CHAPTER ELEVEN – IRRITATING! Rubbing the Wrong Way

"Don't fidget so much," there was a sharp slap on Sanosuke's back.

"Ow! Hey, you shouldn't be hitting a patient!"

"Maybe it'll teach you not to put a shirt back on that's been rubbed in plants with all sorts of toxic properties," Megumi frowned. "Now hold still while I put the ointment on it."

"But it's so itchy!"

Megumi simply frowned and dipped her fingers in the salve again. The sun had begun to set and the smells from the evening meal were wafting around the country house, mingling with the slight tinge of mint in the ointment on Sanosuke's back and in the jar at her knees. His shirt was crumpled beside him, stained green, orange, and lavender from the afternoon's collection of herbs. The wind ruffled it over to display half of the bold kanji on the back.

Sanosuke slumped in his seat on the edge of the porch, looking at it. "Hn. Guess it'll have to be washed after all."

"It's about time," Megumi muttered, but not as harshly as before. There was a distant crash from within the house, and the giggling laughter and pattering steps of Ayame and Suzume could be heard as Kenshin chided them gently. Otherwise, the only sounds heard from without were the rustling of leaves and grass, along with the occasional singing of a cricket. There was a click as she put the ointment back down on the wooden porch, and the salt water basin on her other side rippled.

Sanosuke felt a smooth hand on his right shoulder and breathed the fresh mint smell it gave off as it travelled in a small circle. The poppy-orange sun touched the tips of the trees on the horizon as the first few stars began to peek out from deepening blue above them. The warmth of the day was retreating beyond the tree-topped hills, and the encroaching shadows slowly began to still the singing of the birds. The salve spread over his shoulders like a cool silk, and the practiced ministrations of the doctor's fingers simultaneously pressed and relieved the muscles in his upper back. Sanosuke felt his skin meld into her touch.

"If you don't get it washed," Megumi continued, "the oil from the plants will still be in it, and we'll have to do this all over again. There must have been some sort of toxicodendron in that batch we got . . ." Her pondering drifted. "It would be a good idea to go to the hot springs tomorrow. The minerals in the water will help dry out the oil, and we can reapply this salve more effectively. We should probably also get some more salt water to help the drying process afterward."

"Toxico-what?" Sanosuke puzzled. "Where'd you learn that fancy word?"

Megumi dabbed her fingers again and began to trace them down the centre of his back. "A good doctor is always trying to improve her skills. I do a lot of reading."

A shiver went down Sanosuke's spine, following her fingertips. He wasn't sure if it was the coolness of salve when the wind hit it or not. "Yeah, but that doesn't sound like a normal word. What kind of books are you reading, Fox?"

Megumi finished her line down his back with a little dig of her fingernail at the last word. "Toxicodendron is the genus of a number of plants around the world. One of the kinds we have here in Japan is toxicodendron sylvestre. It's similar to what I've read in Western books on 'poison ivy.'"

"What kind of hocus-pocus language are you talking?" Sanosuke reached a hand over his shoulder to scratch, only to have it slapped away.

"The genus and species of a plant come from Greek and Latin," she explained. "'Toxicodendron' means 'poison tree,' and 'sylvestre' means 'of the woods.' These names are used in international texts on plants. They help doctors identify them."

"It's pretty hard to identify something when the name just means 'poison tree of the woods,'" Sanosuke responded flippantly.

Megumi rolled her eyes. "If you read the whole description and examine the pictures, it's not that hard to identify. After I finish this, I'll sort through the plants we gathered and remove the toxic ones from the collection. I don't know who put it in there, but I'm certainly glad I had us all wash our hands before coming back."

Sanosuke was slowly slipping a hand around to his back, and it received another sharp slap before retreating.

"If you scratch it, it will get worse and you'll have to wash your hands again. Touching it could spread the oil—to your face, your eyes, anywhere you put your hands."

He heaved a frustrated sigh. "You must read that boring stuff a lot if you have the names memorized and everything. I don't know how a normal person could stand it."

