Another update! With very little editing yet again, I apologize XD I've been extra busy lately…I leave for Japan in just under 5 months and the prep on this end is astronomical. I've also been asked to help manage the social media for our local culture center here in lil' old Buffalo. We have a big project going right now on Kickstarter and there's a lot of work being put in to posters and advertising in addition to the social media bit. (Heartbeat of Japan! If you're a Western NY local, you love Japan and think big drums are sexy, check it out! Taiko all the way!)

Oh. Plus work. Plus original fiction. Plus pushing my real, live published book! (Which, if you haven't checked it out already, you should. I'm running a Back to School sale for the month of September and the Kindle version is $1 off. Links in my profile!)

I hope all my readers are doing well – just one more chapter and an epilogue after this one! I'm happy/sad that the journey is almost over, but I have my mind on a sequel, so keep your ears to the ground for that ;) As always, constructive reviews, please! I haven't even worked on editing chapter 24 still and I apologize for that. BUT THERE ARE STILL MANY GOOD THINGS TO COME!

All the love,

Nascha

Chapter 25

A Thing Destroyed

It was a quiet morning, but for the sound of the wind in the trees. It whispered, scrabbled and shuddered down from the heavens, trailing sunshine tresses to ground as it went. Midday settled on Kyoto, coating the earth in a burnished summer haze. Little birds flitted to and fro, leaving paths of song and feather dust as the only evidence of their passing. More than one person in the city stopped to smile. A long winter and stormy spring were slipping away. Most tried to ignore the iron-bound clouds building in the west. Those clouds were laced in purple and blue webs of light. Their approach was heralded by the buzz and drone of distant rain. They loomed in threat with grumbling thunder in their mouths.

At long last, they broke over the edge of the city and poured icy torrents into the streets. Westward, the sunny skies sought to hold them back. Still, the storms drew in a collective breath and announced their intent. A cold burst of wind erupted from their leading edge and tore through the heavy humidity in the city below. Hats and fans were sent flying eastward. Doors rattled and signboards clacked.

Down in the market, an old man sat in the shadow of an umbrella. He clutched it tightly, straining to hold it captive against the gale. Beside him, a small boy was unloading a crate of the first early, nanko-ume plums. He covered his eyes to shield them from the dust and grit. The old man looked at him and chuckled.

"Storm coming in, boy. Best get home to your mother."

When the wind had passed, the child stood up and gave a hasty bow. He left without a word, stumbling on in the same direction in advance of the storms.

The old man watched him go and did not get up. He let his eyes move from the boy and towards the mountains in the east. They loomed, still outside of the storm's shadows. As he watched, he could see them come alive, the wind first tickling up the edges before tousling through the tree's as though they were nothing more than the hair on a maiden's head.

"Going to be bad." He muttered to himself, rising onto creaking bones. "Worst one yet. Sky's going to howl."

Indeed, up in the mountains, it was doing just that. The wind burst up through the woods and roared. Here though, it was not the fiercest thing. A crowd of wedding-goers barely noticed as it passed. Indeed, they were focused on the man standing just below them. At the bottom of the shrine's stairs, he held his sword aloft and cried out a moment before the wind drew itself up.

"Haru Namataga! Step away from her now."

The words and wind faded. The woods grew eerily quiet. In their wake, the air crashed down heavy and hot. It was only when the last echo of the words came ringing back that anyone managed to react.

It was the man being addressed. Haru Namataga looked down at Aoshi Shinomori and simply laughed. He brought his hands up gave three slow claps.

"At last. You've become a man."

"Haru." Misao whispered a warning.

"Relax, my dear. Wait here, will you? I shall only be a moment."

Misao flushed and strangled the outburst trying to claw out her. She brought a hand to her throat and bit her tongue so hard she tasted copper.

Along the edges of the crowd, those gathered had begun to shuffle their feet and whisper. A group of officers eyed Aoshi warily, hands on belts and sword hilts. They watched Haru, who settled their fussing with a little wave. He pulled of his gloves and stepped away from the altar.

