ear to his chest, his mouth, hoping for a heartbeat or the whisper of breath but there wasn't anything –

"Get back, missy." Sano was there, suddenly – he must have followed her down – pushing her carefully away and kneeling next to Yahiko. He turned Yahiko on his side and pressed on him stomach, stabilizing him with one wide hand against his back. Yahiko was so small, next to Sano – underfed and scrawny and the most precious thing in the world –

And coughing! Yahiko hacked and spat. Half of Edo Bay was retching out of his mouth but he was breathing again –

Tears stung her eyes.

"C'mon, kid," Sano said, in a too-easy tone. "That's it. Even a baby knows how to breathe, right?"

By way of an answer, Yahiko vomited up some more water and sucked in a long, steady breath. Kaoru wrapped him in a tight hug, and he wheezed, flailing at her shoulders.

"You scared me to death – "

Sano pulled her back. He took off his coat and let it fall on Yahiko, covering his head momentarily in white cloth.

"Easy, missy. Let him breathe for a while. He'll be alright, now that the water's out."

"He's alright? Really?" She clutched at her collar, eyes hot with salt spray and her overflowing tears. Kenshin stirred beside her and she turned to face him, bracing herself against the pebbled shore with one shaking arm.

"Kenshin…"

His throat worked; he lowered his eyes and stared at his hands, clenched hard on top of his thighs. Bracing himself for something – as if he expected…

A startled oh! slid from her lips before she could stop it. He'd disobeyed – he'd left the dojo when he was never supposed to leave without her permission, and he'd gone after Yahiko when he was supposed to stay by her side and guard her –

Kenshin started to flinch at her exclamation; before he could finish collapsing in on himself she threw her arms around him, too overwhelmed to think of the consequences.

"Thank you," she cried into his shoulder. "Thank you, thank you, thank you…"

He fell back on his hands, stiffening: she smelled saltwater on his skin and something else, something woody and sweet. Clean earth and cedar… he was harder than she'd expected, all ropy muscle and tense control and freezing cold from his swim, and before she quite realized what she was doing she squeezed him tight, wanting to make him warm. Damp seeped from his clothing to hers and she realized, suddenly, exactly how close they were.

"You're soaking wet – " she said, pulling abruptly away, " – your skin's like ice. Here." Pulling off her coat helped cover her own awkwardness: she wrapped it around his shoulders, careful not to touch his bare skin. "Put this on, you'll catch your death."

Kenshin straightened himself, one hand creeping up to clutch her jacket closed. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and she had to look away as a blush crept unbidden over her face.

"I should get you both home," she said quietly. "Sano, can you carry Yahiko?"

"No." Yahiko's voice was cracked and raw, and he glared up at her from where he'd nestled into Sano's coat with black rage in his eyes. Kaoru's stomach lurched. "I ain't going."

"What? Yahiko. Don't be ridiculous, you're freezing, you need to warm up and rest – " Trivial concerns, but she was trying to head him off – because she knew what he wanted to know and also that she couldn't tell him –

"I ain't goin'," he took a deep, ragged breath, "until you explain t'me what you were doin' makin' deals with weapon smugglers!"

"That ain't somethin' you need to know, kid," Sano intoned, one hand coming to rest heavily on Yahiko's shoulder. "Trust me."

"Why the hell should I?" Yahiko would have been shouting, except that his voice was too strained to manage it. He coughed, sucking air into his lungs. "You don't fucking trust me! So why the hell should I trust you?"

"Yahiko…" Kaoru reached towards him and he batted her hand away, glaring.

"Don't treat me like I'm a little kid!" His voice cracked again, and not from exhaustion, "Whatever's goin' on, I got a right to know! It's my home, too – "

He blinked hard, eyes glistening briefly, and Kaoru thought her heart would break.

"Yes. But – this isn't something – I can't tell you, Yahiko. It's too dangerous. You shouldn't have followed us here in the first place and – and you need to forget what you just saw." Nausea built low in her abdomen, a terrible feeling like running downhill and knowing that you're going too fast to stop.

"Why?" He made an abortive gesture, as though he had wanted to slam his hand down on something and realized almost too late that there was nothing there. "What's so goddamn important? I'm not – you think I can't handle it?" He was breathing hard now, quick gasps that meant he was fighting back tears, and he rubbed furiously at his nose. "You think I'm too stupid t'help or know the truth or – "

"I think you're a ten year old boy," she said, and remembered her father. She was speaking his words, now, and it felt like trespassing on sacred ground. "And you're the bravest, strongest, most honorable ten year old boy I know – but you're ten years old, and you're my student, and if anything happened to you I couldn't live with it, Yahiko!"