"I do spend a lot of time trying to improve my practice," Megumi conceded, "I've taken every possible opportunity to do so since my father had us study Dutch medicine in Nagasaki." She looked down at her hand quietly for a moment, absently feeling the salve between her fingers. Her eyes downcast, the last of the sunlight faded in her iris, unseen behind Sanosuke's body. "But not all of it is spent on reference books," she brought herself back. "Sometimes I read for pleasure."

"Oh?" Sanosuke chuckled. "And what does the fox-lady find pleasurable to read?"

"When I can, I try to read novels."

"Novels? What're those?"

"They're books about people's lives," Megumi closed the lid on the ointment and began to dip her hands in the salt water to wash them. "They talk about the choices characters make, and the effect of those choices on the characters' ultimate happiness."

"Hm. So everyone ends up with the ultimate happiness at the end?"

"Not always. The book I got from Mr. Mikamura doesn't appear to be going that way."

"So, what, it's another one of those Western books? German? Dutch?"

"I've been getting a number of Western books from Mr. Mikamura. Most of them are on Western medicine—you'd be amazed at how many things are changing—but this one is an English book."

"Since when do you know English?"

"I don't. Mr. Mikamura is kind enough to give me translations."

"So even I could read this book, huh?" Sanosuke smirked.

"You'd have to learn a lot more kanji to get to this level," Megumi deflated him. "You should stick to the fairy stories." She flicked a bit of salt water in his face with a playful grin.

"Why you—"

"Sanosuke! Miss Megumi! Dinner's just about ready, that it is!"

"Would you like more rice, Isamu?" Gensai offered.

"Hm?" Isamu swallowed down the last of his bowl. "Uh, sure. Thanks."

Gensai smiled as he scooped more for the boy. The day's patients come and gone, the evening meal was quiet but for the small clicks of the chopsticks against the bowls.

"Wow!" Kikeiko smiled. "Isamu must really be getting better! You can see because he's eating so much more. Isn't that right, Doctor Gensai?"

"Indeed, he must be," Gensai commented. "If you feel up to it, Isamu, we might try going for a walk tomorrow and test out your ankle. The tendon should be healed enough by now for at least a short one."

"Mm," Isamu finished off the newest portion of his meal. "All right," he seemed impassive.

"Well," Gensai stood up, "since it seems we've managed to polish off our dinners, I'll get started on the dishes."

Kikeiko started to stand up. "Do you need any h—" she was interrupted by a fit of coughing that caused her to sink down, resting her hand on the table with her other hand covering her mouth with her handkerchief. Isamu came to her side and held her shoulders as they heaved.

"Don't strain yourself, Kikeiko," Gensai stopped her, gently concerned. "Isamu, why don't you bring her to bed? I think Kikeiko's spent too much time outside today."

"Does . . . does this mean I can't go on the walk with Isamu?" Kikeiko raised her large brown eyes.

"Just rest now," Gensai answered. "We'll see how you are in the morning and then decide. We'll make it a short walk, right, Isamu?"

"Huh?" Isamu suddenly snapped back to attention. He had been staring again. "Oh, yeah. A short one."

"All right," Gensai affirmed, "off to bed with you. I'll tackle this obstacle," he gestured to the dishes. "You just worry about not tripping on the floorboards. The one outside Kikeiko's bedroom is loose."

"Got it," Isamu stood slowly with Kikeiko in one arm, his crutch in the other. The night seemed still as he walked down the exterior porch to Kikeiko's room. There was hardly any wind to brush the rope over the well, or to rustle the herb garden leaves as his bare feet pattered on the polished wood floor, accompanied by the tap of his crutch. Stepping closer to her room, he glanced as he saw Kikeiko's braid fall forward over her shoulder and paused slightly, breathing in the smell her hair gave off before his foot made an interrupting creak on the loose floorboard.

"Be careful," Kikeiko smiled. "We'll both fall down if you trip on that."

"I said I got it," Isamu huffed, embarrassed. He pulled open the door with his crutch. "There. Good night," he nearly dropped her in her room, blushing.

"Wait," Kikeiko supported herself on the doorframe. "After . . . after I get changed, would you tell me a story?"

"Only kids need stories," Isamu puffed himself up.

"Please," her hand held her chest as her breathing started to become irregular. "Doctor Gensai falls asleep and snores before he finishes, and everyone else is gone." Her hand slipped a little on the doorframe. "Besides, it's still kind of early. I don't want to sit alone in here for hours."

