Fire billowed crimson along the black line of the horizon, its heat so far away from where the chill soaked into their bones, where the night had already fallen over the frozen muddy shore. That darkness so distant swelled and grew over them, smothering, cradling in its grace these lost souls, these frightened voices clamouring harder and harder against the fragile mind, tearing and sobbing and screaming, and yet no answers would come. Why were they here? Who had brought them here, to this cold and unforgiving ground where the dirt colored a calloused heel with no rubber or fabric to hold it away.
They stood barefoot in the reeds, muddy water lapping at their toes with nibbling teeth of ice. Was it even water, anymore?... The teeth of that beast grew more and more ravenous, until they darted backwards, yanking their vulnerable extremities from the dragon that curled invisible in the dead weeds. Now they could see its eyes, cold black eyes that laughed at their fear.
They were here, and no one would say why.
Loose strands of blood-red hair darted in the chill breeze in front of eyes, now amethyst, now ruby, now blood, now emerald, now amber, and he looked inside to the assemblage that stood guilty in the blackness.
"Speak up," Battousai commanded, crossing his arms over his chest, tapping a booted foot against the insubstantial dark. "Speak up now. Who did this?"
Parched lips set into a thin line, then parted, a tiny giggle dancing through light and unfettered. The girl drew perfect tapered fingers through her satin black hair, eyes like crystalline blood sparkling. "What does it even matter? Were here, arent we? Theres no use in losing sleep over it."
Silence, the wind picking up enough to freeze the tears like diamonds onto their pale cheeks. Shinta faded, the filmy shapes that drifted behind her every step melting into blackness.
Hands clenched in the cold twilight, empty and aching, grasping the wind that hurtled headfirst away from the terror of bloodstained fingers reaching out for their next victim.
"Tears by neck by hand by throat," the cracked voice whispered, the hair tangled before crimson eyes so filthy to be colorless. "The water is red. The blood is red because the water is blue. The mouth is arching and screaming and playing with the sand castles."
"Own up!" Battousai snapped.
"Even the sun is crying."
"Were at the park."
"Shh." Long fingers curled in front of eyes squeezed shut. "Shhh. Dont be scared. Dont be scared."
"Were at the park."
Everything was all right. Everything was okay. They were at the park. Why? It was okay, you could feed the ducks if you wanted. The feathers are screaming with hate and fear and the water runs with the bulls in Spain and the rain is on the plane with the Pope. Everything was okay. Everything was okay.
Ducks, ducks, duckys duckys. Chi liked duckys.
Chi liked to play with the duckys. She threw the duckys bread and then they ate it and quacked. She wanted to pet the duckys but the duckys ran away and she couldnt catch them because Kenshin-nii-chans legs were too big and she fell down.
Chi was cold. I t was really cold. Chi wanted to go home where she could hug on Sanosuke-nii-chan and he would be warm. He was big and nice but he didnt know her because Kasumi-mama told her to pretend to be Kenshin-nii-chan so no one would know. She didnt know why Sanosuke-nii-chan didnt know because Kenshin-nii-chan was tall and besides she wore dresses.
Kenshin-nii-chan wouldnt wear dresses. She didnt like wearing pants. They itched her legs and felt funny. She wanted to go home anyway. It was dirty here and it was getting all over her shoes.
She reached out her hands and drew Chi back to her bosom. The poor child would catch a chill here... As they all would, but the baby was most susceptible. It was her duty to protect the girl, and she would make sure nothing ill would come...
Kasumi stroked a hand over Chis little forehead, soft emerald eyes closing in pain. Those two little girls... She had wanted to help them so badly, those poor children, and yet she had failed... She had failed to be there enough, to be a good enough mother, and now they were gone to goodness knows where...
So she cradled Chi now, poor innocent babe that clung to her and sighed in her slumber, and rocked on her heels on the icy mud beneath them. There was nothing to do now, nothing to do but cling on to her children that remained and hope to stave away the evil that was coming.
Sakuras arms went to cradle her ribs, lips pursing in a long sigh. It was too chilly for comfort out here, too much for her to deal with... Where was home, with its warm cotton sheets and even warmer bedmates...? There was no use for her here, not in the cold and the lonely night.
Not in the lonely night...
He was dimly aware of the tears frozen on his cheeks already, but the new flood scalded him, and stung his eyes. Himura Kenshin sobbed into his muddy and frostbitten hands, falling unashamed to his knees in the reeds that danced in the river. Where was he...? What had happened?
It wasnt an unfamiliar feeling, to open his eyes as if from a long sleep and find himself somewhere he was so sure he had never taken himself... He had woken once in an airport clutching a one-way ticket to Milan... He didnt even know where Milan once, let alone how he had gotten to the airport... But never like this- never like this-!
The only images that appeared in his memory were ones of the social worker situating himself in the chair Sano usually sat in, and he could remember being faintly annoyed at the liberties the man was taking with his precious furniture... But after that...? After that, only here, only the sun dying along the bay and the caked ground freezing his heels... his unshod heels... He was here, he was shoeless, he was hungry, he was cold and alone...
Where was Kaoru-dono, Misao-dono, Yahiko, Sano...? Why did they let him come alone, why hadnt they come for him?
The tears continued to come unbidden, soaking the torn collar of his shirt, dripping off his chin to spot the ground before his feet. He was afraid. He was lonely and afraid and he was alone again and he had no idea where he was... He never left the house, not alone, he was too scared that the darkness would come and he would return to himself somewhere so far away he would never make it back home. And he forgot so easily. There was never room anywhere in his mind for remembering what places looked like. He could get to school, but that wasnt very far away, and there were signs... at least he was rather sure there were. And he was afraid to walk around in case he got lost. But the sun was setting and it was getting dark... it was getting dark and then he wouldnt be able to see, he wouldnt be able to see the things that could get him in the dark- there was no one here, and he was all alone- he was so frightened...