"Have you no sense of decency, Shinomori? Go home, will you? Or go take a walk. You can join us for the party afterwards, once you've regained your senses."

"My senses are perfectly clear." Aoshi spit. "There will be no wedding today. There will be no party. What will happen is that you will walk away from here and never show yourself at Aoiya again."

Haru stopped. He was halfway down the steps.

"I will? I think you misunderstand the situation. You are not wanted here. By anyone."

A murmur of opposition rose up on the portion of the crowd where most of Misao's closest friends stood. Always the peacemaker, Omasu's voice rang out.

"Haru, please. Come back to the altar." Then, with a blade's edge in her tone she added. "Aoshi. Enough."

"No." Aoshi snapped. "He will come away and leave, or I shall make him."

A collective gasp, punctuated by another laugh from Haru, ran amongst the guests. Mr. Namataga could take no more. He stepped forward, shrugging off his wife's hand.

"Shinomori-san, there has been plenty of time for this before now. What is the meaning of this? Do you mean to ruin Misao's day? She shan't forgive you for this."

Aoshi's shoulders sagged a touch. He shifted his gaze to the older man. Mr. Namataga was standing with his hands in front of him, raised in supplication. Aoshi was still choosing his response when Misao appeared beside Mr. Namataga.

"Please, Otosama. Don't trouble yourself. Please, come away."

In deference to the dismay in her voice, Mr. Namataga patted the hand she had placed on his arm and stepped back to be beside his wife once more. Mrs. Namataga was watching Misao with shining eyes. Misao took heart in that and turned to address the men. It was not to be.

Haru was already speaking again. "Shinomori, I hate to cause you such pain, but Misao has made her decision." He appealed to reason. "She had her time to chose and she has done so. It is no slight to you tha – "

"Ah, yes." Aoshi slashed his sword downward and took a step. Someone screamed. "She has made her decision. However, did she know that she was choosing to marry a common criminal?"

The response was immediate. Several of Haru's family shouted in protest. Mr. Namataga began extricating himself from his wife's grasp. One or two officers drew their ceremonial swords. On Misao's side, Omasu was pale and shaking. Kaoru tossed Kenji into Tsubame's arms and was soon holding Misao back, growling admonishments in her dear friend's her ear.

Haru appeared to lose his composure for the first time. He tensed and the hand on his sword began to shake. Before he answered the accusation, he had to clear his throat.

"What on earth are you talking about? Have you gone mad?" he hissed between his teeth.

Aoshi shifted his gaze from Haru to the officers behind him. He smiled, but there was nothing of mirth in it. With a chuckle, he sheathed his blade and started up the steps again. Haru stood still as stone as Aoshi approached and went around him. Now standing just paces from the altar, he addressed the officers directly.

"A fine day for a wedding. Here you all are, in your finery. Where were you before, though? I'll remind you." He now addressed everyone gathered. "These men were supposed to be guarding something very precious today. Something secret, brought in just this morning on a ship sailing into the harbor. A pearl made for kings. They thought that secret would be their greatest weapon, but there was a rat in their midst."

Quite suddenly, all the officers looked as though each and every one of them had eaten just a little too must wasabi in one bite.

Aoshi delivered his final blow. He looked to the sky, at the glaring blue above, and spoke. Bitterness left his lips along with words like a prayer. "Yes, what a lovely day for a wedding indeed."

Mr. Namataga, who had been quietly quarreling with his wife, finally pulled free and stepped forward. Aoshi readied himself, but it was not he that Mr. Namataga addressed.

His voice was thick, drenched in the misery of disappointment.

"Haru, what is this man saying? What have you done?"

It was as though and entire mountain had fallen upon Haru. He slumped. He brought a hand before his face. Inner-agony struck and he crossed his other arm over his stomach. The wave passed all at once and when he turned, his eyes were as dark as the farthest points of the night sky.

"So this was what you planned. It was not enough to end this union. It was not enough to steal her heart back. Destruction. I wonder: is that all you know, Shinomori?"

Aoshi, for the first time, looked saddened by his own actions. Still, there was no regret in him when he responded. "You left me no choice."