Isamu exhaled resignedly. "Fine. I'll be back in ten minutes."

A light cloud passed across the moon as a few minutes passed, and Isamu came back in his yukata with a tapping of his crutch. Kikeiko opened the door at the sound of it, kneeling with a shawl over her own night clothes and a grin on her face.

"All right, let's get this done."

Kikeiko frowned at his curt statement.

Isamu plopped himself down on the other side of Kikeiko's spread-out futon with his arms crossed, but relented at the sight of her pouted lip. He rolled his eyes and tapped the futon in a semblance of invitation.

Kikeiko leapt under the blankets faster than one in her condition ought to be able. Eager eyes peeking out from the covers, she insisted, "Tell me, tell me, tell me."

"Look, I don't know what you're expecting," Isamu grumbled. "I don't have any stories to tell you except one's you've probably already heard."

"We can make one then," Kikeiko smiled, her rosy cheeks emerging over the edge of the blanket.

"Hn," Isamu looked dubious. "Fine. Don't these things start all the same? Once upon a time or whatever?"

"Yup."

"Okay. Once upon a time . . . there was a . . . guy."

"Prince."

"What?"

"You have to make him a prince. All the stories in papa's books have princes. Or shepherds. Is he a prince or a shepherd?"

"What the hell's a shepherd?"

"I don't know, but stories have them."

"Well, fine. He's a prince then. Once upon a time there was a prince. But nobody knew that he was a pri—"

"You forgot the handsome part!"

"What now?" Isamu sighed.

"Princes are handsome. You have to say what he looked like and where he's from."

"What does it matter where he's from? He's just a made-up prince!"

"Well, he's at least handsome!"

"Fine, fine. Once upon a time there was a prince, and he was very handsome. But nobody knew he was a prince because his kingdom was destroyed."

"Oh no!" Kikeiko was getting very involved.

"But his mother the queen managed to secretly escape with her son when he was very little to a big city where nobody knew where they were from."

Kikeiko revealed her face from the blankets with relief.

Emboldened by the sight of her face, Isamu continued. "The queen disguised herself as a seamstress to support her son as they pretended to be peasants. The work was very hard, but she was able to help her son grow into a strong boy."

"What were the prince's and queen's names?"

"The queen was called Yuko and the prince was . . . er, Takeshi." Isamu fumbled.

"What about the father? What happened to the king?"

"There is no king in the story."

"But . . . what happened to him? Did he die when the kingdom was destroyed?"

"No, he . . . yes, but . . . he was just dead, okay? He's not in the story."

"Oh."

"Anyway, Takeshi, the prince, never knew what happened to the kingdom or that he was a prince. Takeshi and Yuko were happy living their lives like normal people. Yuko would make beautiful kimonos for the people, and she was the most skilled seamstress in the entire prefecture. People would come from miles around to see her pretty patterns."

Kikeiko was beginning to imagine the scene, "I bet she made beautiful blossoms and leaves in the fabric . . . maybe even famous places and pictures!"

"That's right," Isamu smiled. "She could stitch anything from Mount Fuji to sakura blossoms that looked so real you could almost smell them. But a new, evil king moved in to the prefecture and decided to take over."

"Oh no!" Kikeiko was raptly interested. "What was his name?"

"Nishi no Gyokai."

"Western Industry?" Kikeiko frowned. "That's an awful name."

"He was an awful king who thought he could just come in and take what he wanted," Isamu explained. "When the new king came in, he was jealous of Yuko's special abilities and made it so no one would buy any of her beautiful kimonos. Because no one was buying, she was forced to send her son Takeshi away."

"How sad!" Kikeiko's brows furrowed. "You can't tell me a sad story before I sleep! What happens next?"

"It's not all sad," Isamu went on. "Queen Yuko told Prince Takeshi to never forget where he came from and that he did not have to settle for obeying the imposter, King Nishi. She gave him a sash that described his ancestry. It showed his uncle, who was a great warrior, and his father, who was from a famous line of . . . uh, sorcerers . . . erm, sorcerer kings—'cause he's a prince. They had the power of life and death, on both sides. She gave him the sash right before she helped him escape from the evil new king, so he could try to find the comrades of his uncle, the warrior."

