He landed lightly by the base of the tree and rested his back against it, checking further down the slope. He had seen it; a faint shadow across the snow as something moved, melting into the woods. Kenshin sheathed his sword quietly, taking care to breathe behind shelter of the tree trunk so that his breath wouldn't be a giveaway. The air was bitingly cold.

Carefully, he crouched down against the bark and risked a glance downhill. There was nobody to be seen, but he didn't expect anyone. Instead, he scrutinized the low-lying bushes … and gave a small smile. One had been brushed against recently; the leaves on one side were free of snow.

Clumsy, for you. His smile faded. If that were the case, then it was probably a trick; a deliberate attempt to lead him astray. The man he was up against was far too smart to make such a mistake. Kenshin scanned the rest of the grounds suspiciously, and found nothing else seemingly out of place.

None of which helped him at all. If his only hint was to avoid the obvious setup, that left a great deal of space to quarter in search of his quarry. He took a small breath, then rounded the tree and moved soundlessly for the clump of bushes, staying low until he reached their shelter. The shadow had moved downhill, but hadn't passed by this way. Which meant the most likely place for his quarry to have gone was up into the trees. Kenshin lifted his gaze carefully from his hiding place, peering up into the snow-laden branches.

"You know—"

He yelped as a large hand found his collar and dragged him through the bushes, swinging around to slam him down flat on his back.

"-sometimes things are exactly as they appear. Idiot."

His attempt to find a dignified response to that was spoiled by the fact that the attack had left him gasping like a hooked fish. Instead, Kenshin settled for glaring at the man who now stood over him, massive arms folded across an equally impressive chest. His scowl was met with a smirk that seemed equal parts derision and arrogance, before the man turned and sauntered off, the corner of his white cape slapping into Kenshin's face.

"Get up," the man continued, sounding bored. "I didn't agree to train you so you could laze around all day."

Kenshin gritted his teeth as he rolled over. "You know very well that's not fair, Shishou. You're changing the rules—"

"Rules?" Hiko grinned outright. "If I am, whose fault is that? You don't have time to whine about rules in a fight, baka deshi. I suppose if you're really lucky your enemy will stop to laugh at you…"

Kenshin staggered to his feet and drew his sword, trying hard not to flush with embarrassment. He could be the most brilliant swordsman in the world and he'd still be reduced to a fumbling novice in front of this man. Maybe he was more of a masochist than he'd thought. He glared at his master's back, lifting his sword to guard. "I'm ready."

"You're never ready," was the derisive reply.

But he was getting better. Kenshin saw the telltale, subtle shift in Hiko's stance and dived left as the powerful swordsman whirled in a blur of white to strike where he'd been standing. The redhead landed, skidding slightly in the snow, and launched himself forward, sword slicing in an arc for Hiko's unguarded ribs.

Supposedly unguarded. The elbow caught him in the jaw with enough force that he heard his teeth snap together painfully, and then he was tumbling back into the snow with ringing ears and just enough presence of mind to bring his sword up to block the next blow. He rolled again, scrabbling upright as he turned to gaze at Hiko warily.

Every morning at sunrise, they would find each other on the mountain and fight. And every morning without fail, Kenshin would lose. Normally he could at least hold his own, but for the past few days he had been far too distracted. And Hiko had no time for distractions, nor did he have any sympathy. Kenshin hadn't bothered telling him what was on his mind, even though by the narrow looks his master kept throwing him it was obvious that Hiko knew he was preoccupied.

It just made him a far more brutal opponent. Stalking the younger swordsman, Hiko kept on the offensive, delivering blow after blow that Kenshin had trouble deflecting. Those few that slipped past his guard hurt; never mind that Hiko was only hitting him with the back of the blade. He narrowed his eyes. He'd lost far too much lately, and it didn't seem likely that his losing streak would end any time soon. Maybe it was time he also stopped playing by the rules.

