-----

Kenshin watched as Gin backed into a doorway, blending effortlessly with the shadows. There was only a sliver of moon in the sky, perfect for what they had to do. It would be his pupil's first time killing, and he felt nervous energy course through him. What if she couldn't complete her assignment? What if she balked at the last moment? He shook his head. Now was not the time to doubt. If he'd had any it should have been before they left the inn an hour ago, not while they were waiting for their target to come to them.

The man was known to frequent the pleasure quarters. His name wasn't important, nor was what he'd done. He'd been marked, and it was their duty to bring him to justice. Kenshin repeated this in his mind as he waited, fighting down the voice that hovered just on the edge of his mind, the voice that told him his logic was faulty, that he was wrong. From his position on the roof he could see clearly everything that happened along the brightly lit street that served as the main causeway of Gion. Just beyond the gates that marked the area, there was darkness.

His head snapped up as he detected movement outside the Flower Drum Song house. Three men left and began walking out of the pleasure quarter. Their prey usually only had one other man with him, but tonight he'd added an accomplice. Jumping soundlessly from roof to roof he followed, noting that Gin began trailing them at a safe distance as well. By the time they were at the waterfront he was beginning to worry again. Gin should have struck by now, for the streets were empty this late at night. She had yet to motion to him though, to ask for his assistance. Two he was confident she could handle, but three? It was time to see if his year and a half of training had done any good.

"Takamura Oyashi, I will deliver Tenchuu."

Before the men could turn she was moving, cutting through them with ease. Kenshin fought the feeling of pride that came over him as he watched he flick her sword free of blood. There should be no pride in teaching someone to kill, no pride in taking a young girl and turning her into a killer. A girl too fragile and eager to please to know what she was really doing.

The hitokiri looked down to see his pupil still standing over the corpses, head cocked to the side as if pondering something. Silently, he jumped down. "What is it?"

She looked at him, then shook her head, using the flowing sleeve of Takamura's gi to wipe the blade of her katana before sheathing it. "Nothing," she pulled out the sheet of paper and placed it gently on the dead man's back, using his own short sword to hold it in place before turning and walking calmly down an alley.

Kenshin looked down at the corpses. All three had been clean kills, no sign of hesitation, no sign that she'd held back in any way. Turning, he followed her.

Katsura would be pleased.

----

Kenshin opened his eyes. He hadn't thought about that night in years. In fourteen years, three months, and seventeen days to be exact. The first time he'd let her loose to do as she will.

The first time he'd told her to kill.

It was perhaps one of the greatest ironies in his life, he thought as he walked into the yard and hefted a bucket of water from the well. He'd hated the people who told him to kill, no matter what he said to their faces. In the beginning, he'd felt that he was doing what was right, that he would be able to do more good as an assassin, taking down those important to the cause, rather than fighting the nameless masses. After a few months, months of almost endless killing and no visible change, he'd started to reassess that idea. After a year he'd asked to be reassigned, to be little more than a soldier, one of the many thousands who's worked for the Ishin Shi Shi, but had been denied. Their reasons had been sound to him at the time, now he wondered if it was his own burgeoning madness that made their reasons seem so right. He'd remained what he was, a soldier who had no face, no name, no life outside of the ending of others. There was always a lingering resentment for the people who had taken that optimistic young boy and turned him into a ruthless killer. Then, he'd turned around and did the same thing to someone else. The only difference was that he'd managed to escape from that life, Gin was still trapped in it.

No use thinking about the past, its the one thing you cant change, he thought to himself as he pulled on his clothes. He'd placed those thoughts behind him long ago, or so he'd thought. He opened the door to his room. The sun had yet to rise, but it was almost time, the east just showing the first faint blushes of light. He breathed in deeply. He'd always enjoyed the time just before dawn. Even on the battlefield, it was a time of quiet, of peace. The clouds glistened in the morning light, turning shades of purple and gold.

"You're up early."

Gin was sitting on the porch, leaning against one of the beams, a katana leaning against her shoulder. He blinked, and looked more closely. It couldn't be.

" Katsura found this on the battlefield the day you left," she said, staring towards the dawn. "No one else would pull it from the ground. The other soldiers believed it was cursed. He gave it to me before he sent me to Okubo. He never did discover what happened to your short sword."

Kenshin looked at his old katana. He knew every groove, every nick. It was the one Hiko had given him, after he trusted him enough not to cut off his own hands. It had been old, but well made, and loved even more. Even after Katsura gave him a proper daisho, he'd kept his own katana. In truth, he never thought to see it again. Prayed he'd never see it again. "I don't want it here," he whispered. "It carries too much blood for this place, too many memories."