"Ah, choice, there has been much talk of that lately." Haru laughed, long and loud. "Choice indeed! Here is what I have chosen."

He drew his sword. Aoshi mirrored him.

"I have chosen to wed the woman I love, and no man shall stop me. I have chosen to answer your accusation. Yes! I chose this day of all days to take the greatest vow of my life, and I chose the day because of that precious object you speak of. What harm in that? So I have given someone the opportunity to steal away a precious gem. My men will stand beside me. I'm certain you understand loyalty, Shinomori."

"I know about loyalty than you ever will, boy." Aoshi exhaled venom and fire.

His fervor went unheard.

"Why?"

Misao's question rang clear. It was not for Aoshi. For a moment Haru looked to her, and there was only truest love in his eyes. There was also an apology.

"Because, my dear," he smiled. "I wanted to provide, and the opportunity presented itself. We would not have wanted for anything any longer."

A single tear slid down her cheek.

"What made you think I was wanting? I don't think I ever wanted for anything." She paused and covered her face with her sleeve. "Not until I met you."

That statement undid him. Haru unraveled, and he chose the path of anger downwards. His face twisted into an animal grimace. With a cry, he launched at Aoshi.

Thunder crashed and rolled down the sides of the hill like a gong. The wedding guests flew into panic. The officers didn't seem certain if they should intervene. Meanwhile, Mr. Namataga was comforting his wife as she fretted. Omasu had fainted and the other women were fanning her, casting wary glances at the two men as they viciously sparred. Several people fled down the steps and away from the shrine.

Aoshi and Haru clashed, swords chiming and hissing against each other again and again. Haru stumbled and barely caught himself on one step. Sensing further danger from this, he snarled and gave Aoshi a hard push backwards. Aoshi was not so clumsy as Haru and regained control quickly. It only offered Haru a small advantage, but he took it. He jumped past Aoshi and fled into the trees.

Aoshi was immediately in pursuit.

Through the trees, past older past older parts of the shrine where crumbling torii rested, they went, clashing now and again. Now, on the real field of battle, it was clear that Aoshi was the better swordsman. Their duel, so many days before, had meant nothing. Haru was doing nothing more than delaying the inevitable, but he did so with as much cunning as any other warrior. He dodged behind trees, wove amongst the bamboo and used it as his shield.

Once, he stumbled and Aoshi missed him by a hair's breadth. Haru scrabbled to his feet and turned just in time to block a second slash. Steel rang, a blade slipped and Haru cried out sharply. Blood oozed down from beneath a torn sleeve, running in streaks down his wrist and onto his palm. He snarled and was on his feet, running again.

It might have gone on like that forever, but Haru finally tripped and fell so hard that it forced the air from his lungs. He wheezed and moaned and dropped his sword. A short struggle to his knees was ended by a vicious kick. Aoshi's shoe connected with his wounded arm and he was whipped onto his side. Haru's mouth worked noiselessly. He rolled onto his back and rolled his eyes upwards. Tears trailed down his cheeks and Aoshi hesitated, sword raised. It was enough to allow Haru to finally suck in a lungful of air and draw up onto his elbows.

To his credit, he had not soiled himself.

"Get up."

Aoshi growled and Haru leveled his gaze. Black hatred flooded his eyes.

"You shall kill me either way." He coughed and spit. "I would rather die down here. It will make you show what a monster you truly are. You destroy everything you touch."

"Stand and finish this!"

"It is finished." Haru screamed and drew to his knees. "You can take nothing else from me."

"There is one thing yet. You shall never lay a hand upon Misao again. You shall not leave these woods."

"Enough. Do it."

Haru clutched at his arm. Aoshi's nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. He didn't feel even the smallest measure of regret.

"Very well then."

He raised his blade.

The skies opened.

A scream rang out, but it was not Haru.

"NO!"

Before Aoshi could do anything more, Misao's voice tore through the rain and thunder. She came from behind and caught him around the waist. As she did so, she lost her footing. Her forward motion carried her around front of him. Wailing and weeping, she reached up and grabbed his sleeves. Her weight as she sank to her knees and his shock, brought Aoshi down as well.