With that thought, Kenshin ducked the next blow, drew the iron sheath from his waist and spun low, aiming for Hiko's midsection. Predictably Hiko's next stroke sliced the sheath in two, but he'd already let go of it, turning with his momentum to slice high-

Hiko caught the blade in his fingers and gave him an insufferable smirk. "I guess that's an improvement."

A moment later, Kenshin found himself face first in the snow, sword thudding down beside him. He was in the process of spitting it out as Hiko took a step back, voice lifted imperiously.

"Do Ryu Sen!"

Oh no—

There was a loud, cracking explosion of snow and frozen earth as Hiko drove his sword into the ground. Kenshin knew he should have rolled and snatched his sword up, finding some way to block or at the very least avoid the oncoming tidal wave of white. Instead, he covered his head with both hands and wondered dismally if Hiko would actually bother to dig him out again.

It was a question he didn't need to have answered, as it turns out. The atmosphere changed on him, then; stilled, froze in time. He uncovered his head to glance curiously up at the downpour that seemed to hover just above his head. There was no movement. He turned his head to see Hiko standing there, black hair still flaring about his head and trapped in midswing.

Kenshin rolled out from under the frozen deluge and rose to his feet. "Computer. Status report."

You have a visitor. All programs disengaged.

"Thank you."

He sighed as the world around him faded to black, and waited for the system to log him out.

-o0o-

Kenshin would be training at this time of the morning; first online, and then off. By the amount of time the redhead took to answer the door, Aoshi assumed he was still wired into the Net. He leaned against the steel railing of the balcony, glancing down to the wide streets below. Kenshin still lived in Greater Tokyo, but he'd abandoned his allotted corporate apartment long ago for something on the cheaper – and more private - scale. Nevertheless, the apartment block was luxurious and still a far cry from anything to be found on the other side of the gates.

He was very tired. It had been a long time since he'd felt the need to stay awake so long. And it would be a long time still before he allowed himself the luxury.

There was just too much to do.

The door slid open behind him. "Aoshi?"

Aoshi turned. Kenshin stood in the doorway, looking at him in confusion. Maybe he was wrong, and Kenshin had just woken; his red hair was an unbrushed mess, much of it having escaped the standard ponytail, and he was only dressed in a pair of worn black jeans. But his violet eyes were sharply alert – if a little bewildered.

The redhead stared at him a moment more, before blinking. "You haven't slept."

"No time," Aoshi replied.

The violet eyes closed briefly. Kenshin let go of the door, turning away. "Come in."

"Thank you."

Aoshi crossed the threshold, letting the door slide shut. The apartment was spacious, even if the kitchen and the network area were all part of the same huge room. The floors were polished timber and spotless; there wasn't a thing out of place, except for the tangle of wiring by the computer. Aoshi had rarely visited Kenshin here. He stood awkwardly just inside the door, watching as Kenshin padded to the kitchen bench, turning on the kettle. Aoshi narrowed his eyes at the sight of the black kanji still etched into the redhead's right shoulder blade, half hidden by the fall of tangled hair.

"You haven't removed the tattoos."

"I don't see the need to."

Some of us just remember. But he said nothing. What Kenshin did was his own business, after all. Instead, he waited until Kenshin finished in the kitchen, and murmured a faint thank you as the redhead handed him a mug of hot tea.

"All right," Kenshin said softly. "We have privacy. What's happened?"

There was no easy way to say what he wanted to, and Aoshi wasn't known for dissembling in any case. Nevertheless, he hesitated before replying. "Last night, the Kurogasa division was cracked by a netrunner. They were intent on the Nanodust Project."

"I had nothing to do with it," Kenshin said, voice neutral.

He permitted himself a faint shrug. "I know."

Kenshin relaxed. "Corporate spy?"

"…I don't believe so. Their original search was for an individual. One of Jinei's 'volunteers'."