"Did he find them? Did he find the comrades?"

"Unfortunately, they had been killed in the many battles throughout the country. They had spread out in different cities; they had stopped being warriors. Only a few remained who were still brave and had the spirit left to fight anymore. Together, they supported each other until the time would be right for them to fight back and make things right, the way they used to be."

"Wow!" Kikeiko grinned. "I'm glad Takeshi found his warrior comrades. What happens next?"

Isamu yawned. "His comrades helped Takeshi learn to fight like they do, and they supported him until he would be strong enough to face the evil king and be reunited with his mother," he stretched his back a little. "His brothers-in-arms looked out for him and made sure he became a very tough guy, and he was pretty happy for a while."

"And, and?"

"And I'm tired. I can tell you the rest of it some other time, okay?" Isamu rubbed his eyes. "I think that's enough story," he picked up the blankets that had fallen away from her face and shoulders and tucked her in, smoothing the edges until his hand brushed hers.

Kikeiko blushed. "Thank you for the good story, Isamu. You're very good at story-telling."

His mouth went dry, and he picked up his hand from hers uncomfortably.

"Well, good night," Isamu stiffly stood up. He snuffed the single lantern in the room and opened the shoji door, letting little trickles of moonlight onto the tatami. He stopped a little before he went out as Kikeiko softly called after him.

"Good night, Isamu."

He turned his head a little. "Sleep well." He closed the door and headed to his room, and the floorboard creaked again when he tapped it with his crutch.

"You look tired, Sano, that you do."

Sanosuke glanced sideways at him over the dark bags beneath his eyes. "It's too early to go to be outside yet, Kenshin."

"But," Kenshin blinked, "it's afternoon already."

Kaoru shifted the bucket in her hands. "It's not that I'm normally surprised when Sanosuke likes to sleep in, since he's lazy all the time," she ignored Sano's glare, "but what happened last night? It's not like you could have gone out anywhere. We're in the middle of Izu forest!"

"I was too itchy to sleep."

"Itchy?" Yahiko joined Kaoru in the question.

"That rash on your back looks bad," Kenshin fell back behind Sanosuke and pointed to his uncovered shoulders, "that it does. Is that why you didn't get out of bed for breakfast?"

"This big lug thought it'd be a good idea to wear contaminated clothing," Megumi sighed, explaining as the group walked up the mountain path. "Don't touch it, or the rash could spread to you," she warned at Kenshin's pointing finger.

Kenshin snapped his hand back.

Sanosuke groaned as everyone stared at his backside. While his jacket was drying from its thorough scrubbing, he had taken to not wearing any covering on his back at all—anything touching his back seemed to inflame it further. He had even spent the whole night trying to sleep on his belly, an unaccustomed and ultimately unsuccessful sleeping position for him. "Well, don't treat me like I've got some sort of plague or something!" he barked at the rest of the group, who had taken to walking quite a distance behind him.

They took a few steps closer, but not too many.

"In any case," Sano grumbled, "the fox doctor says the spring should wash off the poison plant oil stuff, so it'll be no problem soon."

"Toxin, not poison. It's classified as a toxic plant," Megumi adjusted the towel in her bucket. "It's not that strong of an irritant."

"It's irritating enough for me right now," Sanosuke huffed, "and you're not helping any!"

"Sanosuke," Kaoru interrupted his ranting, "won't the oil spread in the hot springs? I mean, to other people in the same pool?"

"I think it would," Kenshin mused.

"Eww, Sanosuke, you can get your own pool," Yahiko started walking up ahead of him contemptuously. "I'm not catching that nasty skin rash."

"It's probably for the best," Megumi assented. "There is a slight chance the oil could sit on top of the water and spread to someone who's sitting too close, even if you rinse yourself before getting into the hot spring."

Sanosuke's face fell. "So I'm quarantined even when I'm supposed to be relaxing with friends?"

"It's not our fault you got into the itchy plant stuff," Yahiko and Kaoru stated at the same time.

"Some friends," Sano pouted sarcastically.