She grabbed his shoulders, not quite shaking him, her fingers clamped hard around his arms. He had to listen, and understand – because he shouldn't have been here tonight, because her heart had stopped the moment she'd seen him rush out of the trees and she had died watching him fall over that cliff: died and not come back to life until he'd sucked in that first ragged breath.

"Yes, I am trying to protect you! I'm your teacher. That's my job! And I am ordering you, as your teacher, to forget everything you saw tonight and never, ever mention it again. And if you can't trust me in this, then forget that you were ever my student!"

The words hung in the air like the echo of a temple bell, cold and shattering. Something in Yahiko's eyes – the fierce pride he held so dearly – broke, and tears began to pour down his face. But he wasn't sobbing. He didn't make a sound.

"…Yahiko, I – no, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She pulled him into a hug, cradling his head against her shoulder. He didn't respond.

"I didn't mean it. I wouldn't throw you out, not ever. You're my family, you're – you scared me so much, I – I'm sorry. I won't leave you. I won't. Not ever." Her voice was very small.

Kaoru looked helplessly at Sano. There was anger in his eyes, too, the same frightened rage that had beat inside her until she'd let it out. As she watched, it dimmed and died.

"Hey, kid." He reached out, uncertain, and ruffled Yahiko's hair. "You know she didn't mean it. Y'just scared us, that's all. But we're not gonna kick y'out."

Yahiko sobbed – just once – and she heard him whisper I'm sorry.

"I know," she said, low and quiet. "I know. So am I."

Sano stayed behind to deal with the smugglers and take the rifles to their final destination – one of the many storehouses scattered throughout Edo, waiting for word from Kyoto. Kaoru took Yahiko home, and he didn't hold her hand but he walked close and silent beside her, like a shadow. Kenshin walked a few paces behind him, wary as they passed through the old docks and calming as they drew nearer to home and safety. Yahiko had lost his sandals somewhere; he wouldn't let himself be carried and shuffled stubbornly along in his socks until they were almost three-quarters of the way home, and then he stumbled. Kenshin caught the back of his collar and picked him up in one easy gesture. Yahiko didn't protest. Kaoru shot a grateful glance Kenshin's way, and thought she saw his expressionless eyes slide over to meet hers.

Yahiko was almost asleep on his feet by the time they made it home: he ducked clumsily away from her and headed for his room first thing. Kaoru watched him go, helpless.

"Miss Kaoru," Kenshin said quietly, stepping up to her side.

Kaoru sniffed quickly and turned to face him, forcing a calm expression. She couldn't quite manage cheer right now.

"Yes, Kenshin?"

He hesitated for just a heartbeat too long before he spoke.

"…shall this worthless one to prepare some tea?" he said finally, and Kaoru wondered what he had tried and failed to tell her. That she'd been too hard? Spoken stupid, evil words that could never be taken back?

She already knew that.

"That sounds fine, Kenshin," she said, voice wavering. "Some barley tea, please. Not green."

He bowed, moving off towards the kitchen, and she was left alone in the dim circle of light cast by the stone lanterns flanking the door. She took a moment to breathe, forcing air to flow past the rawness in her throat and draw the tears away from her eyes.

Then she went inside. Yahiko's door was closed, but his lantern was lit. She knocked softly.

"Yahiko?" she called. There was a shuffling sound, as though he was pulling on clothing or rolling out of bed.

"You don't have to open the door," she said quickly. "I just – I wanted to say I'm sorry. Again. I – I would never – " A quick, deep breath. "Even if you decided that you didn't want to study the Kamiya Kasshin anymore, you'd still have a home here. This will always be your home. Always. No matter what."

She could hear the cracks in her voice and hoped that he did, too: hoped that he could hear the truth in it.

Another soft scuffle and the door slid open. Yahiko knelt on the other side, dressed for sleeping, and his eyes were softly red and slightly bloodshot.

"Can you just – ?" and he took his own deep breath. "Can you just tell me – what you and Sano are doing – it's not bad, right? You're not wrapped up in anything – really wrong. Are you?"

"No." He looked so small, backlit by the paper lantern, but fire was starting to rekindle in his eyes and Kaoru allowed herself a moment of hope that she hadn't wounded him beyond healing.

"No," she said again, softly. "It's illegal, and dangerous, but – it's not wrong. It's probably the most right thing I've ever done."

She knew, as she said it, that'd she'd given everything away. Yahiko was smart enough to realize, if not the whole truth, then enough of it to put him in danger. But – she didn't see any other way. Not after what she'd said to him.