"So it might be personal." Kenshin looked at him warily. "And you've been there all night."

"Yes."

"Tell me the worst."

Aoshi took a breath, and then said flatly, "The runner raised enough security flags that the Battousai sentry was activated."

The redhead was silent, his face a blank mask. It was possible, Aoshi thought, that the faint, hitched breath that Kenshin sucked in was unnoticeable to anyone less observant.

He wasn't sure why he had paused, then. To test the waters, perhaps – the last known victim of the Battousai program had hurt Kenshin badly, which was no surprise given who that victim had been to him. If he reacted now as he reacted then, there would be no point at all Aoshi coming here to tell him.

Part of him acknowledged he was being cruel.

"I see," Kenshin murmured finally, turning away. Dismissive. Quiet.

Aoshi narrowed his eyes. "No. You don't."

"What else is there?"

There was genuine venom in Kenshin's soft reply; something he clearly regretted immediately. The redhead took a breath, turning back to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry. Aoshi. Thank you for telling me." He smiled ruefully. "I imagine Shishio will be disappointed that you've spoiled his gloating."

Satisfied with that response, Aoshi shook his head. "Shishio will call you this morning. It won't be to gloat. The runner survived."

-o0o-

He didn't know how to feel. Survived? An impossibility, he'd thought. And a straw to clutch. And: Damn you, Aoshi. For holding back that information until last, even though Kenshin could guess why. He knew his shock was written on his face; Aoshi was staring at him intently enough that he instinctively tried to hide it. But …

"…how?" he finally asked, once he found his voice again. His mind was already busy, running through his options. "That's … nobody else did."

"Activated a designer program at the point of lethal impact,"Aoshi said. "He'll be badly hurt."

"But he survived."

"Yes."

Abruptly Kenshin spun on his heel, stalking for the doorway to his bedroom, throwing his next words over his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be hunting him down then?"

"I was transferred from ED One yesterday," Aoshi said mildly, sipping his tea.

"I see." His mouth quirked. Alas. And he still didn't know how to react. He was functioning on automatic; whatever he did now, at the very least he would need to get dressed. His fingers reached for the grey t-shirt, slung over the rail of his bed. Closest thing to hand. He shrugged it on. "You still have contact with your team?"

"Checked just before I arrived." They wouldn't alter radio frequency just because Aoshi was transferred; his record was impeccable. The security second would be able to patch in and listen any time he liked. It occurred to Kenshin to wonder just why he had been transferred; something to ask later.

"They lost the runner in Chinatown and were forced to call off the original chase due to street interference," Aoshi continued.

That information made him pause. Lesser Tokyo. Downtown … bad territory. "Street samurai or yakuza? Were they in on it?"

"Street samurai. Unsure. Could be coincidental. Sumitomo won't overlook the possibility."

Kenshin considered that a moment. That meant things could get dangerous. His mouth thinned as he reached for his jacket. It didn't matter.

"I thought," Aoshi continued softly, "You would like to know."

Yes. Thank you.

"Shishio will call," he said, voice thoughtful. Shoes were next. "He won't be able to resist. The sooner he can force me to betray him, the sooner he can be rid of me."

"Yes."

Shishio would order him after the netrunner. Given his role in recent months, he supposed it was technically part of his jurisdiction in any case; never mind that Shishio would probably attempt to throw suspicion on Kenshin merely because the runner survived.

The runner survived.

An attack on Sumitomo – a family he was still loyal to, despite Shishio – meant that he should, by rights, act in accordance with Shishio's wishes. Perhaps he still would have, if the program activated had not been Battousai. That simple detail – an ICE sentry he had been both naïve enough and arrogant enough to create, which would in turn destroy everything he cared about – meant that instead, he was more inclined to right the balance.