*** *** ***

Blood ran freely over his knuckles, the marred tendons screaming with pain against the bones that had never fully reset. How many times he had broken his hands, he didnt know anymore- he didnt know if they were broken now, if that had been his wrist that had just snapped against the concrete wall. He didnt know, he couldnt know, he couldnt think. It was only the relentless pounding, faster and faster, ignoring the agony, ignoring the liquid standing in his eyes and falling in torrents down his back.
To be strong- it was neverending now, to be strong, to be strong enough to drag him home and keep him there- a man who had killed thousands, the same one who made his ham-and-cheese sandwiches- to be strong, to knock down this wall and run free-
He was only dimly aware that he had forgone his fists and was beating his forehead against the wall. Again. Again. Faster. To be strong. It had to be three in the morning now. Anthony hadnt come. He hadnt come for days, for weeks, for years, however long it had been , trapped in this little room with only his thoughts and his bloodstains for company, and he had eaten all the crackers and he was hungry, goddammit, hungry...
Kenshin... it hurt, it hurt still and now it hurt even more. The one he had trusted the most had left him behind, had left him behind to brave the world alone, and he couldnt let him go alone- how could he let him go alone? How could Kenshin leave him alone? Left him behind here, when they were the same, no matter what they were the same... The same, and yet... Kenshin calling him weak... it hurt ten thousand times more than any pain he could inflict on himself with just a wall...
A soft laugh echoed through the weight room, and Sanosuke sank to the matted floor, holding his forehead, barely aware of the wetness seeping through his fingertips. He couldnt leave Kenshin to take on the world alone, not when... not when they were so much the same.
He had to be so frightened, in the cold and the darkness, all alone... It pained him to even think of the redhead wandering a solitary path along a road somewhere... All the things that could happen, all the things he dreaded. All the things he wanted to protect him from, with his own two hands... And he would. He would find him, no matter where he was, and he would protect him, he would save him, no matter what... No matter what could happen.
And yet... it would be fine, it had to... Kenshin was strong, he really was... he must have been, so long ago. And he had seen it come back, he had seen it burst through... he had seen the assassin that Kenshin had been so long ago, he had seen the cold set of his lips, the golden stare, the superhuman quickness and delicacy that had guided his steps. Kenshin was strong. Kenshin had beaten Saitou before his eyes with nothing but a bucket, imagine what he could do with full resources... It would be fine. It would all be fine.
It had to be fine. Or he didnt know what hed do.
*** *** ***