"In any case," Kaoru said as the roof of the hot spring house came into view, "this will help you get better, so you shouldn't complain too much."

"Hm," Megumi smirked with a finger to her chin, "I suppose after this, your back might be cleansed enough to put your shirt back on tonight, without Sir Ken having to wash it again. Of course, if he has to wash it again tomorrow, I'd be more than willing to help," she leaned into Kenshin's shoulder in a fluid motion, a sly look on her face.

Kaoru reddened. "Oh, Megumi?" her voice strained in defensiveness. "Are you sure you won't be sad to see Sanosuke put all his clothes back on? You spent a long time rubbing his back last night . . . maybe you'll miss seeing-"

"That was strictly professional," Megumi snapped quickly, narrowing her eyes menacingly back at her.

"Now, now," Kensin, caught in the middle yet again, tried to prevent the oncoming fight. "We're here, that we are!"

A quick rinse and a strip-down from everyone, and they were soaking up the minerals of the hot springs.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to go in just towels? Remember last time—"

"They wouldn't dare," Kaoru stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, Sanosuke's separated in the farthest pool, and Kenshin will keep Yahiko from anything."

"Oh?" Megumi's tone was mischievous as she slowly slipped her foot in the water. "And what about Sir Ken himself?"

The question caught Kaoru off-guard. "W-what about him?"

"Well, he is a man, you know," Megumi slid her towel to her hair, bundling up the tresses and exposing her pale neck. "Or did you forget?"

"Of course I didn't forget that!" Kaoru blushed, insulted.

"So then, you just don't think he wants to see you?" Megumi slid away from ripples Kaoru made as the girl stepped in the spring. Fox ears seemed to spring up through her towel. "Perhaps because he doesn't think of you as a real woman?"

"Megumi," Kaoru's face was menacing, "you're pushing it."

"Yay, hot springs!" Ayame charged ahead and splashed into the hot water in a flurry of dark hair and towels.

"Splashy, splashy!" Suzume called after her sister from the hot spring house.

"Careful, you two!" Kaoru switched gears, concerned.

Megumi rubbed the water from her eyes, "That's right, you don't want to fall and hurt yourself, Suzume."

"Splashy, splashy!" Suzume continued racing, kicking up sheets of water as she entered the spring, only to plop right onto her face as she lost her footing. Her bare bottom peeked out from the spring like a pair of pale peach islands before she sprang up to right herself, all tears and a scrape on her forehead. "Owwww!"

"Oh, Suzume," Megumi chided gently, "come here," the lady doctor took her in one arm and brushed some hair from her forehead to examine the scrape. Suzume's eyes were big and watery. "Well, it doesn't look like it should hurt that badly. It should heal in a day or so with no scarring."

"But, but—" Suzume's breath threatened a sob.

"I know," Megumi used some of the spring water to clean out any residual dirt from the wound with a soft hand, "you're just embarrassed. It's okay, we won't tell anybody that you fell."

Suzume's eyes seemed to revert back to their normal size, and she rejoined her sister, who had begun to toy with some of the leaves on the other end of the pool.

Megumi's gaze followed the girls as they picked and examined the plants growing at the edge of the spring. The steam from the spring drifted up to her face and she smelled the mineral salts rising up, blurring the two girls before her eyes.

"Megumi?"

"Hm?" the lady doctor blinked.

"You're good with them," Kaoru smiled, forgetting their prior tension. "I know you've only been established at Doctor Gensai's clinic a short while, but you seem to really belong there, like a family."

Megumi looked slightly puzzled. "Thank you?" she responded, for lack of better words.

"Have you thought about it?"

"Thought about what?"

"Family," Kaoru sidled over to sit near the older woman. "I mean, in the future. You must have suitors who come to the clinic."

Megumi looked distant before she defensively quipped, "What use have I for suitors when Sir Ken is around?"

"M-Megumi," Kaoru's eye twitched. "You're not really serious about Kenshin, are you?"

"And who said I wasn't?" the vixen pursed her lips.

"But," Kaoru insisted, "don't you have feelings for . . . for someone else?"

"Where are you coming up with this, Kaoru?" Megumi crossed her arms over her submerged chest. "You keep making assumptions about my love life that you have no right to make and no reason to pry into."