"Thank you, Aoshi." He pulled the leather tie from his red hair and shook it out, before gathering it back up again and pulling it into a proper ponytail. Bed hair was not a good look for the streets. And speaking of which … He returned to the doorway, combing fingers through the red ends of his hair in an attempt to make them more manageable. Aoshi was most of the way through his tea; there were dark shadows under his eyes.

"You look exhausted. Take the spare bed," he suggested.

Aoshi blinked, glancing at him. "What will you do?"

"Wait for his call," Kenshin said agreeably. "And then obediently agree to hunt down this criminal hacker. What else is there to do?"

He could swear Aoshi was at least thinking about smiling. The thought made him grin.

Aoshi put the mug of tea down. "I'll go with you."

"You need sleep," he protested.

"You need help."

He paused. He could do this on his own, and Shishio would hardly expect him to turn up in Lesser Tokyo with Aoshi at his side. On the other hand, given his lack of popularity in certain areas …

"All right," he said finally. "If you're sure."

Right on cue, his phone rang.

They glanced at each other. Then Aoshi turned and walked quietly to the front door as Kenshin snapped the phone up from the network area, heading back into the bedroom for the wooden stand by the dresser.

"Himura here." His voice was flat. The caller ID had already told him everything he needed.

"Sempai," the voice crackled back. "I do believe we need to talk."

He was already reaching for his sword.

-o0o-

By the time Misao managed to drag her to the steps leading down to Megumi's surgery, Kaoru was shivering violently. Her head didn't hurt as much, but she suspected that was because everything was dulled. She was seeing the world in fragments, when she had the nerve to open her eyes and look at it at all.

Increasingly, however, keeping her eyes shut was becoming just as futile. The flashes of blood, the killer's eyes were lurking in the darkness just as much as the light. He was an after image; a ghost that she knew was not there.

Yet she flinched every time he lifted the sword, just the same.

"Kaoru. Kaoru?" Misao's worried voice, and Misao's hand wrapped around her wrist, keeping her balanced over a shoulder, and Misao had been lying to her, which shouldn't be that important should it?

"She's awake," another irritated voice cut in. "If I know her, she doesn't have any choice about it. Sit her down on the bed."

There was a scratchy softness underneath her a moment later and the supporting hand moved to her back. Kaoru fought nausea and lifted her head, opening her eyes to peer blearily around the room, recognizing the familiar clutter of the surgery that Megumi kept in the basement of a herbalist in Chinatown. Misao was there, chattering away nervously to the woman whose back was to them as she rummaged through a drawer. Kaoru felt a faint stab of guilt, mustering up a sickly smile even as Megumi turned back to them, fixing her with a stare of pure fury.

"Megumi-san—"

"Don't bother," she interrupted sweetly. "I've heard all of your excuses before. I see you're pumped on something again. Much more of this and you actually will look like a tanuki." She paused, eyeing her with carefully neutral expression. "This time you went too far, didn't you?"

Before she could find a way to protest that wouldn't be outright lying, cool fingers caught her chin and lifted it, turning Kaoru's eyes to the pen light. She flinched at the brightness; squeezed her eyes shut against the image of blood-red hair that came with it, opening them again only at Megumi's curt order.

"What did you take?" Megumi asked. "I need to know."

"Standard booster shot. The kind Sano gets. It'll…" she broke off in a fresh wave of shivering, and closed her eyes again. "…go away in another day."

Megumi sighed, walking away. There was the sound of running water.

"Wait, there's more than that," Misao protested hotly. "She got hit by something online. And she's bleeding! Look at—"

"You're absolutely right," was the waspish response. "I don't know how I managed to miss all that blood. Thank goodness I had you to point it out to me."

Misao shut up. For a moment. Kaoru grinned tiredly; a fleeting smile that faded as the journalist added sheepishly "Also, she said she's seeing stuff."

"Right. Here, take this. You can help me clean her up so I can get a good look at her ears."

"Um, sure…"

"What are you seeing, Kaoru-chan?" Megumi seemed very far away. "Tell me what happened."