Yahiko considered this for a while, worrying at his lower lip. Then he nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Just – promise me you won't do anything stupid. Promise." There was desperation in his voice.

"I'll be as safe as I can," she said. "I swear to you. By my father's name."

And she thought about telling him more: that he was provided for in her will, and had been since he'd become her student. That even if something did happen to her, he'd have an income and roof over his head. That she would never leave him in the cold, not ever.

But that wasn't the point: the point was that he needed her, her and Sano, and she knew how much not being able to help them must be devouring him from the inside. She couldn't let him help, though. Not in this. She was risking too much already.

"I promise," she repeated, and held his gaze with hers. "Nothing bad is going to happen."

After a moment, he nodded.

"Alright," he said, rubbing his neck. "Um. Goodnight, Kaoru."

"Goodnight, Yahiko."

He closed the door. She stayed outside for a few moments, until the lantern dimmed and went out; then she stood and went to the kitchen, hoping that Kenshin had finished making the tea.

Sano passed by the Oguni clinic on his way back from Katsu's, almost – but not quite – planning to go inside. It was the middle of the night, after all; the clinic was closed, and nevermind the single lamp burning in the foyer. That was for emergencies, and a handful of scrapes and bruises didn't qualify.

He sighed, allowing himself to lean for a moment against the gate. No, there wasn't any reason to bother the fox-lady at this hour: the only real hurts he had weren't anything that he had the right to ask her help with. He'd never meant for Kaoru or Yahiko to get involved in any of this.

And yeah, okay, it had been selfish as fuck for him to try and keep them out of it, keep them unsullied – he'd been doing it for his sake, not theirs. But he'd been trying to protect them, dammit, and didn't that count for something…?

Megumi had a way of pulling the truth out of the mire of bullshit he covered it with. Surgeon's eyes, seeing past malingering and false symptoms to the real disease. He wanted to talk to her – he just didn't have the right. Not when she was carrying so many burdens of her own.

After the war, maybe… maybe once Kanryu was dead and rotting, she'd consent to let him carry a few. And there'd be an after, for both of them. He'd make sure of it.

Megumi stopped walking when she reached the clinic gate. It was late – too late to be going out. Too late for anything. Even if she found Sagara at this hour, what could she possibly say?

Shinomori had sent to Kyoto and Kyoto had responded. She had her orders and she knew how important they were. Kanryu's latest scheme transcended her worst nightmares; he couldn't be allowed to succeed.

And he wouldn't. She could – she would – stop him. For a price.

But everything had a price, didn't it? For every life, a death: medicine was simply the art of choosing. Trading the child's life for the mother's, or the mother's for the child. The man with a festering gut wound eased quickly on his way, so that the man with a mere broken leg might live. No doctor could save every life. Sometimes there was no hope or help, and when those times came you could simply… let go.

She leaned against the gate, and thought for a moment that Sagara was pressing warm against her back.

It would hurt, letting them go. Letting her hard-won hope go, when she had almost allowed herself to believe that she would have an afterwards. But – one little future, willingly given, to secure thousands of happy endings.

Fair trade.

It was late, and Kaoru knew that she should be sleeping. But Yahiko's clothing had been torn in the fight and she wanted to have it mended before morning. She could sew, after all; she was a terrible cook and a mediocre housekeeper but she could at least keep herself and her family looking presentable.

So here she was, stitching away next to her paper lantern. It didn't cast the brightest light, so she had to sit almost on top of it. The needle gleamed with every stitch, trailing yellow thread and pulling the tear closed, bit by painstaking bit. She worked small and slow, hiding the stitches in the weave of the cloth. By the time she was done, with luck, you'd never be able to tell there had been a tear at all.

Kenshin knelt patiently at her side, head drooping. His eyes kept sliding shut and staying closed for longer each time, but he'd refused to leave. He wouldn't sleep until she did, no matter how she insisted – so she really should be getting to bed soon, for his sake. But if she did, she'd only lie awake and stare at the ceiling and he'd know that she wasn't sleeping and stay awake anyway. At least this way she was doing something productive with her time.

Sewing was the one household chore she excelled at. The dojo hadn't been doing well since her father died; she had rather less income than anyone suspected, and her careful mending was one of the reasons she could keep up appearances so well. That, and the bolts of cloth in the storehouse that she used to make new clothing when the old garments became more stitching than cloth. It took time, but she had plenty of that.