Kaoru looked down, slightly shamed. "I-I'm sorry, Megumi. I just . . . with Kenshin . . . I wish you would stop. I mean, he's . . . he's the only one I . . . I—"

"Hmph," Megumi looked at the girl, imperious. "The only one? You still think there is only one love for a person? How . . . immature."

"What are you saying?" Kaoru's brows furrowed together.

"Only a child would believe that there is only one love for a person in this world."

"Then you don't," Kaoru continued, "believe in true love?"

"The number of great loves in one's life doesn't lessen the truth of them," Megumi's tone was remote. Her reflection in the spring water rippled the deep maroon of her eyes back at her. "If that were so, then I could no longer hope . . . to find happiness in love."

"Megumi," Kaoru's voice softened with concern, "what do you mean?"

"What are they talking about?" Yahiko cupped a hand to his ear as close to the bushes that divided the hot springs as he dared.

"Chick stuff, probably," Sanosuke grumbled from his side of the spring. "What does it matter? It won't be anything to do with you."

"It's been too quiet over there," Yahiko huffed back to his spot. "I just don't like it when they might be planning something."

"I'm sure they're not up to anything," Kenshin smiled. "In any case, we should just enjoy our time here, that we should. It's not every day we get a chance to relax like this."

"You got it!" Sanosuke agreed enthusiastically. "What do you say we make the most of it?" He suddenly pulled out a large jug of sake and pounded it down on the rocks dividing their pools.

"S-Sano," Kenshin started, surprised. "Where did you get that?"

"I brought it up with me." Sano shrugged. "C'mon, take some. You said you wanted to relax." Sanosuke took a big swig from it before wiping the top and slamming it back down with a refreshed outward breath. "Nothing like a drink to warm ya up in a warm spring, huh?"

"I'll drink to that!" Yahiko stretched an arm to the jug.

"Yahiko, are you sure you should?"

"Aww, c'mon, Kenshin. He can have a few sips," Sanosuke laughed. "But just to be clear, you're the one fishing him out if he sinks, okay?"

Kenshin sighed, but asked for the sake after Yahiko had his turn.

"Megumi?" Kaoru questioned the other woman's silence.

Megumi seemed an alabaster statue of herself, stiff and cold despite the heat from the water swirling around her. Her eyes hard as garnet stones, they refused to meet with Kaoru's concerned face. "When I left Aizu," Megumi stated, as if she were far away, disconnected from the words that passed her tight red lips, "I was glad to be apprenticed to anyone. There were very few—very few—doctors who would allow a woman to study under them as an apprentice. I was so grateful, so overwhelmed that after all that time searching for my brothers and my mother and coming up empty . . . I was grateful that I could have a chance to practice my family's profession. I was grateful not to be alone . . ."

"Here, let me show you," he takes the pestle from her hand, and takes her fingers in his own. "Place your fingertips on the plant here, and press. Do you feel that?"

Megumi's face tinges pink at the contact. "Y-yes, Doctor Mizushima." The sun is barely shining up from the eastern horizon, and the edges of the first rays rise over the tops of packed houses, glancing off the tiles of the adjacent roofs and dotting the ceiling inside the small room set aside as a pharmacy. Mizushima's hands move Megumi's fingers, guiding them and helping them to travel in small circles over the plant. His hands and breath are warm as she feels one on the skin of her hand and the other on her neck.

"You see," Mizushima instructs, "you remember what we talked about before? Touch is extremely important. You need to know where internal parts are without guesswork, without diagrams."

As both their fingers work together along the exterior of the plant, they cover the slight lump where the seed is located. Pressing around it, they manage to slowly squeeze it out of its green sheath, allowing it to drop into the stone mortar. His hands maintain their hold on hers.

"I . . . I still have a lot to learn," Megumi smiles, slightly embarrassed.

"We all do," Mizushima breathes, his face close to hers, "even after we've completed the required training, Doctor Takani." He emphasizes her title as he gazes in her eyes. "You never stop learning, and every experience teaches you something," one of his hands trails up her smock to cup her cheek, "new."

"Hiroshi—ah, Doctor Mizushima," Megumi stumbles in her speech, sinking into the hand upon her face. "Thank you."