"Stop, stop, stop." She begged and buried her face in his chest. Aoshi's sword arm lowered until it rested at his side, fingers now loosely threaded around the hilt of his kodachi.

He could not speak. He only sputtered rain and stared past her.

She clutched the cloth of his light shinobi costume's sleeves. She shrieked wordlessly against his neck for a moment. It was only when she had wrung herself out that she managed to beg. "No, you mustn't. Just let him go. Let him go. They will come after you. Please, please! I cannot lose you again."

As she railed on, Aoshi watched as Haru struggled to his feet. The light in his eyes flickered; a measure of love replaced the hate. He gave Misao a look of longing, then meeting Aoshi's eyes, he reached down and picked up his sword again.

Misao brought a hand up then and pulled his head down until his eyes were against her shoulder. She clutched at his arm once more and whispered.

"I cannot lose you, Aoshi Shinomori. Do you hear me?"

"You never did." He replied. He breathed her in. For a moment, Haru ceased to exist.

Then Aoshi felt the icy edge of a sword press against the back of his neck. Reality came crashing back. He froze and in response, Misao looked up. She moaned and let go of one of his arms again. Time slowed. She reached up over his shoulder and wrapped a hand around Haru's blade.

Soft as silk, Aoshi whispered. He raised his head and looked up at Haru askance.

"Can you live with it?"

Haru's upper lip curled into a sneer, but something in his eyes died. Silent, he pulled the sword back and dropped it.

Over the rain, the sound of others in pursuit reached them. Precious seconds passed before Haru's fellow officers came over the hillside and into sight. They paused only a moment before stalking forward. Haru ended it all there. His face was blank and empty as he shuffled towards them with hands held out in front of him. The first man to reach him paused and looked beyond him to where Aoshi and Misao were still huddled together in the underbrush.

He did the best thing anyone had yet done that day. He yanked Haru forward, and spun him around. As Haru stumbled to his knees, he kicked him squarely in the back. Haru was still sputtering leaves when his fellow, loyal officer dragged him to his feet. The others reached them then. Without out a word, the whole pack of them retreated, dragging Haru by the sleeves. Only one stopped to bow to Aoshi, who nodded once in response.

They were barely out of sight when Misao took two fistfuls of Aoshi's hair and began to kiss him. She pressed her lips to both of his now-closed eyes. She whispered her love along the line of his jaw. Finally, she gently left her mark in the hollow at the base of his throat. He gasped.

The rain continued on, and soon enough, the sound of others coming up and over the hill filled the clearing again. Ochika and Hiko came first, shadowed by Megumi and Kenshin. Then Sano, Yahiko and Saito joined them.

They found nothing there, just one of Misao's hairpins and signs of battle written in leaves and blood.

They called, but received no answer. They searched and found no sign of them.

...

When they all returned to the shrine, Rin was just puffing up the stairs. The rest of the guests were sheltering miserably under umbrellas and the inside the shrine itself. They had just witnessed the groom being led back through the trees and away, bound by the very police force he had recently been a part of. They had seen how he was bloodied and bruised and there were many conversations rumbling on in lowered voices.

Megumi went directly to where Kaoru sat on the steps. Kaoru was cradling Kenji in one arm and fanning Omasu there. When Megumi leaned in and whispered something to her, her eyes widened. They then narrowed again and she looked at her husband. She and Kenshin exchanged a grim frown.

Rin finally made it to them at that moment. He learned all he needed to know from the looks on their faces. His shoulders sagged.

There might have been more discussion amongst them, but just then, Mr. Namataga came blustering down the steps. He had peeled himself away from where his family had gathered around the priest and the shrine. There were storm clouds in his eyes fiercer than those threatening overhead.

He paused halfway down the stairs and, when he addressed them all, those gathered paused as though sunlight had broken through the clouds.

