*** *** ***
This isn't food,
Misao complained
aloud, prodding the
lump that was
supposed to be an
eggroll with a
disgusted shiver. It
squished under her
finger, but held firm
when she shifted that
poking to somewhere
else.
Then don't eat it,
stupid. Kaoru was
nibbling delicately
at her sandwich,
watching her from
across the table with
a smug glint in her
sparkling blue
eyes. 'Tou-san would pack you a lunch too, if you asked. He's quite happy
to.
Yeah, yeah... don't want him t' girly-up my food. Misao took a deep
breath and gnawed at the edge of the lump of psuedo-Chinese food. With the

pretty little napkins an' crap. She glared at her older sister, still
chewing determinedly at the rubbery substance the cafeteria passed off as
food. You don't eat that neatly. Give it up.
I- I do too! Kaoru protested, outraged, a flush rising to her cheeks.
'Nee-chan, you're the one who managed to get barbecue sauce in your ear
somehow, Misao reminded with a mean little grin. Remember? That was back
when-
Oh, shut up! Kaoru was crimson with embarrassment. Misao giggled and
returned to contemplating her eggroll.
Excuse me...
The light voice startled both the girls, and Misao blinked up at the
newcomer. A boy stood beside her, smiling brightly, holding a can with a few

dollars peeking out of the top. he said cheerily. I'm collecting for
the Key Club fundraiser... Could you spare some change, if you have any,
please?
Hi, Sydney, Kaoru said politely, as Misao blinked up at the dark-haired
boy with eggroll still hanging out of her mouth. What's this fundraiser
for? I didn't hear anything about it at the Honor Society meeting, so it's
not another of those joint things..
Oh, no, he said disarmingly. Just a fundraiser. To supplement our funds,
correct? Running those recycling drives requires a strangely large amount of

funds, more than one would suspect... Sydney cocked his head and held out
the construction paper-covered can with a sunny smile.
Misao dug out a crinkled dollar and dropped it in the can, grumbling around
her food. Kaoru did the same, but with considerably less malice, being the
more altruistic of the two.
Thank you! he said brightly, then was gone, disappearing with almost
inhuman speed amongst the milling crowd.
Misao was silent for a few minutes, then nodded after him, still chewing
aggravatedly at the same bite. 'O's that? she mumbled around the eggroll.
That was Sydney. Kaoru shrugged. He works with the Key Club. He's pretty
nice, I guess...
He's creepy, Misao said pointedly, waving her fork. Nobody, and I mean
nobody, smiles that much...
Well, I suppose...
The conversation soon enough turned to other things, but the image of that
bright smile nagged at Misao, burned into her thoughts... her mind... it was

creepy. Too damn creepy. And the thought just wouldn't go away...
Who could smile all the time...?

Sano- Sano! Sano!
Sano froze, then spun off to the side of the hallway, ducking out of the
stream of traffic to lean on the brick wall. The students were like a
stampeding cattle drive, at the end of the day... and he had to admit, he
was usually right there with them. School wasn't exactly his favorite place
in the world to be, and the less time spent there the better, or at least
that had always been his opinion.
But Kenshin's husky soprano held a note of urgency, and he knew full well
it wouldn't be the greatest of ideas to make him chase Sano out the building

to catch his attention. He might appear small and harmless, but that little
redhead had a way of making Sano feel guilty... just with a quirk of one
eyebrow, a certain considering look... And Sano would willingly go on his
knees to beg forgiveness.
He leaned down to closer catch what his lover was saying, and Kenshin
scowled cutely, pushing up on his toes. The height difference between them
was a source of endless frustration for the older man.
Sano- I have somewhere to go after school today, and I don't know how long
I'll be de gozaru. So, could you make sure everyone eats, and... He paused,

then prodded Sano's shoulder lightly, smiling a little bashfully. Don't
neglect yourself in the process de gozaru. You eat too.
Sano cocked his head, inching a little closer to him across the
dirty tile floor. Where're ya goin'?
I- I'm going to visit someone- Kenshin paused, as though not sure what to
say, then sighed. A friend... an old friend de gozaru na.
Sano said affably. I'll handle everything at home, naa? Don't
worry about it.
For only an instant, a peculiar light flashed through Kenshin's amethyst
eyes, but it was gone before Sano had a chance to try at deciphering it.
Arigatou gozaimasu, he said with a grateful smile. I'll see you later
tonight de gozaru.
Sano watched Kenshin push off through the crowd with a distant smile on his
lips, then turned again to go.