He laughs a little. "For what? I'm the one who should thank you. Most apprentices are so slow they're a burden, but you—you, Megumi, have a true gift." He pulls her head closer, brushing her forehead with his lips and taking in the scent of her hair. "I'm just glad I could help you in some way."

Megumi sighs, her eyes closed for a moment. "Doctor," the title barely comes out as a whisper, "should we prepare that pain killer for Mr. Takeda now?"

"Yes, I suppose," he is reluctant to let her go. "Why don't you sort it out? I'll finish this up here," he indicates the herbs in the stone mortar. "He should be here to pick it up in an hour or so. He also said he wanted to talk today. Heh," Mizushima gives out a small, sardonic chuckle, "maybe this time he'll negotiate a decent price to pay us for it. That stuff's not cheap, you know."

"I was so blinded," Megumi's eyes were downcast, "I couldn't see the faults he had, what was right in front of me." Her reproach for herself was palpable, "or what would happen because of my loving trust. All I saw was what I wanted to see, and I wanted it so badly . . ."

"Megumi . . ." Kaoru hesitated to reach out to the other woman, feeling helpless.

"And so," Megumi's drained expression turned steely, "after that, I decided I wouldn't glance over anyone's faults anymore. I wouldn't allow myself to be taken in anymore . . . so when I met Sir Ken, how could I not feel love for him?"

Kaoru's eyes met Megumi's challenging stare.

"How could I not feel love for a man whose only discernable fault is an abundance of compassion?"

"I—but, I—" Kaoru could return no words to her.

"So do not tell me that a woman can only love once in this world," Megumi chided the girl. "You may have only felt its sting just now, but the human heart is capable of any number of things, least of all loving more than one person."

Kaoru's head fell a little at her elder's castigation, examining her face in the spring's reflection and noting the girlish features of her youthful face.

"There is no 'one and only' for a person. Do you truly believe that Sir Ken hasn't had a love in the past himself?"

"I . . . I had never really thought about it," Kaoru's voice was small.

"He's twenty-eight. Surely a heart as great as Sir Ken's would have found love some time before now. Thinking otherwise isn't just immature," Megumi stated coolly, "it's selfish."

"I'm sorry," Kaoru felt her stomach tighten. "I didn't mean . . ."

"I will never," Megumi went on, "give up my love for Sir Ken. I can't. I can't forget my love, or respect, or admiration of that man. And if our hearts should meet, I would not hesitate."

Kaoru's sad silence created a long pause between them.

"Of course," Megumi's expression softened to the girl, "neither should you."

The young woman, feeling so much more a little girl after Megumi's admissions, looked up to be greeted with a soft and understanding smile. Megumi's delicate fingers held the Kamiya girl's shoulder reassuringly.

"True love isn't something that happens suddenly, or only once in a lifetime," her words sounded like the weathered honesty of experience, "true love is the meeting, the understanding, of two hearts."

"So," Kaoru started to speak, encouraged, "we'll just have to see whose heart meets Kenshin's first then."

As Ayame and Suzume's laughter floated around the spring, oblivious to the prior conversation, the two women sat in a sympathetic silence, as if looking upon the newly opened gate leading to an amicable understanding.

"Hey, gals!" Yahiko's voice pierced through the hedges boisterously. "We're gettin' wrinkly o'er—hic—here," his words tripped between hiccoughs, "an' we're outta sake! Lessgo home!"

"Be careful, Yahiko, and don't slip!" Kenshin's worried voice followed.

"Lay off 'im, Kenshin!" Sanosuke's barrel-laugh rumbled. "Let'im have his fun."

"C'mon, we gotta get more from th' house!"

"You shouldn't be walking so recklessly on the wet rocks, Yahiko, that—"

There was a distinctly Yahiko-sounding plop and a splash.

"—you shouldn't . . ."

Megumi and Kaoru blinked at each other until they could not help but laugh.

"And . . . that . . . should . . . do it!" Mikamura smiled as he wiped the sweat off his brow. The particularly heavy oil lamp stood securely on the highest shelf above the slender man as he descended his step ladder.