She nodded. "This sword has served me for the past eleven years, Himura-san. I believe it has more blood from me than from you," she let her head drop. "Does it truly bother you so much?"

He looked down at his feet, then towards the sunrise. Did it bother him? If it did, why did he fell something like relief, just seeing it again? "I don't know."

She rose, her yukata swirling around her legs. "If it bothers you, I'll keep it in my room. You need never see it again."

"My thanks," he said to her back as she walked back to her room, wondering if that would be enough. He'd distanced himself from his past, both physically and mentally. When he walked away from the battle of Boshin he'd carried nothing but food and the clothes on his back. His spare clothes, supplies, everything was left in the tent he shared with Katsura. Kenshin watched as Gin disappeared in her room. He stood there a moment more, thinking about the person she'd become. The girl he'd known was gone, leaving a woman in her place, a woman that was familiar, yet still a stranger.

Gin emerged a few moments later, dressed in a serviceable pair of pants and long shirt. "Care to walk with me?"

Kenshin looked around. Kaoru wouldn't be up for another hour at least. So long as he watched the time, he could be back and make breakfast before she woke. "Hai."

The walk along the wall of the dojo was always peaceful. Very few people, if any, passed along the river, and even then not that early in the morning. The bustle of the city seemed far away, even though a few more blocks would have placed them in the center of Tokyo.

"You are a rich man, Himura-san, did you know that?"

Kenshin started. "Nani?"

Gin didn't pause in her stride. " When you left Katsura decided that he needed to repay you in some way. That was one of the reasons he attempted to find you. The money owed to you, for services performed over the course of six years, has been waiting for you in Kyoto. From what I was told, it is a considerable amount."

Kenshin blinked. He was wealthy? It was a word he never dreamed of attaching to himself. To survive was enough. "Why wasn't I told by Saito?"

"He doesn't know," Gin answered. "The only people who know about it still would be myself and Aritomo. I traveled with a small portion of it, and will give it to you today."

The rurouni felt his mind whirling. With the money he could at the very least begin helping Kaoru with the cost of providing for two people and a rampant free loader.

"You said you worked for the secret police," he said after a moment.

Gin nodded. "Saito decided that my skills would be most useful to the Meiji government if I resumed my previous duties. I was assigned to the ambassador because the government believed he needed someone who could be closer to him than a simple bodyguard, but I plan on returning to my duties upon my arrival in Kyoto."

Kenshin fought down a swell of pity. So it was as he feared. She may have taken up service as a body guard, but at her center she was still a hitokiri. " Why have you chosen to continue your life in this way, Gin-san?"

She watched a leaf as it was swirled away by the current of the river. " I am a hitokiri. I have no other skills."

The words rocked Kenshin to his core. They were the exact ones he'd given to Katsura years ago. " You have been many things in your life, Gin," he said, controlling his anger. "Death isn't the only path you can take."

"No, it is not," she turned and looked him full in the face. The coldness in her eyes startled him. "But it is the one best suited for me."

Sadness such as the rurouni had seldom felt washed over him. Gin was set on her path, and no matter what he said to her, it was long past the time when his words would have held any meaning for her. "The times have changed, Gin. We no longer need to further our aims through death."

Gin continued walking, leaving Kenshin behind as she started back towards the dojo. "Times change, Himura-san. People do not. I am at peace with the life fate has dealt me, and that is the most I can hope for."

Kenshin continued to stare into the river, unsure of what to do. Kaoru and the others were safe from Gin, that much he felt. She would not attack them without just cause. But her words had disturbed him. No one could be at peace with killing another unless the madness of death had already taken over them. He knew the signs well, had lived through them, and he saw no sign of them in her.

Then again, perhaps she simply learned to hide them.

Heavy-hearted, Kenshin began walking back to the dojo. The sun had just cleared the horizon, the glow fading from the clouds.

"Gin-chan!"

Gin looked up from the small flower arrangement she was working on. Sakura was waiting at the door. "Hai?"

"Okamisan wishes to speak with you," the older girl said, and Gin was at the door immediately. When Okamisan wished to speak with you, there was no delaying for any reason unless you wanted to feel the blunt side of her cane.

The two girls walked through the house, occasionally stopping to bow to the geisha's as they walked by. Both of them were maiko's, and even though she was younger than the other girl by almost four years, Gin was allowed to assist Arisa, the most expensive woman of the house.