*** *** ***

Kenshin turned the ignition off, then sat unmoving in his car as the engine
died, finally settling to silence with an unsettling clunk. He considered
his fingers where they clenched into the steering wheel, knuckles white and
strained, as though he were observing an occurrence far removed from
himself. It just didn't seem to matter.
Nothing mattered, really...
He shook himself from that disturbing thought, then sighed heavily,
untangling his shaking hands from the wheel and unbuckling mechanically from

the driver's seat. In an effort to distract himself from the depression that

weighed ominously on him, Kenshin found his mind drifting to earlier that
morning... Saitou... how he had seen his world crumble to pieces before him,

and having nowhere else to turn... had fled to Sano...
It was a peculiar thing. In the past, his confrontations with Saitou had
numbered more than he had ever cared to count, and though most of those were

not memories he could access, he knew the other man's skills and strengths.
He'd never been able to escape him then, but... but he had thought he would
be safe here... But nonetheless, he knew how powerful Saitou was. Sano
himself was astonishingly strong for his age, and showed evidence of having
trained to develop that strength in more ways than lifting weights, but even

so... He was no match for Saitou. He was only a child, after all... Things
may have been different, had he been older...
Of course, the entire situation would have been significantly less of a
problem were Sano older.
But no matter how young and inexperienced Sano was, Kenshin had found...
some measure of safety, in his embrace, in his soothing whispers and gentle
touch. It made no real sense. But Sano... Sano made him feel secure,
somehow...
Though they were both in more danger now than he most likely had the
ability to comprehend. And he was at a complete and total loss for what to
do, where to go next, what to think... And that, in the purest essence, was
why he was here, at this place, for the first time in so long... To find
some idea of what to do. What he should do. What the right thing to do was.
But it was doing him no good to just sit in the car, so Kenshin firmed his
courage and threw the door open. If he went in with confidence, all would be

fine. It would all be fine. He just had to get a handle on himself...
He shut the door, checked the lock, then shivered convulsively in the
breeze. It was getting cooler... October was reaching its end, and November
beginning... the winter taking a stronger hold on the dying autumn and
beginning to choke away its last breaths. He pulled his jacket more tightly
around him and started for the large buildings that made up the community
college.
Only the beginning of November... he had started his new job only two
months ago? He had come in three weeks or so later than the school year had
begun, so... only two months. That had to be right, then. No matter how
strange it seemed.
Only two months.
It hadn't taken him long to foul up this new venture, had it... two months.
He'd met Sano three weeks or so into his career at the high school, and four

weeks since then... it hadn't quite been two months, then. Seven weeks. He
had been fine for those first three... then Sano... and then, last night...
It only took you seven weeks to be sleeping with a student de gozaru ka?
Kenshin hissed under his breath, voice bitter and self-loathing... but not
repentant. Never had he been repentant... Ashamed of himself, yes, but never