"A most unfortunate series of events have transpired here today." He intoned dolefully. "However, there is much too much food, prepared by the honorable Miss Tae and Miss Sae for us to waste it." Both women bowed at the sound of their name and he continued. "Though there is no bride and no groom, there is much sake to be had. All of you are most welcome to join us at our home for the promised refreshments." Here, he nodded and motioned towards Mrs. Namataga. She too bowed. "We would be honored to have you join us for an evening meal. I'm afraid I will be delayed for a time. I must go down to the police station to sort this out. However, I will join you later in the evening. Please, do feel free to partake. My honorable wife shall lead the way."

With that, he was gone like a puff of smoke or a single tears rolling swiftly down the hillside. Mrs. Namataga began to speak then, but Aoshi and Misao's friends barely heard. They were already deep in conversation.

"Gone, you say?" Okina was the most dismayed.

Omasu, still half-swooning, muttered her replay. "But of course. This is Aoshi we're speaking of."

Megumi gave her a wilting look. "We should go. There is nothing to be done."

"But what of Miss Misao? I worry for her, that I do." Kenshin's face was the grimmest. Only Kaoru's eyes matched his concern.

"We should look for them." She agreed. With a shaky hand, she continued to brush Omasu's hair from her face. "They can't have gone far."

"I disagree."

This was from Hiko. No one commented on the fact that Ochika had gone to him and was now sheltering in his arms. Hiko appeared unmoved, but where his hands joined at her elbow, his knuckles were white.

"Give Shinomori some credit." He rumbled. "Can you see the girl facing this lot?"

Hiko jerked his head backwards. Behind him, a majority of the Namataga family was tearing their hair and gnashing their teeth. It was clear which half of the wedding party was more distraught. All the same, it was those from Aoiya who Mrs. Namataga approached next. She was wringing her hands.

"Had you any idea?"

The women shook their head's outright, but she seemed not to notice. It was Kenshin's eyes that she sought. Kenshin could not betray his honesty. He nodded once and began to apologize. He was halfway into another awkward bow when she raised a hand.

"But you could not betray the confidence of a friend. That out of anything else I have seen here today, is something I can understand." She bowed again. "Please, will you come to the house?"

Here she looked at Omasu with such desperation that it drew the other woman from her stupor. "Mrs. Namataga, I –"

" – please. These are all his relatives." Mrs. Namataga whispered. "I don't think I can bear the gossip alone."

"You won't have to. I'm sure they will join us, lady."

Everyone started, An elegant woman swept up from behind Mrs. Namataga and put a hand on the other woman's shoulder.

She was beautiful, that was to be certain. In fact, Yahiko and Sano both blossomed into a blush so fierce that Kaoru burst out laughing and had to stifle her giggles with a palm. It was just as well; the other men seemed equally taken in by her entrance, and Kenshin might have earned a scolding from Kaoru if she had heard the manner in which he uttered his quiet "oro?" at the newcomer's appearance.

"Oh! Thank heavens you're here too. Your husband knows Himura-dono, does he not?" Mrs. Namataga was visibly relieved.

"I believe so. Old friends." The woman's eyes sparkled: refractive sapphires, in the dim light. "From the war."

"Ah, friends, have you met Goro-san's wife? This is the Lady Tokio."

The woman bowed. She was willowy, tall and practically painted into a silver kimono dappled with embroidered water droplets and reed fronds. A delicate glass comb, with a carved ivory dragonfly, was perched atop her head. She was not a young woman but she was exquisite. If the other women had guessed, they might have said she was made of the finest porcelain. Any lines on her face were made by the most delicate and astute brush strokes. They looked more like artistically crackled paint than actual wrinkles.

They might have been jealous. Instead, they were in awe.

"Ah, speaking of my husband! He's here and where did – oh! –

Eiji-chan, come here."

A young man, no older than Yahiko, separated from the crowd at the shrine and crept down the steps. He was well dressed and groomed. If he was nervous, the only sign was the way that he gripped the sword at his side. He was dressed as a police officer, but he didn't have the same uniform or swagger as the Kyoto police, recently departed. He swept up beside Tokio and offered a quick bow.

It was clear the two were not related. His face was too broad and open for him to be to the son of Saito Hajime, and he had none of Tokio's delicacy. Still, he greeted her as his mother and placed a hand on her arm briefly.