Mikamura adjusted his tie as he hopped down. "All I have left is sweeping the entrance, and we're closed for the night," he smiled to no one in particular. Picking up his broom from the corner, he made his way to the front of the shop.

"Excuse me?" A voice called from the entrance.

"Oh!" Mikamura set his broom aside and ran a hand through his short grey-brown hair. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Are you closed?" a pleasant-looking young man stood outside to meet Mikamura's gaze. He held a Japanese umbrella slung across his shoulders, pushing his thin, short ponytail to fall around his neck rather than behind it. "I was hoping I might come just before."

"Come in, come in," Mikamura smiled insistently. "I was just cleaning up, but we can stay open for a little while longer."

"Great," the young man smiled. He stepped in, shifting the umbrella to one shoulder and smiling up to his light brown eyes, guarded by short, messy strands of hair.

Mikamura scrambled a few cluttered items out of the way so the customer could enter easily. "So," he said between excited breaths, "what can I interest you in? Lamps? Shaving razors?"

The young man laughed lightly. "I'm not sure I need much by way of those," he pointed to his clean face.

"Ah, yes of course," Mikamura understood sheepishly.

"I was wondering, actually, if you had any books."

"Books? Oh, yes, books!" Mikamura snapped to. "Yes, I've got loads of books! Anything particular in mind?"

The young man was gazing around the shop, as if to appraise everything that met his eye. "Hm?" he stopped examining a pocket watch he had picked up. "Oh, I was looking for some Western literature, actually. You wouldn't happen to have any, would you?"

"Would I?" Mikamura flashed a grin. "My boy, you're looking at the prime collector and translator of Western books in all of Tokyo!"

"You don't say?" Something in the young man's tone did not convey the correct amount of surprise for the statement.

"Oh yes, I've got everything under the western sun! What are you looking for? Travel logs? Adventure stories?"

"I'm afraid to admit," the young man fiddled with the end of his umbrella, "that I can't read the books in the original language, though. Would you still be able to help me?"

"Of course, of course! I told you, I translate the books too. Any book I get, I translate it so anyone in Tokyo can read it."

"Anyone?"

"Yes," Mikamura energetically started going through the titles on a bookshelf in the corner. "Granted, depending on the book, the language can get a bit tricky, even in the translation, but I've got readers from all walks. The sweet shop two blocks down? He gets books for Western candies that the folks just go nuts for! And the lady doctor at the Oguni Clinic? She gets the latest medical journals from Germany and the Netherlands. Even the tavern at the end of the street—the barkeep can't get enough of those horror stories that American writer makes—made . . . what's his name? Popo? Poe! You'd like that, I'm sure. Very interesting, sort of detective stories, you know."

"Yes," the young man sounded distracted. "That sounds good. I'll take one of those detective books."

"And here we are!" the merchant's hands snatched up a cheaply bound brown book. "It's a collection I've made of the short stories. You can come back to me if you want another, or you feel up to reading the poetry."

"I'm not much of a man for poetry," the customer reached into his sleeve to pull out the money for the book. "How much?" He held out a few coins.

Mikamura quickly counted what he saw in the boy's hand with a tilt of his round spectacles. "That should be it. Can I interest you in anything else?"

"No, I think this will be more than enough," the young man placed his coin purse back in his sleeve and began to head out of the shop.

"Wait! You almost forgot your book!" Mikamura dashed up to him and thrust the book out to the young man's chest. The customer slowly took hold of it with his free hand.

Mikamura looked at the umbrella inquisitively. "Is it really going to rain? It didn't look like it would earlier."

The young man shifted the umbrella from one hand to the other, placing the book under his arm. "Oh yes," he said cheerfully as he walked out of the front of the shop. "There is a storm coming soon." Outside the store, he called back in pleasantly, "Thank you for all of your help, sir!"

"You're very welcome! Come back any time and tell me how you find the stories!"

Walking a few feet from the shop, the young man rolled his eyes. The sound of his sandals scraped the hard dirt road, which was soon lost in the bustle of the evening rush of townsfolk closing up and heading home. Among the bustle of bright kimonos and the dinner rush of the taverns and restaurants, nobody paid any attention when the young man dropped his newly purchased book in a trash heap and continued walking.