They walked to the small study that Okami used to entertain visitors and found one of the servant girls standing there, holding a tray of sake. "Here," she whispered, handing the tray to Gin. "She wants you to serve."

The girl was puzzled, but accepted the tray. She gave her hair a pat to make sure it was flat before kneeling down and opening the door.

"Ah, there she is!" a male voice said as she swiveled into the room, picked up the tray, and closed the screen behind her. She approached the table, making sure to keep her eyes downcast as her mother had taught her.

"Yes, my little silver mine," Okami laughed as she set the tray down and began passing out the cups. There were two other men in the room, both of whom were watching her carefully. Artfully, she picked up the bottle. "Sake?"

One of the other men laughed heartily. "And her voice! Try telling us she's ten again, Okami!"

The man gestured to Okamisan, who in turn denied the sake. Gin began pouring sake into the guests' cups.

The madam laughed, and Gin could visualize the small smile on the woman's face. "Just turned ten, Tashiro-san. Hasn't even begun bleeding yet."

She felt a blush crawl up her face at that, but she continued to pour the sake as if nothing had been said, careful to make sure none of the liquid spilled. She settled back on her knees, waiting for the next command.

A hand lifted her face. "Come, let's see those eyes of yours."

She froze. No male had ever been allowed to touch her before, not even the boys who helped in the kitchen. Gin saw Okamisan nod from the corner of her eye, and looked at the man nearest her. He wasn't someone she recognized. He was heavyset, perhaps in his late thirties. He wore the outfit of a samurai, and she knew if she looked down she'd see a katana and short sword next to him.

"Exceptional," he said as his thumb brushed over her lips. She jerked back, her face flaming.

"And so shy, Nando," the other man, Tashiro, said. "Look at how she blushes!"

The man who had touched her, Nando laughed. "Yes, but this makes her exquisite," his hand reached out and lifted a lock of her hair.

Gin was close to panicking. In ten years she'd never felt so vulnerable. Normally she was kept away from any of the customers that frequented the Night Blossom. From her earliest memory she had been Okamisan's 'silver mine', and the woman had equal parts spoiled and tortured her. At four she was already learning to read and write, how to speak, how to move gracefully, how to dance and play the shamisen and flute. Now she could do any of those things without thinking about it, thanks to her teachers constantly drumming her lessons into her, and beating them into her when drumming seemed ineffective. She remembered an argument once between Okamisan and her mother concerning her training. The madam had begun her training at an unusually early age, and by the time she was eight she'd already progressed from being a tamago to a maiko. Okamisan had argued that she wouldn't waste any time, that the moment the girl was ready she was to be auctioned.

As the man played with her hair, lifting it and turning it so that it shone in the lantern light, she watched her mistress. It was Okamisan's pride and joy, her silver tresses. It tumbled down her back like silk, and almost brushed her knees. She might starve or be beaten to a pulp by her instructors, but so long as her hair was always clean and shining, Okamisan would find nothing wrong with her. She had to keep it down at all times, no matter what she was doing, so it wouldn't break off or thin out anywhere. The only time she was allowed to pull it out of her face was when she was practicing calligraphy, and that was only after a lock had fallen into the ink.

"One day she will surpass her mother," the old woman banged her cane on the floor. "Who knows, perhaps even her grandmother!"

The woman laughed. Gin knew of her grandmother. She had been mistress to the shogun himself in her youth, before age had taken away some of her charm. Rumor had it that when the old shogun died he had done so calling for her.

Without thinking she turned and refilled the cup Tashiro held out to her. Nando had yet to touch his drink.

"Now, how much do you want for her?"

Gin almost dropped the sake pot she was so startled. How much? She was being sold?

"Now, now, Nando, I told you. She's too young, hasn't even started that part of her training yet. Give me a few years, and then we'll talk."

"So you can sell her off to the highest bidder while I'm off on campaign? No thank you. How much?"

Gin folded her hands in her lap, head down, while inside she wanted to run away. This couldn't be happening. She was too young, had yet to learn about men and their ways yet. She still had years of training to go before she was presented. She might have been maiko, but there were several things she was still too young to understand. She stiffened when she felt Okamisan's assessing gaze on her, and her heart sank. The old bitch was actually considering it.

"100,000."

Nando laughed. "You cant be serious? Maybe if she were trained-"

"She'd be worth ten times that much then," Okami shot back.