The shivering was getting worse. She hunched forward, folding arms across her chest. A blanket was settled across her shoulders by one of them; she wasn't sure which. Kaoru took a breath, trying to put her thoughts in some order. "I was hit by black ICE on a run. I jacked out …"

The strike had hit her; his second one, a headshot. A surety no matter what hardware you used. But everything had shattered at that point; Kaoru, the samurai, his sword. Unprecedented. She didn't want to think about how close she'd cut it.

And now she was seeing him. Everywhere.

"Kaoru-san?" There was warmth at her ear of a different kind; cotton dabbing onto the blood at her earlobe. Misao sounded very worried. She felt guilty. They would both be angry with her, and they wouldn't be the only ones.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment, voice a little stronger. How to explain? "The ICE program … hurt me on the way out. And there was a lot of disruption in the system – everything got messed up. I think…"

"Are you seeing the ICE program?"

Kaoru opened her eyes again, glancing up to Megumi's face. Everything was much hazier than it had been. "Yes. He's … he's like a samurai."

Megumi stared at her. "You ran into a samurai program? What'd he look like?"

"Red hair—"

"Doesn't matter." Megumi was all brisk efficiency again, moving to wash the blood from her other ear. "You're not the only runner to stagger to me after a botched run." She paused, and then added more softly, "I'm going to give you something to neutralise the booster shot, and then I'm going to give you a sedative. Rest will help a little."

Kaoru bit her lip. "I shouldn't stay here."

"Too bad," Megumi said pleasantly. "And too late. Your friend can move you when I, as your doctor, deem it safe. Now shut up and lie down, and don't think you've heard the end of this."

She barely felt the cool moisture as her arm was swabbed. The prick of the needle made her flinch, but only once. By the time Megumi deemed it safe to apply the sedative, Kaoru was already well on the way to unconsciousness.

-o0o-

Rest would help, but it wouldn't solve the problem. And the problem was one that Megumi, with her back street surgery, would be unable to deal with.

At least the physical damage wasn't as bad as it had first seemed. Once the blood was cleared away from Kaoru's ears, she was able to find the source of the injury; not a hemorrhaging, as she'd first feared, but rather an aggravated damage to the inner part of the ear. There was a line of blistering and abraded skin, raw flesh that was clotted with blood. Megumi sighed.

If Kaoru had been using a human-nerve interface, the stupid girl would be dead. Instead, she'd suffered no more than lacerations from – she assumed – ripping a headset away that would have been close to white-hot at the time. The nose bleed was a bad sign, but significantly less worrying on its own. She tried to be grateful about that; instead, she felt her sense of irritation grow.

"Do you know," she said to the girl in the summer dress, still sitting on the edge of the bed, "how much this girl makes me want to slap her on a regular basis?"

"Funny," the girl said cheerfully. "I think she's said the same thing about me."

Megumi blinked, and then smiled wearily. "How much trouble is she in? How involved are you?"

She very pointedly didn't ask the girl's name. Which was fine. Judging by the shrewd look in the girl's green eyes, she had no intention of offering it. Much safer for both of them that way.

"Technically I'm not involved at all," the girl said.

"You brought her to my door."

"Well, yes. But that's because she gave me directions. Er, sort of. She kept blurring out on me and getting mixed up. Once, I almost dragged her into one of those adult film stores by mistake—"

Megumi fixed the girl with a level stare.

"—but seriously, she was in trouble, so I helped out, but I didn't help her cause the trouble. If that's what you're asking. In fact, I have no clue what she did to get the suits onto her like that."

"So she did run a corporation." The mention of black ICE had already confirmed that. The 'samurai' had even told her which corporation they were referring to.

"I'm guessing so."

"Where's Yahiko?"

"I don't know yet." The girl shrugged, looking a little nervous. "I know he wasn't at the apartment, because otherwise Kaoru wouldn't be taking off the way she did. So … I have to assume he's either safe somewhere else, or he's the reason Kaoru dug herself so deep a hole. I didn't really get a chance to ask her."