had he been able to feel sorry, truly sorry... No matter how wrong it was,
some voice inside him still whispered of that falsehood, that it was right,
it was right and all the others were wrong...
It all came down to which voice was right, in this matter. And that was
something he couldn't decide on his own, being too involved in the matter.
He needed someone more removed... but one whose counsel he trusted.
Which had brought him here.
Kenshin blinked helplessly for a moment at the large cluster of buildings,
stepping onto the pavement that seemed to serve as a welcome area, with a
bench that formed half a rectangle, bent around three ninety degree
angles... it was a unique design, and Kenshin pondered that for a few
moments before resuming his search.
He jogged down flight of stairs, shivering violently within his thin coat.
He'd always caught cold easily, especially when it was windy like this.
Luckily, whatever powers there were smiled upon him, and a keenly searching
eye caught the word on the labeling plate of one building not
far from him. He made a beeline for the doorway, caring for nothing but
getting somewhere it was warm at the moment. His apprehensions about this
visit could wait for later. When he could feel his fingers.
Kenshin pushed the door open and burst inside the smaller building,
breathing heavily and shivering so hard his muscles ached. The lobby was
largely deserted, which he was grateful for. Classes should have ended about

half an hour before he even had entered the parking lot, and he'd driven
about aimlessly in the upper lot for five minutes before looking for a
space.
Once the feeling had returned to his hands, Kenshin swallowed, and set off
down the hallway. The Psych building was set up the exact same way it had
been when he'd gone here, eight years ago... Things were just newer and
brighter. The heating system appeared to work much more efficiently, as
well.
He followed the hallways, paying no attention to the wood-paneled walls,
clutching his jacket together before his thin chest with both hands. He had
difficulty with the zipper sometimes, and snapping it was too much work.
Besides, half the zipper teeth and snaps were long missing, and he had no
hope for them to ever return... He was murder on jackets. And gloves. And
shoes. And unfortunately, his daughters seemed to have learned that bad
habit from him... and so he was constantly having to buy new things for both

himself and the girls.
Kenshin heaved a heavy sigh, standing before the door he'd sought. He had
arrived there sometime in the track of his thoughts, and had halted by
habit. It didn't seem that imposing, just at first glance, yet his heart was

pounding, palms cold... because he knew, unlike one who would be a first
visitor, the true nature of the man who occupied this room... A man who was
no ordinary teacher, who failed students with the same regularity as others
passed them. A beginning psych student dreaded the day he saw this name as
his instructor on his new semester schedule, because so few had ever passed
one of his classes...
Kenshin, eight years ago, had been one of those few.
Not the first try, of course. He'd failed along with the rest of his class
the first time he'd taken the class. But unlike the rest of them, who had
opted for an easier level, or pleaded for a different teacher, he had
entered the class again. He'd come for tutoring, and suffered through
that... unique experience. He'd studied for five hours every night. He'd
done every assignment, and then had done every exercise in the book that
wasn't assigned. And when the time had come for the final exam, he'd spent
the weekend before both studying and demanding extra help from the professor

every chance he had gotten. And that day... though he'd not slept for the
three nights before, and only eaten when he could do so and study at the
same time... he had passed. He had passed with ninety percent, which even
though fell quite short of perfection, was about seventy percent better than

the rest of the class. He had been the only passing grade.
And no other class he had taken had ever compared. He'd learned everything
from this one professor... the best teacher he had ever known.
And during those late-night tutoring sessions, and the Saturdays and
Sundays he'd appeared in that classroom with textbook and notebook in tow,
refusing to leave until he got his questions answered, he'd learned so much
about both psychology and himself... He'd found himself thinking of this man

as his Shishou, his master... And it was indeed that kind of relationship
they had developed.
The title had slipped by his lips one of those days, and he'd expected
either a lack of comprehension or a simple silence, and yet... Those sharp
dark blue eyes had focused on him, and after a long pause, he had responded
with a long-suffering, Will you never understand this simple concept,
bakadeshi?
And from that day on, they had been master and apprentice, shishou and
deshi... The only authority figure Kenshin had ever been comfortable
challenging. And the one from whom he had learned everything he needed to
live on in this strange place, who had helped him with his English in spare
moments, how to act here, how to be a regular person...
And he'd been fine with that instruction for so long, seven years... It was
only now that he'd hit an entanglement so large that he couldn't move on
with only the knowledge he had. So he had returned here, in the hope...
Kenshin took a deep breath, then opened the door.
And walked straight into an argument not unlike one he'd seen almost every
day, back when he'd attended class here.
For the last time, I will not tutor someone who sleeps through my class
every day. And I will not give you extra assignments when you don't do the
ones I give you. That is the final ruling. Get out of my classroom.
the hapless student began.

