Ciao!!!

I swear I don't know where they come from! They just about go and write themselves!

Yasai: *sitting on the edge of Chibi's desk panting and looking thoroughly exhausted before dropping off the desk and landing in a heap on the floor*

I mean, I'm sitting there at school with nothing to do... and well, I just start scribbling (and the teachers think I'm actually busy! YAY!)... at least until they catch onto me doing nothing and demand to see my notes… now, I never write notes, it's just too much of a hassle to write down something you remember… so I had to stop writing at school *sniff* but I can still write at home (after everything's done there's plenty of time at the moment since I don't have to give lectures/do projects/prepare exposés…)… well, so I just sit down at my darling Laptop (called Jerry, don't ask me why) and type something up…

Yasai: *pathetic whimper*

And it ends up another whole chapter of RtK!

Yasai: *Half-dead image of pitiful little muse whimpering to get her happy author's attention*

So enjoy reading!

Yasai: *unconscious*

"…." Denotes talking

….. denotes thinking

*~* means a change of scenery (either temporal or local, I think which one of those will be clear) has taken place

Disclaimer: I do in no way own any rights, moral or others, to Rurouni Kenshin, it's characters or plot. Characters other than the characters from Rurouni Kenshin bearing any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely coincidental. I do not intend to make any profits out of this story, it's written for entertainment purposes only and any attempt by persons natural or legal to make money from it in any way is not in accordance with this author's express wishes.

Chapter 5

Scoundrel

The baths- the only place the hunt for Battousai had spared as of yet. To the King, this was an impossible oversight on the part of his men. To the soldiers, it was simply unimaginable that someone as clever as the elusive demon would hide himself in a steaming bathtub of all places, especially since they all had used the facilities early this morning. King Kamiya, as usual, was not to be deterred; if nobody wanted to check the baths then he would do it personally. He had been awoken rather abruptly this morning and consequently was a little short-fused on his temper, thus the argument between him and the men had arisen.

Storming into the secluded bathing area with its five big tubs full of steaming hot spring water King Kamiya was in now way prepared for what awaited him. At best, the baths could have been deserted. At worst, there would have been a few soldiers jesting and jeering about their women as they soaked in the water. However, the poor King's logic was proven faulty when he barged in.

There was, once again, that Adauchi Akai, leaning back against the edge of the tub, the muscles of his arms, though covered by skin varying from green to violet to white in color rippling as he sank deeper into the liquid, his long red hair splayed out on the floor behind him like a burning peacock's tail going out in a blaze of glory, the eyes closed, face relaxed... he looked every part like a painter's model posing for the perfect picture of sweet serenity. He didn't seem to even care about the commotion the King had caused- and the King couldn't help but blush when he saw him, hidden from view by the wafts of white vapor rising up from the tub, completely at ease with the world. King Kamiya had seen men bathing before- but they had always had that brute, savage touch to them, not the gentle feeling of peace that donzel exuded. How could she ever have mistaken that one for the Battousai? He was... angelic. For some reason or the other, the king felt as though this was the first time he laid eyes on a man bathing.

"Umm... sorry," he murmured, blushing an even deeper shade of red- fortunately, the flush of color in his cheeks could be accredited to the heat in the baths. Almost lazily, the donzel's head turned, eyes still closed, his cheeks shadowed by lashes dripping with condensed vapor, clinging to the skin underneath. A drop of water- or sweat, the King thought, desperately trying to tear his eyes away from the offending little liquid oval- rolled down his neck to join its companions in the water. Slowly, his head was lifted up to be able to look into the eyes of the King.

King Kamiya felt electricity course through him when the donzel's gaze met his. Akai's eyes were so light a violet in color they almost seemed... tinged golden with the flickering mix of daylight and torches burning in their holders on the walls. Could he be...? Even though he had just...? No, it just couldn't be. A fleeting image of a shadowed path in the woods flitted across the King's thoughts, but when he turned back to reality there were only the deep, delft blue eyes of Adauchi Akai staring at him from down where he sat in the furo. Pools of delft blue that were slightly widened as he recognized the King, contrasting sharply with the- red that rose up in his face? No, that wasn't possible, the donzel wouldn't blush, he was too impassive for that... but then, his liege had walked in on him in the bath- and had even apologized for it!

"No offence taken, Kamiya-sama," Akai stuttered, his face rivaling a ripe tomato in hue. He was struggling to keep his dignity intact while at the same time showing his proper respect to his King... or perhaps not, since he made no move to get up. The King snorted.

"Well, it seems the Battousai isn't hiding in here... if Akai hasn't hidden him under his body. We can as well leave!" The way he spoke didn't leave any doubt as to the nature of that suggestion, and the soldiers consequently took it as the order it was meant to be. Throwing one last look at the now-tensed man- nobody could mistake Adauchi Akai for a mere boy when he wasn't clothed- the King stomped out of the baths behind them, muttering one last sentence about 'insolent donzels and their antics' before quiet once again prevailed.