Only Kenshin did not seem disquieted by this. He nodded at Eiji. It was a gesture that Eiji returned with a measure of warmth. It made Kenshin beam and Kaoru frown.

She did not know who the boy was. She could not have known that her husband had met him on the dusty road from Tokyo to Kyoto so many years before. Luckily, it did not matter. Kaoru's frown settled easily into a smile when she saw the regard between them in full. Eiji gave Kenshin a deep bow, which Kenshin returned almost to the measure (or at least tried, burdened by his son's weight as he was). By the time they were done, Saito had reached them. He nodded at Eiji.

"There you are, boy. Kept the peace here, did you?"

"Of course."

"Well done then. What have I missed?"

With the curt succinctness of a battle-proven general, Tokio told her husband everything. Eiji nodded now and again and filled in details when pressed. From where she sat, Kaoru could imagine the three of them huddled around a map and deciding where troops should be sent next. Even Mrs. Namataga, who was not shaken by much of anything, seemed a little unsure of what she might add to the conversation.

Tokio graciously guided her there.

"So you see, Saito, we are now invited back to the Namataga's. Surely you will join Eiji and I?"

She gave him a look that suggested he'd be a dead man if he thought otherwise. Saito, to his credit, only nodded and turned his gaze to their hostess. He was completely unruffled.

"Mrs. Namataga, we would be honored to join you, as would the rest of us from Aoiya."

Only Omasu was a little out of sorts at this proclamation. She looked out into the trees and brought a hand to the side of her face. Kaoru noted this and whispered something in her ear. Omasu only nodded.

"It is decided then." Mrs. Namataga seemed relieved. She cast a glance over her shoulder and paused to straighten her kimono. "I will go gather everyone else. I trust you can find your way?"

"Indeed." Omasu muttered. "In our sleep."

Mrs. Namataga cast her an apologetic smile and began to struggle up the steps. Without being ordered, Yahiko and Eiji went to her side at once. The two of them helped the older woman upwards to face her husband's relatives. More than one pair of eyes watched them go with pride.

It had been a dreadful afternoon, but in the end, at least there were still small acts of honor to go around. It gave them all strength. It was only after brief hesitation that Tokio sent Saito down to prepare the carriages. Kenshin went as well, after a stern glance from Kaoru. He handed Kenji back to her and hurried down the steps.

It was then that Tokio drew down beside the other women, soiling her kimono on the muddy steps. She insisted she, Kaoru and their infamous husbands share a carriage. As Kaoru wrangled an anxious Kenji, she tried to think of a suitable excuse. She tried out a few half-heartedly: a stomach ache, her son's misbehavior, a need to stay close to Omasu. All of her protests were dismantled easily by Saito's elegant wife.

In the end, there was really no way for her to refuse.

….

They went to an old safe house in Yamashina. Along the way, Misao finally gave in to the weight of the day and Aoshi had to carry her. It was nightfall before they arrived.

In the murky evening light, he set her down and unbarred the door. Without so much of a backwards glance, he ushered her inside and shut it behind them both. She went to the center of the entryway and collapsed. She buried her face in her arms and sobbed while he set to lighting lanterns and seeking out clean, dry clothing and a folded-up futon in the cupboards. When he had finally done with this, he went back to her.

She had gotten to her knees and was staring at nothing. When he said her name, she did not answer. She only shivered.

With an almost detached manner, he began to pull the pins from her hair. Gently, he dried it and ran his fingers through it. When he was done, it lay in a long, damp plait down the center of her back.

Next, he undid her obi and stretched it out along the floor to dry. It was with a certain amount of hesitation, that he began to pull her kimono free. The white silk was soaked with rain, mud and blood. All of Omasu's hard work, it seemed, had been for naught.

He thought Misao might have protested, but she never did. Even when the air caressed her bare skin, she did not move. She only trembled. Keeping his eyes on the floor, Aoshi dried the rest of her with the same tenderness as he had used when braiding her hair. He only looked up at her once he was re-swaddling her in robe that was clearly meant for a man. She swam in the soft fabric.