Kenshin blinked in surprise from where he stood in the door, then stepped
aside obediently as the grumbling teenager shoved by him. He watched after
him for a few moments, then shook his head and sighed. These children...
they just didn't understand that they had to work for what they wanted.
Things weren't as simple here, in college... And even though it wasn't
exactly Ivy-League, college was college. And no one who stepped inside this
classroom could hope to coast through, no matter their comprehension of the
human brain and mechanics of emotion. It simply was a very, very hard class.
Kenshin breathed deeply, then crossed the threshold. There was no reaction
from the man who sat at the desk, and he had truly not expected one. So he
moved forward a little and bowed.

Fail... Fail... Fail...
Kenshin blinked.
Fail... Fail even worse... Fail... Pathetic... Worse...

Fail... Wastebasket... Fail...
Kenshin scowled, then crossed in front of the desks before him
and stood directly in front of the large table.
More papers were tossed to one side, each with a large zero in red ink
etched at the top. Shishou had always graded by percent, so he could
differentiate every paper by specific rank. Of course, that crimson oval was

the most common.

Finally, his head lifted, and one hand brushed long brown hair from his
face so he could glare at Kenshin correctly. Kenshin blinked, but held his
position.
What do you want, bakadeshi? Why can't I get rid of you?
Kenshin blinked at him silently. His shishou scowled deeply, then sighed
and motioned to a desk.
If you're going to take up my time, you may as well sit down and tell me
why you're here again. I'm going to hear it eventually, knowing you, so the
faster I get it over with the better.
At that, Kenshin found himself smiling. If his shishou didn't want him to
stay, he would have ordered him out as quickly as that poor slacker of
before. He would never say it aloud, but they both held a certain amount of
affection for the other. So he sat in the offered desk, and pondered exactly

how to phrase his problem.
There was a creak of a drawer, and the professor pulled a jug from behind
the desk and set it on the desk. Following was a small dish, resembling a
chawan of old. Kenshin blinked at him wordlessly, and Shishou motioned to
the jug.

Kenshin sighed. His shishou was American, but had an
obsession with sake as opposed to any plain alcohol. He also understood
enough Nihongo to have known what shishou' meant, and what a characteristic

response for him would be. Kenshin had spent some time speculating on where
this knowledge had come from, knowing that those phrases were not commonly
taught in language courses, but had come to the suspicion that he was one of

those Americans with a fondness for Japanese anime, which was well supported

by his familiarity with Chinese mythology and his suspicion of student
councils. Of course, the man would never admit to such a fancy.
So what do you want, bakadeshi?
Kenshin blinked, startled out of his ponderings, then fidgeted. He had an
idea of how Shishou would react to this, but still... he had to hear it
aloud...
I... I took the job of a guidance counselor at a public high school a few
months ago. I-
You what? Dark blue eyes focused on him at least, deeper voice aggrieved,
and Kenshin winced. You know that is no position for you, bakadeshi. Any
teenager who wants to be helped at all will go to an actual psychotherapist
with a practice, not to a school employee. The only ones you'll see are the
ones who think they can get out of a particularly abhorrent class by taking
advantage of your submissive nature. That type of job should go to someone
with only a basic understanding of psychology so the more qualified can take

jobs that actually help people. Not that you should be a therapist at all,
bakadeshi.
Kenshin was silent, then nodded quietly. I... I know...
His shishou sighed, then waved a hand. I can yell at you later. You know
all the reasons you shouldn't be a therapist... taking others problems on
yourself and so on. I don't need to tell you that again, do I? Besides, I
can tell that isn't your real problem.
Kenshin nodded. He knew he shouldn't be a therapist, as shishou had said...
He obsessed on other's problems, and had spent a few nights awake worrying
over a trial case, where the client had no deeper problems than having
repressed the exact details of a car accident in which they had been
injured, which in reality was a quite common occurrence and signified
nothing more important than the brain acting as it was supposed to at times
of pain. Beyond that, as the older man had mentioned, he was too submissive
at times... and were he to face a client that wanted to take advantage of
him in some sense, it in reality wouldn't be quite hard for them to do just
that...
But that wasn't the problem, as he had said.
Kenshin sighed and looked down at the desk, hesitant to speak of this
shaming entanglement, but knowing that he had to, now... I had been working