"Theres a grief that cant be spoken..."
He was singing now. It was cold and his voice traveled, traveled on the frozen air, unfamiliar tones dancing on the wind that stirred from the reeds. He didnt know those words... he didnt know them, and he was dimly aware of a faint disgust being whispered along its melody...
"Cant be spoken..."
Wet, cold trails caressed his numb cheek, fingers touching him in the water, curling into his ear and soaking deep inside the fibers of his shirt. Coating him in the chill mud of the river, as he lay... the water pulling him down, cradling his flesh in a fond and freezing embrace... the red limbs bobbed in the eddies by the shore, red tempered with grey beneath his nails and white framing the parched lips, the wide staring eyes.
He floated, floated alone, and he was alone in the universe, the stars lancing down to pierce his eyes with unforgiving light, sweeping the wispy clouds away with the dewy swords of angels. They were the eyes of gods, of the dead, of the screaming children who lay soaked in gore at the feet of their slaughtered mothers, accusing and crying the drops of rain that fell into his lips, lacing it with the acid that burned his chest and stole his breath. The stars screamed their hatred down into his eyes, ripping loose shards of frozen flesh to leave it dancing in a morbid ballet along the eddies of the reeds.
More than he could say... the chill would lance in bullets through shattered and moaning nerves, the pain burning faster and more and more demanding, more than he could say, more than he could think, more than he could think or say or know, Sano, Sano, Tori, Sano, Tori, Kaoru-dono, Misao-dono, Sano, Sano... The faces flashed faster, cheeks liquid with fire and tears, Kaoru-dono, Misao-dono... Where was he, where were they...? Why couldnt he feel his arms? Why couldnt he feel anything, why did this seem so terribly serene, when he knew it was a horror, a horror of an insane and broken mind, lying in the freezing shallows of the water here by the bay or the river or whatever this water was, wherever he was, wherever he had flown to in his loss of consciousness... lying here in his clothes freezing to death, flesh turned a sick grey- where was he? Why couldnt he get up? Why wouldnt his legs turn, his arms tense, his body roll away from this torment here in the wet and cold?
"Cant... be spoken..."
Even his voice was dying now, shattering into pieces, dead, cold, whimpering like a kicked dog left to die on the side of the road, what was this? Where was he? What was he, why was he, how was he, when was he... who was he...?
Why...?

*** *** ***

Seven days.
He remembered that boast with only a grim smile now. Seven goddamned days.
Seven goddamn days, and it would be this morning... this morning would be the seventh day. He didnt know how he knew. Maybe Anthony had told him, in one of the times he stalked in the early morning darkness to drop off his measly meals. Maybe his internal clock had kicked in.
Seven days, and all he had to show for it was broken fingers.
The memory of Anthonys feat seemed so far away now... how could it be possible, to hit that fast, with the right interval, to do what he had done? It must have been an illusion, some kind of trick, something impossible, now here he was, left to die by his own contract while Kenshin wandered the world without so much as a fucking umbrella.
Sano leaned his head back against the concrete wall, slumping to the pile of mats with a hollow laugh, a laugh that became a groan when his forehead began to throb under the sticky wetness that plastered his temple. It wasnt that he was afraid to die...
Yahiko would have Meg to stay with. At least hed found the boy someone... someone who could look after him with some actual success. But God, he wished he knew where his girls were...
Kaoru had been taken by that man. Misao was in the orphanage.
Sano felt his aching eyes slide closed. That was when things had gone so wrong... the day the cops had raided Sagara-senseis orphanage, the day he had been taken aside by an almost-sympathetic prison guard and told that sensei was dead, sensei had been murdered, sensei was gone and he would never come back... gone forever because he had never told about the bags in the back closet. Hed never told anyone because he had been too scared, and then they all got arrested for drugs that werent theirs, and sensei...
"Sanosuke..."
The gentle voice wrapped around his senses, and Sano forced open his eyes, blinking dumbly into the dim light cast by the single bulb in the center of the ceiling. He could have sworn... but no, it was just his imagination.
"Sanosuke."
Sano gazed mutely into crystalline blue eyes that crinkled with a sad smile, impeccably cut raven hair framing a pale face made thin by too long spent on the diet a tutors money could buy.
"Sensei..." he mouthed weakly, trembling violently. Sagara Souzou stood there before him, draped in the soft raincoat he wore everywhere in the spring, white button-down shirt in perfect creases, khaki slacks trailing off into...
"Youve got no legs..." Sano whispered, then emitted a harsh sound that was almost a cackle, sickeningly amused. "Legs... Youve got no legs!"
"Sanosuke." Sanos attention snapped almost guiltily back to the apparitions face, and Sagara-sensei smiled wistfully down at him. "Youve done well, Sanosuke, you can stop now."
"Stop...?" He gaped for a moment, then took a deep shuddering breath, remembering all the times... Sanosuke, youve done well on the math, you can stop now... take a break, and well go on to the vocabulary..."Sensei, I havent- I havent even done it yet, I cant just stop-"
"Youve done your best." There was an almost imperceptible air of command to the spirits words, soft blue eyes hardening a bit as with an unruly child. "Youve done all you can, Sanosuke. If you stop now and beg mercy, the boy will not take your life."
Sano trembled, but his jaw set- his jaw set, and he found himself struggling to his feet, ignoring the shocks of agony that took his frame. "Sensei, I..." His eyes misted over, stinging with sweat and helpless tears. "Sensei, I miss you... I let you die, and I didnt say a word, I didnt do anything, I just let you go..." He caught his hand back before it stretched forward in childish yearning, unable to bear the sight of it passing right through. "And..." That set resolve assailed him.
"Sensei, theres a man... a wonderful man, who took me in just like you did. He took care of me, sensei, and... I got strong again, I was happy again, with him and his family..." His chin shook, and Sano clenched his jaw, but he was unable to restrain the thin falling line of tears down his bloody cheek, and so he cried silently as his own words shook him. "But hes in trouble now, hes in danger. I cant stop now, sensei. I cant-" He swallowed, and somehow, no matter the weakness in his limbs or the pain spreading throughout his body, Sano stood tall. Sagara Sanosuke stood proud and tall, and spoke the words that would be either his damnation or salvation.
"I lost you, sensei. I cant lose Kenshin too, and I wont. I wont let anyone else feel what I felt when you died, not the girls, not Yahiko, not Meg, not anybody. I wont let it happen."
Sagara Souzou smiled, the weak light of the bulb shining down through his figure. "Sanosuke... Im very proud of you."
Sano smiled, smiled so much he could feel his jaw complaining, and fell into a deep faint.