"Fifty thousand."

"Ninety."

"Seventy-five thousand."

"Eighty, and that's as low as I'll go. I wont sell her at a loss."

Gin's mind whirled. She knew for a fact that the slavers sold girls prettier than her for less than ten thousand. Nando looked in her direction, and she could feel his gaze searing her. Please, no, she thought. She couldn't be taken from her home, her mother. That had to be why Okamisan had demanded such an outrageous price, knowing that no one would spend that much just to own another.

"Done," her heart sank. "It'll be six months before I can return for her. I'd like her trained as much as possible in that time."

Okamisan nodded. "I'll see to it personally. When can I expect payment?"

"When I return from Osaka," Nando added and stood. Gin stood as well, and saw the two men out. She waited a moment before standing and walking to her mistress. "Okami-sama…"

"What, girl?" the old woman sipped her tea calmly, not even looking at her.

"Please don't-"

Okami snorted. "It's already done. Unless he dies you're his now."

Gin collapsed, feeling real fear take over her. There must be something. She could feel her eyes filling with tears. She bowed low, forehead brushing the mat. "Okami-sama, please, what did I do? Tell me and I'll make it right, I swear!"

Okami looked at her coldly. "There's nothing to be done."

The tears overflowed, making twin trails down her face as she looked up. "Okamisan, you cant-"

The blow knocked her to the floor. Her mistress might be old, but fragile she wasn't, and her strikes often had her whole weight behind them. "I feed and clothe you, girl. There's nothing I cant do concerning you. Now, clean up this mess. Tomorrow you begin training with the older girls."

Slowly, Gin picked herself up. "Yes, Okami-sama," she whispered as she stacked the cups.

Gin opened her eyes. Years had passed since she last thought of that day, that moment. The moment the wheel of her destiny began to spin out of control. So much had happened since then, and she often wondered what her life would be like if Nando hadn't bought her, if so much had been different.

" You have been many things in your life, Gin, death isn't the only path you can take."

Kenshin's words had struck her like a blow. What else could she do? Return to the floating world and be a geisha? She'd sworn she would take her own life before she ever went back to being someone else's property, a pretty toy for a man to play with and chase after until he was no longer interested. Artistry? Her hand was steady enough, her characters perfect, but she had no real desire behind her training. What was left for her then? Marriage? Who would accept a women with no past? How could she explain herself to someone who would have no understanding of her life?

Other paths indeed.

She heard the gate behind the house open and close, and looked down from her perch in a tree to watch Kenshin walk into the kitchen. So, he cooked as well, she thought as the sounds of pots being moved drifted through the air. The morning had a bite to it, signaling that summer was finally ending. The day would be cooler than any since spring.

______________________________

Thank you so much for reading this!!!!!! Special carmel covered thanks goes out to Nola, Kitty Katana, and haku baiko for their wonderful reviews!!! Thanks so much guys, I'm glad you like reading my drivel J

Please, remember to leave a donation in the feedback box on your way out. My muse has to eat sometime you know! I take all suggestions and questions to heart, so if you have something to add, let me know! All reviews are placed on a shrine near my desk for moral support. Flames will be eaten with soy sauce and rum!

Oh, and Kitty Katana, romance will definitely be in the air in this story, though with who I don't know yet, but it will be coming eventually. Lemon too, if I can manage it ^_~

And one more thing, I've adjusted the timeline slightly, so Kenshin will be a hitokiri for about six months longer than he was in the series, so please don't attack me if the timeline doesn't exactly match up. Trust me, I needed to, you'll see why.

And finally, some definitions and cultural notes for those interested…

Maiko- a geisha in training, usually between the ages of 16 and 18.

Tamago- young girls who are not yet maiko. Usually used for cleaning staff and they observe their older 'sisters' (geisha and maiko)

Shamisen- the three traditional string instruments.

Okamisan- usual name for the madam of the house.

Geisha's were not prostitutes. The choice to give someone sexual services was entirely up to them, unless they were brought by that person from a house, in which case they became the man's property. Geisha's primary roles were as entertainment and conversationalists, more for company than anything else. What the true traditional life of the geisha was pre Bakumatsu is unknown, and what little we do know about them is based on what we're told by late nineteenth and early twentieth century women who lived the life. So, whose to say that Gin wasn't trained at such a young age? Considering that she was so unusual, and the fact that madams are shrewd business women, it seemed right to me that she would begin her training extremely early, so that by the time she came of age everything would be second nature.