Her mother had taught her how to sew. They were some of the clearest memories that Kaoru had of her. Her hands had guided Kaoru's, cool and soft, laughter in her voice as she counseled patience. It was a meditation, she'd explained, like the battle-discipline her father taught her. Stitch your feelings into the cloth, she'd said. Hope, and love, and the desire to protect: put it all into your work, and it will keep your loved ones safe and warm, and guide them home again.

Kaoru paused, then turned over the hem of the shirt. There was a little green frog embroidered there, a charm for safe return, and she rubbed her thumb gently over it. It was getting a little ragged.

First, the mending. There were only a few stitches left and Kaoru worked them carefully, an unvoiced prayer on her lips. Make us whole again. All of them – herself, Sano, Megumi, Yahiko, and Kenshin, too. Bring us safely home. Home being some far distant future, when everything was over and the world was new and free. Keep us safe. Let the roses grow far away from their door…

She finished and reached for her cup of tea. It was still mostly full, and long since cooled. There was a slight pressure in her skull, a growing headache – from the low light or dehydration, she couldn't be sure which. There was a small tray of riceballs next to the cup, and she remembered that she hadn't eaten since lunch. She still wasn't hungry.

She ate one anyway, without tasting it, and cast about for green thread. Might as well refresh the little frog, while she was here; all its power must surely have been spent to bring Yahiko safely from of the sea.

With a soft sigh, Kenshin toppled gently over – a kind of half-controlled fall – and curled up on the ground next to her, his upper back resting against the side of her thigh, catlike. His hair draped over his neck, the color of autumn leaves and gleaming with gold in the dim lamplight. His eyes were closed, and he tucked his arms tight inside the curve of his body like a child in hiding.

"…Kenshin?"

He made a sleepy sound – just like Ayame or Suzume did when they didn't want to wake up – and curled a little tighter, pressing back against her. He'd never slept in front of her, not since he'd recovered from his injuries. Protocol, Megumi had said when she'd mentioned it. A slave never sleeps in front of their master, in case the master should have need of them…

Kenshin was sleeping now, or dozing at the very least. The lines of his face had softened: he looked so young, without the weight of consciousness.

Carefully, not quite certain why she was doing it, Kaoru brushed an errant strand of hair away and tucked it behind his ear. He uncurled a little at her touch – relaxing, not stiffening. Then he stilled, his breath coming deeper and steadier as he sank into true sleep.

Kaoru stroked his hair again, soft as feathers, and a fierce, aching warmth bloomed in her chest. The urge to protect… the bone-deep need to cover him and keep him safe, a desire she had no right to but felt anyway. To fight, not because justice demanded it, but to keep him safe – because he was hers, and she would never let anyone harm what was hers. Not ever.

No right. She had no right to feel this way, not when he couldn't choose – not when he had no choice but to stay with her. He wasn't hers, not really. He hadn't asked for this any more than she had, and she needed to remember that. He could never be hers, because he had no self to give freely: Kanryu had taken it from him by force; she had taken it from Kanryu by accident. And now she held it in trust against the day that he was strong enough to take it back.

If she was lucky, he would remember her kindly when that day came.

Kaoru pushed the tears from her eyes and bent to her work.

Hiko stood before the gates to the Kamiya school, and the vial of perfume in his pocket burned like a brand. He clasped his hand around it, gently, feeling the weight of it. Such a small thing to rest his hopes on, and such a terrible thing to do to a man only half-healed.

But this was the way of things. Cruelty and kindness were all one, viewed from a distance: the ideal of the sword of heaven, to do what was necessary. And he was certain that this was necessary. Otherwise he wouldn't be doing it. Rather circular reasoning, specious really, but none of that mattered. He had a role to play in this, this drama, and he would play it to the hilt.

The boy hadn't changed, not in his heart. He'd need the push – he wasn't a coward, but he'd always avoided conflict and that was a flaw that ran straight into his heart, a flaw that Hiko had known would destroy him if not cured. Had destroyed him, Hiko suspected. That was why he'd let the little idiot go haring off after the Yukishiro girl in the first place, after all. Because it had been time and past that the boy learned to stand his ground and fight for something, and if the fight was futile then so much the better: two lessons in one.

Sometimes, you must fight.

Sometimes, you can't win.

Yet you fight anyway.

He started forward, then paused. There was no moon tonight, only the faint, cold stars and a low breeze rattling the trees. The little teacher's home felt… as peaceful as any place could be, in a world such as this, hushed and sacred as the unbroken snow, and that shouldn't have mattered but it did.

A few hours one way or the other… what difference did it make?

With a sigh like an ancient lion, Hiko turned away and went looking for a place to wait for sunrise.