there for three weeks, that I had, and I met this boy...
There was more than a little sly understanding in his shishou's
voice, and Kenshin squirmed.
H-Hai... only, he was a student, Shishou. He's nineteen... a senior at the
school, and two years older than my oldest...
You have children? That had surprised him, evidentially, and Kenshin
smiled a little.
Two adopted daughters, Shishou. Kaoru-dono is seventeen and Misao-dono
sixteen. It felt strange, to use the -dono suffix while still speaking in
English, but it was silly to attempt a translation when he knew Shishou
understood little things like that.
Oh. Adopted. I was wondering. Kenshin sighed, embarrassed. Shishou had
known, somehow, that he was homosexual, probably before Kenshin had known
that what he was feeling wasn't some sort of psychological disorder. It
hadn't bothered him in the slightest, either, which had baffled Kenshin to
no end for a few months until he had learned to take Shishou in stride.
Hai, hai... but anyway, I... He told me, when I saw him that night- there
was a dinner at the elementary school, and he was there with his brother-
anyway, he told me that he he had just been evicted from his apartment,
indeed he had, and had nowhere to stay...
So you invited him to stay with you.
Kenshin blinked up at his shishou in surprise. The professor
shrugged.
Seemed like you, bakadeshi. So, let me guess... he stayed with you, and
the two of you fell madly in love, but you still can't get past the problem
of student-teacher ethics and his age, feeling you're tying him down before
his time, while he doesn't see a problem with your relationship and is
constantly hurt by your rebuffs. And you're here to get my opinion on what
you should do.
Kenshin blinked at him, and seeing no other option, blushed and nodded. It
seemed so simple, to be summarized in one sentence like that... but...
His shishou leaned back in his chair, eyes still boring deep into
Kenshin. What do you want, bakadeshi?
What do I want? Kenshin stared back at him, still unable to comprehend
how his shishou had seen through him so easily.
What do you want, yourself? Do you really love him? Or is it just a
passing thing? Shishou appeared to be considering him, drinking his sake
quite leisurely.
I wouldn't jeopardize my livelihood and his future if I didn't truly love
him, indeed I wouldn't, Kenshin shot back, a little injured that Shishou
thought so little of his self-control. If it were only lust, I-
Have you slept with him yet? the older man interrupted again.
Kenshin turned bright red and choked. His shishou waited patiently.


Kenshin scowled and looked at the desk, then nodded a minuscule bit, biting
his lower lip in an attempt not to combust from pure embarrassment. He
certainly didn't beat around the bush...
The tone to the professor's soft humming of consideration was not
one that inspired much trust, and Kenshin waited for his next question with
nothing less than dread.
Top or bottom?

It's generally a good indicator of your position in the relationship and
the dynamics between you, the dark-haired man pointed out casually. A
psychological thing, which is, of course, my specialty.
Kenshin scowled at him, knowing his face was as crimson as his hair. His
shishou waited patiently.
he gritted out, cheeks flaming.
Of course. The professor turned about in his chair, swirling in a lazy
spiral for a few moments before halting, apparently coming to some sort of
decision. Kenshin blinked, feeling his heart fall to his stomach, waiting
with mixed dread and hope. Either way his mentor answered, part of him would

be validated and the other cast to dust... It all fell to which, now.
Whether his heart would sing with elation, or his sense retake a smug air of