And now she had to try and work out whether she should call around at Tae's to see if she or Tsubame had seen Yahiko recently, or whether Sumitomo had moved far enough along in their search for the tanuki that calling known friends of Kamiya Kaoru would be a very bad move.

Or whether she should get involved at all. Better to hand it on to others. One thing for sure, once Sano knew about this catastrophe, things would get much worse for everyone. Megumi shook her head wryly and finished cleaning the dried blood away from Kaoru's nose.

"Idiot," she muttered.

"Is she going to be okay?" the girl asked meekly.

"With enough time to rest, she'll recover."

"She's not going to get that. Tell me what's wrong, so I can try and work around it."

She glanced up again in surprise at the steely tone to the girl's voice, and noticed for the first time – unforgivable of a doctor, even if she was distracted to hell by Kaoru's straits – that the girl hadn't come through events unscathed. There was a bruise darkening along her forehead, and a thin, streaked mark across one shoulder that she recognized as a powder burn.

Whoever this was, she'd worked very hard to get Kaoru here in one piece. Megumi relaxed a little. "You're not abandoning her here, then?"

"Of course not!" the girl sounded offended.

"Good. You can take her off my hands in a few hours then. Until then she can rest here. Hopefully you'll be safe enough until nightfall; I don't officially open until then, so they won't expect her to have come here." In fact, Sumitomo shouldn't know she existed here at all, but above all things she was a pessimist. Megumi turned back to the cabinet, pulling the disinfectant down calmly along with fresh gauze.

"So what's wrong with her?"

"Apart from shock and an apparent death wish? Severe neural stress for one. That is recoverable by rest. A lot of it, of the convalescent kind. The longer she can sleep the better. Usually I'd prescribe a ban of the networks and anything that might excite the patient too much. That," she said sourly, "is likely to be impossible."

"And the seeing things?"

"I'm not so sure with that. It isn't my area of expertise." Megumi advanced on the girl with the bowl of water, intent on cleaning the burn. To her credit, the girl merely presented her shoulder for inspection, wincing a little as she set to work. "But … if her mind is still replaying the last images it saw on the Net, then that points to neural damage of a kind."

The mind could be hurt in unique ways, with the modern Net. Kaoru had said everything had become messed up. Either Kaoru needed an expert on the Net or she needed a neural specialist; Megumi was neither. But she had seen it before, on rare occasions.

If her guess was right, Kaoru had wrenched herself out of the net … not quite intact. Like corrupted data, tangled with other files and attempting desperately to put itself back together in the right order.

"I don't know if that will get better or worse," she said honestly. "I can't help her with that. How's your vision?"

"Huh?" the girl blinked and put a hand to her forehead. "Oh. It's clear. Don't worry, that's just a bruise. I have a hard head, you know."

"I'm sure you do." Megumi handed her a wide-toothed comb and the dustpan, already full of broken glass. "Get the rest of that glass out of your hair."

-o0o-

A/N: Oh hey guys. It's only been five years, right? It's been a pretty empty space where any kind of writing is concerned for me, and at the moment I'm still in the process of updating the things I've already written ages ago before I get into new things. Hopefully some of you are still around; I'll warn up front I'm about to delve into a new fandom for writing because I need some way to jumpstart my muse properly, so may as well go with the flow.

This doesn't mean I'm ditching my old stuff. I've written a little more in a couple of the fics I've got outstanding, just not a lot. I'm rusty. So bear with me and I'll see if I can make 2014 the year I finally get back into this stuff properly.

For the record I'm also updating over at AO3 under the same penname, and I'm hanging out on Tumblr under plothooksinc if you want to check in. I'll be around. Catch you guys later.

(PS. Screw you fanfic dot net. Why can't I use my original pagebreaks, you big jerk.)