Once, Yukishiro Enishi was a man to be respected. Not feared (not only feared), but truly respected – treated with honor and dignity, and recognized as the warrior he was. People who had never seen him before moved out of his way in the streets. People who had seen him before moved faster. He commanded respect in one of the largest cities in China. Yes, those had been the days …

Now, he killed bandits for a tiny flyspeck of a town and lived in a not-really-all-that-run-down shack in the woods outside of said town. In return, they gave him what things he needed that he could not get himself (blankets, lanterns, paper, and similar things), usually via parcels left on the steps, and avoided him as much as possible. Occasionally, a child would come to see if "Shriotora" really would bite his head off if he didn't wash behind his ears, but mostly they seemed to have gotten that out of their systems by now.

The irony never failed to make him want to smash his head into a wall. Or, preferably, to smash Battousai's head into a wall. Some things just don't change. Mostly, he had adjusted, though. Had given in to the fact that his hatred for Battousai was not his sister's wish. Had never been her wish. Never would be her wish.

But he hated him anyways.

Tomoe had smiled when Enishi told himself that he would not try to kill Battousai again, ever. Then she had left him.

She had left him. She was gone – as if she had never existed. That had happened after he finished reading her journal (to call it a diary seemed too girlish, too trivial a name to associate with the serene, mature woman Tomoe wa- …. had been), in Rakuminmura. After that, Enishi had gone mad – even by his standards.

There was no thought, no consciousness nor awareness of anything around him except in the most primitive sense imaginable. He had become, for all intents and purposes, a wild animal – not truly living, but existing day to day in a state of primal savagery. There was no concept of the passage of time – he slept when he was tired, woke when he was not – and procession of days and seasons were given only the most cursory attention, if any at all. All in all, Enishi's period as that mindless animal lasted about two months … but he didn't find that out until much later.

There was no grand revelation – no reason at all, really: one moment, there was no consciousness, nothing beyond the most brutal and primitive emotion, and the next moment, Yukishiro Enishi crouched, fully aware, underneath a tree somewhere, with the mangled corpse of a small, now-unidentifiable animal at his feet, his hands stained an accusatory crimson and the taste of copper and raw meat in his mouth.

Not one of the most pleasant ways to suddenly return to the realm of human thought. Nor, for that matter, one of the most psychologically enjoyable. But … when did anything ever come easy for him? Enishi had adapted, like he always had and always would - the difference being, before, he had chased the Battousai, and now, he chased bandits.

From one kind of scum to another … but at least it was something to do.

This particular pack had been more determined than most, and one of them had actually managed to score a hit on Enishi before he had killed them all – a long, shallow gash along his abdomen. It was nothing life-threatening, but it bled rather steadily, and Enishi wanted to get "home" where he could bandage it up relatively soon. He couldn't leave just yet, though – these bandits had attacked someone before he had gotten to them.

This wasn't all that of an uncommon occurrence, really, and Enishi knew what to do. 1) Take the victim to the shack 2) patch up any injuries they might have 2.a) if they're conscious and healthy enough, make them leave now, or 3) wait until they are conscious/healthy enough and then make them leave. It happened often enough, actually, that Enishi had gone to the trouble of getting a spare futon after the third severely injured "guest" had robbed him of the use of his for a few days.

He eyed the unconscious man critically (definitely a man – there was nothing feminine about him, despite the almost old-fashioned long hair), scanning for injuries and finding plenty. Besides the obvious cuts and slashes and the arrow rising prominently from the man's ribs, it looked like he had hit the ground hard, and that at least one of the bandits had taken a club to him – presumably in retribution for not having any money. Enishi squatted down on his heels to check for a pulse (no point in fixing up a dead man) and found one; fairly weak, but steady enough, considering the circumstances. He gave the man about a 50/50 chance of surviving – odds which would be quite optimistic to anyone looking at him.

Enishi picked him up – grunting as he did so, for the unknown man was certainly not very light, and dead weight besides – and, stooping to pick up the money purse that had been hidden underneath the other man's body (sometimes bandits were so stupid that Enishi was glad to rid the world of them), carried him off to the shack and somewhat more reasonable chances of survival. He was very careful, of course, not to aggravate the man's injuries too much – no point in carrying him all the way to his shack just to have the man die en route.

Okay, who forgot to upload the next chapter on time? 'Cause I sure did. Oh well. For those of you who are wondering if that means anything, yes, I have a bit of a backlog on this story . . . and I'm aiming for once a week updates, because I am not crazy anymore and am not going to try to do the daily crap anymore. Now, on to the review! (Note singular)

Kuroiyousei: Actually, I didn't mean for Katsu to come across as miserable that Sano was gone . . . miserable that he was traveling, yes, but not because Sano really was gone. For once, it's not a case of the character deluding himself . . . Katsu misses Sano, but he's not miserable now that he's gone . . . just lonely. And that's to be fixed soon, we know. :D