superiority.
How much do you love him? Shishou asked simply.
Kenshin blinked dumbly. His lips moved, but no sound came forth.
More exactly, do you love him enough to lose your job and risk your
livelihood for him? Or would you rather forsake whatever feelings you have
for him to live on as you have?
Breathing hurt, and Kenshin stared blindly into those dark
blue eyes, hands clenching unaware into the desktop. I... I...
Would you be able to live with yourself waking every morning without him
beside you, knowing you sacrificed both your feelings and his to maintain a
wage? the dark-haired man continued pitilessly. Would you rather please
the people around you who care nothing for you, or do something to make
yourself happy?
That's not fair, Shishou, Kenshin whispered brokenly, hands beginning to
ache. I have to take care of my children... how could I do that if I were
to lose my job? How could I-
You get another job. How hard is that? Intense eyes bored into him.
But- He- He's so young, Shishou, he-
Is he a child? Or can he make his own decisions?
He- Of course he can make his own decisions! I would never-
Then let him. He's made his decision. You have to make your own.
Kenshin was silent, chin shaking, knuckles white where his fingers dug into
the unyielding plastic of the desk. It... What could he say? Shishou refused

to understand... just as Sano had refused to understand... why wouldn't they

just admit-
Why don't you understand how wrong this is?! he burst out, feeling his
eyes sting, rising unwittingly to one knee, braced in the seat and leaned
over the desk.
Why is it wrong? His shishou's voice overrode his own, even though his
soprano had risen to the most strident and pained he could ever remember it
being. Because you think so? Or because you think everyone else will think
so?
Kenshin froze, those words singing to the back of his mind as they floated
in his memory... Sano had said those same words...
You're the one who is refusing to understand. Shishou focused his gaze
unwaveringly on his student, who shook like a leaf in the winter gale in the

desk. This isn't a matter anyone else has any place interfering in. They
will interfere, and you can count on that. But this matter is between you
and that young man.
Kenshin said faintly.
Between you and Sanosuke, he amended. No other opinions matter. That is
the one thing you've yet to learn. You've never understood the value of your

own life.
Kenshin quavered, but firmed his jaw and met the older man's
gaze.
Understand that you are worth no less than all those around you, he
continued, voice as serious as Kenshin had ever heard it, pushing back from
his desk to pace about the front of his room. If you have learned anything
from this experience, it is that it is possible for another to love you. You

are worthy of another's affection, even if you don't believe it yourself.
And besides that... it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of you. Know
that you have value in yourself, and for once, do what you want. Take some
steps to make yourself happy. Because no one will do it if you don't try
first.
Kenshin listened silently, the tears that ached at his eyes steadily
growing to be of an entirely different nature.
Make yourself happy. And give yourself the chance to be who you truly are
inside. Because then, you'll be someone worth knowing, Kenshin. And perhaps
then, you'll want to know yourself.
Kenshin gasped softly. Shishou had never used his name before... the only
method of address he had ever used towards him before was bakadeshi'. And
those words... the tears that had lingered in his eyes spilled over, and he
extracted himself from the desk, launching forward across the dusty tile to
latch onto the taller man's arm.
he sniffled.
With an embarrassed grunt, the professor shook him off. How many times do
I have to tell you, bakadeshi-
Kenshin found it somewhere within himself to laugh, and shook with mirth
for a few moments before subsiding. The dark-haired professor sighed and
retreated to his desk.
Go home, bakadeshi, he ordered. Work things out. Maybe I'll be willing
to speak with you when you make an actual man of yourself.
Kenshin headed for the door, catching up his jacket, unable to wipe a
brilliant smile from his lips. Shishou... you know that will never happen,
indeed it won't, he returned, then bowed once more to the man who'd done so

much for him and exited. There was no need for thanks, and no need for
goodbyes. It simply was not how they did things.
As he closed the door behind him, Kenshin's keen ear caught the sound of
muttering, and he leaned close to the crack to better discern the words.
That damned fruitcake'll be the death of me...
Kenshin smiled, stifled a giggle, then headed down the hallway.

*** *** ***