A/N: Aaaand, the action begins. I realize this isn't a typical Rurouni Kenshin fic, but the number of SanoXKaoru shippers out there is dangerously low. Even if this isn't your cup of tea, thanks for reading.

Normal (?)

Things between you and Sano are…

Normal.

You think.

Yahiko is only ever out of the dojo when he's eating, sleeping, or working at the Akabeko – it seems he's serious about beating Kenshin when he returns in eight months. He'll never best Kenshin, but to be fair, despite being so young, Yahiko has improved greatly.

You watch from the sidelines as he cuts the air with his bokken, your arms crossed. Occasionally you offer words of reform, such as, "Straighter. A little more force. Try not to turn so sharply."

Sometimes Sano joins you. Like today, when he's present he sits at the far end, picking something in his teeth, and watching in silence. Your eyes meet – he gives you a delayed grin, and you smile back politely.

Things between you are…

Normal.

He no longer avoids you, for one. You speak shortly but kindly to each other and share a laugh over trivial things at least once a day. And lately, he helps you to do laundry every night. You never talk about what happened at the festival, and it's starting to slowly drive you mad.

Just because he rejected you doesn't mean you no longer like him. You don't even know why you like him; he's a self-righteous, pompous ass sometimes. But… You like him. Your heart skips a beat when your hands accidently brush underwater on laundry nights. Your cheeks flush when he smiles softly at you.

There's nothing you can do to fix it.

"Yahiko, that's enough," you order, ripping your gaze away from the man. "Do five-hundred swings."

The brat drops his bokken in shock. "Five-hundred?!"

"Don't like it?" you ask. "Okay, Seven-hundred."

"Hey, ugly-!"

"Do you want to be a match for Kenshin or not?" you ask. "You've only got seven months left to train."

Immediately his chest puffs out. "Fuck that, ugly, I'll do a thousand by midnight!" He does start, instantly, yelling each number of swings in a voice that rivals thunder. "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!"

You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. Catching Sano's eye, you nod in the direction of the doors and he quietly gets up and follows you out. You shut the sliding doors just as Yahiko's cries of "ELEVEN! TWELVE! THIRTEEN!" are muffled.

Sano yawns, arms stretched above his head. "A thousand? Isn't that a bit harsh?"

"He's the one who said it, not me," you say, shrugging.

The man chuckles and sighs. "He's gotten a lot better already, hasn't he?"

"And he doesn't even realize it," you affirm warmly. "I'm proud of him – he's the strongest thirteen year old in all of Japan! Maybe even in all of Asia!"

"No way," he laughs, playfully nudging your shoulder. "Kid's a samurai, not a martial artist. They have schools dedicated to physical strength on the Mainland. Bunches of 'em."

You blink. "The Mainland? Sano, have you been to China?"

"When I was on the run," he admits. "Hell, Missy, I went to dozens of places. I was gone for over a year – I'll admit I spent three months of that year in China, but I visited tons of different countries all over during the other nine."

You never knew this about Sano. You smile. "Like where? I've never been outside Japan."

"Tons of locations. The world's a big place, Missy. Huge. I stayed for nine weeks in a village in Vietnam, made friends with the locals. Couldn't speak a lick of their language, and they couldn't speak a lick of mine, but what we had was real. Friendship extends past language barriers."

Amazed, you ask, "Where else?"

"I hitched a ride to Thailand with a traveling caravan. Stayed by the temples there for days; it was so beautiful I didn't want to leave. I spent the next four months traveling from island to island in Malaysia. We stopped for a few weeks in Taiwan, and then I spent the rest of the year in Joseon*. You'll never guess: I even met the King."

You gasp. "The King? No way! What was he like?"

"Let's just say I'm better looking," he says, grinning.

You laugh.

"Hey, what should we do for dinner?" Sano asks. "I don't think the brat's going to be finished any time soon…"

From beyond the walls of the dojo, you hear Yahiko yelling, "EIGHTY-SEVEN!"

"Akabeko?" you suggest, holding out your fist.

He stares at you for a moment, and the smile slips off your face. He no longer looks cheerful. He's melancholy, forlorn, and he's looking at you like how you look at things you can't touch. Your heart thumps against your ribs. Finally, Sano, raises his fist and bumps it gently against yours. "Akabeko," he agrees.

You walk into town together without talking much. Your head is spinning. Does he really feel nothing for you? His eyes just then…

In the silence, he cracks a crude joke.

You bust up and he grins his stupid grin again.

Things between you and Sano are normal.

You think.

A/N:

*Jeoseon is modern-day Korea. Sano most likely only visited in the south.

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