Night was growing deep. Aoshi too was beginning to feel a chill settled into his bones under the weight of his own wet clothes. Carefully, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed he had prepared.

She sank down into the soft futon and buried herself in blankets. Still silent, she rolled to face away from him and was soon asleep.

Aoshi stood by and watched. He furrowed his brow and by the time she was taking deep, even breaths, he was like a lost little boy. He did not know what else he could do for her.

So he stood and worried over her sleeping form until night was good and deep. It was only when the moon was fully risen that he moved, and only then because of the silvery light that it cast through the windows. It burned him like ice, and he took a seat in the shadows before leaning against the wall.

It was a long time before sleep found him.

…..

The mood at the Namataga's was not exactly dismal, but there was little laughter. Though fewer people than they had expected attended, the sake went twice as fast as planned. Most of those who chose to attend stuck to their own, and the group at Aoiya found themselves gathered in the same corner of the Namataga's sprawling gardens. There, they spoke in hushed whispers and much conjecture regarding where Aoshi and Misao might have gone.

Kaoru, for her part, was quietly exhausted. She sat with a dozing Kenji on her lap. The ride over had been something out of a dream. She, Kenshin, Saito and his wife had shared a carriage, just as promised and Tokio was exhausting if nothing else. To be sure, she was pleasant and bright and kind as anyone could hope. At the same time, there was an edge of haughtiness to her. Kaoru supposed one would have to be so to hold their own against Saito, in social circles, the bedroom or otherwise. In the end, she hadn't been prepared for the other woman's subtle prying or the sparkling laughter that had punctuated it.

Tokio was a force to be reckoned with. Indeed, she was standing beside her aloof husband in the garden, dazzling Omasu and Ochika with tales of high society life and intrigue.

Kaoru had didn't have the energy to join in the prattle. With an absent-minded sigh, she patted Kenji gently on the back and turned to Megumi.

For her part, Megumi was very nearly the calmest out of the lot of them. She was holding a cup of chilled sake in one hand and twirling a lock of hair in another. It had not taken the fox long to tug her hair down out of its elaborate up-do and she was making short work of pulling it straight. Kaoru watched her for a while, as if hypnotized. Then she finally broke.

"For goodness sake, Megumi! Shouldn't we send someone after the two of them? Shiro and Kuro perhaps?" Kaoru heard the strain in her own voice and hated herself for it.

"Certainly not. They have a lot to sort out." Megumi scoffed.

"But did you see Aoshi before he and Haru went off into the forest? I think he was half out of his mind."

"And how is that any different than usual?" Megumi drained her sake and perked a brow.

"What if they're hurt?"

"I hardly doubt the two of them would have been able to make such a clean getaway if that were the case."

Kaoru was about to reply when another voice cut over hers.

"Look at you two! Sharing in some secret, no doubt."

Apparently done telling silly stories, Tokio interrupted their hushed discussion. She swept over and sat beside Kaoru. It took all of Kaoru's strength not to swat at her like a bothersome fly. It was only when Tokio spoke next that she felt guilty for her annoyance.

Her voice was soft, barely louder than the soft pitter-patter of rain.

"I would not fret so, you two. My darling tells me Misao can care for herself well enough. Judging from what I saw today, neither of your friends needs your worry. You may go on feeling it if you like that sort of agony, but do not let it spoil the evening. In any case, Lady Namataga is the one who needs our care this evening."

Indeed, when Kaoru looked out across the yard, she saw Mrs. Namataga standing by herself, wringing her hands and standing under the eaves of her stately home.

Tokio waited while Kaoru called out for Kenshin. He came and took his son into his arms. Once little Kenji was settled there, in the crook of his elbow, he offered his wife a shy little smile.

It made Kaoru's heart thunder in her ears. She returned it. Then, she and Megumi and Tokio excused themselves. A wave of resolve, they swept silently away and towards Haru's fretting mother.

They were not the only ones. As they went, a chattering rose up at the far end of the garden.

Mr. Namataga had returned, and he was not alone.