"Wonderful."
The morning light of the YMCA hallway poured into the tiny weight room, casting illumination on a crumpled figure in the midst of the wrestling mats. Sagara Sanosuke, his bloodstained face smoothed and innocent, peaceful... and dead, from all looks of it.
"I guess his heart just gave out..." Anthony surmised aloud, swiftly pulling the door shut behind him. He ignored the pang in his chest, didnt bother to distinguish it as remorse or simple mourning. He didnt bother with that, not when... this was business, that was all. The man had entered the agreement knowing there was a possibility of his death, and he had seemed to have no second thoughts. Death was his bodys own choice, and no fault of Anthonys... no fault at all...
The dark-haired boy knelt next to the body, the metal of the cross he wore slipping from the collar of his shirt as he leaned forward to inspect the body. Hed have to give him a decent burial, somehow... the man had been a human being, one of great resolve and heart... it was really a painful shame to see him dead like this, the life that had seemed so vigorous in him flown to the heavens...
"I would have liked to give you Last Rites," he informed the body, trying to force away his desperate regret. "You certainly deserved it."
"Hey, dont judge me yet."
The dry mutter from the white lips sent him backwards at least a yard in utter astonishment. Anthony watched speechlessly as the bruised and battered figure picked himself up from the fallen pile of mats, running one bloody hand through his tousled hair and fixing a bright grin on Anthony.
He cleared his throat, forcing the bewilderment from his face. "Its the last day," he said sharply. "Your time is out."
"Oh, that?" Sagara shrugged carelessly.
"You realize you die today, if you cant perform the technique." Anthony frowned. His lackadaisical attitude was both annoying and worrying. Could it be that this man cared for his life that little? It wasnt as though he couldnt identify, but...
Sagara uttered a noise that sounded suspiciously like pshaw, turned on one heel, and blasted the nearest punching bag clear off its chain and into the wall.
Anthony stared in disbelief.
"I figured it out this morning," the dark-haired man said casually. "Thanks, its really gonna do me a lot of good."
Somehow, he found himself smiling. "I commend you," he said quietly. "I didnt think you could do it, Sagara."
As the man passed him on his way out, a hand darted down and snatched Anthonys cross where it still hung over his collar. He tensed, but remained still, glaring deep into Sagaras face as quick dark eyes observed his ornamentation.
"Whats the date?" the man asked softly, not meeting his eyes.
"Its April third." Anthony studied his face, searching him.
"He died this morning, two o clock..." The dark eyes sparkled, and Sagara grinned at him, flipping the cross back to him. "Maybe I could believe in all that stuff, after all."
Anthony watched the man go, shaking his head slowly. Hed never believed it possible, to learn such a thing so quickly... there had been a fire in Sagaras soul to grow stronger, a fire that wouldnt let him rest. And to see him go today, it was as though he had walked through that fire and emerged new, cleansed...
"Whos that?" a soft voice inquired.
"Oh... a student," Anthony said casually, breaking his gaze and turning to Sydney. "We have a meeting today, right?"
"Mm-hm." The boy nodded swiftly, the ever-present smile not wavering. "Mr. Sherman has some sort of announcement... I think its rather important."

*** *** ***

"Battousai."
The rough voice stirred him, cruel fingers curling unforgiving into a grey-skinned arm. His eyes fluttered open, the blank stare emcompassing all and nothing. Amber lights assailed his darkness, then a strange smell... pine fresh air freshener...
Kenshin started, eyes shooting open, hands clenching on the towel that surrounded him. His startled gaze took in trees passing by a car window, a familiar-seeming street, something almost soothing...
His eyes flicked to the drivers seat of the small car, and strangely enough, the presence of Saitou Hajime there didnt frighten him.