Battousai slid so deep into the water that only his face from the tip of his nose upward remained visible. He shivered in the hot water, his eyes turning a glowing amber tinged with hints of the deep blue hue they sported when he was calm in reaction to the images of a very flushed and very flustered young woman named Kamiya, who had looked quite sweet when she... wait a minute, he had wanted to make the King fall in love with him, not fall for her himself! Mentally slapping himself he decided he'd had about enough from bathing, his aches had somehow miraculously dimmed in comparison to the images his mind conjured up whenever he thought of himself, a bath and the 'King' in one sentence.

You truly are the idiot he makes you out to be if you continue on this path, he reminded himself while toweling off with one of the rough stripes of torn linen, hastily washed and dried, that served as adequate towels since the amount of laundry from so many people was too staggeringly high to allow for anything else.

He was clad in a clean dark green, black-rimmed shirt whose Chinese collar was slightly wettened by his long hair that, even though he had tried to be careful, had become so wet he had decided to wash it anyways. Currently, it was a curtain of damp auburn strands curling around his shoulder blades and down his spine, leaving a tingling of dripping wetness in its wake. His simple, black gi pants were just slightly too long for him since the standard sizes the castle issued simply didn't fit him, and just slightly too wide in the waist so he had to tightly bind them with a piece of dark green cloth he had ripped from one of the countless clotheslines in the laundry courtyard. At least the boots fit- and since when had he given so much thoughts to how his outfit looked? Scowling, he slung the useful dark green cloak around his shoulders, pulling up the hood to hide eyes that were a swirling mix of stark cobalt blue and warm, sunny gold- they would have been too much of a dead giveaway.

Frowning, he stood in the corridor in front of the baths, his toes curling uncomfortably against the wood of his sandals when he thought of his duties this morning. He had to watch Hiruma Gohei's quarters again. I think I'm beginning to understand why he took to drinking saké... its times like this when you start wishing you were real drunk he thought wistfully as his brisk, measured steps carried him through the dim hallways of Dunkelland Castle. A hunting party to escape from, a homicidal King to romance, and a fat, bureaucratic idiot to protect. What else can go wrong? Obviously, Battousai aka Akai the donzel had forgotten about Murphy's law- even though Murphy hadn't even been born then his law had already been in effect. And whatever else could go wrong...

"Adauchi Akai again?" That was the sharp-faced assistant of Hiruma, his narrow black eyes peering at Akai from underneath his messy, short bangs. "I thought I had ordered another... well, if they sent you then there's no help- you'll simply have to make do as a waiter for Hiruma-san's visitors. Please stand by the doors inside his office." That meant no slacking off, dozing, or leaning against the walls. Just the right time for his luck to prove that what could go wrong...

...did go wrong. Hiruma was the usual picture of incompetence, only slightly sugarcoated by the clever injections of his assistant who, by all means, looked downright murderous whenever Battousai made as much as the slightest movement. He would have used his black ponytail to stab the donzel had this been in any way possible. Akai was careful not to breathe in the wrong way- he was a little edgy that day, a little sore, a little insecure about what he would do since he still had no idea how to convince an eighteen-year-old thinks-of-herself-as-a-man that she was a girl. The first step, he thought, was to make her aware of her body's reactions, to make her realize she simply didn't do what a man would do in certain situations.

In his own training, while learning the art of the sword, the first thing he had to get to know was his body. How his limbs would move under certain circumstances, how his heart would beat, the way sinews, muscles and bones worked together to create lightning-fast movements. He had been so clumsy at first, always moving too much, too far, slowing himself down because simple efficiency of movement had been a goal unattainable.

He had managed to control his body after a while, and he had become so intensely familiar with it that he didn't even have to listen to it to know its reactions. From himself, then, this knowledge had expanded to others, to the ability to predict his opponent's movements by reading the ones made before, second-guessing their intentions with almost supernatural accuracy.

Now if only he could second-guess her...

"Akai! You're to get some water for the dignitaries! Don't you ever listen, boy?" That assistant was powerful- his strike hurt, but perhaps it was only the bruises that made him more vulnerable... amber ice in his soul, fought down by all means, he bowed and went to get the order. The assistant's watchful eyes bore into his back, making him feel open, readable, despite the dampening control he exerted over his emotions, control that should be enough to even mask his kenki.

"I'll go get it," he muttered, careful to keep his face shadowed. The assistant's clipped, precise speech whose every word was edged like a freshly minted coin suggested that he would not be as easy to fool as the rest of the castle. He was a hunter, a true hunter, not a would-be-but-too-gentle tracker like the King.

"I'd do so quickly, boy. Otherwise you'll have Shishio Makoto to answer to. And I'm neither as lenient nor as foolish as Hiruma Gohei..." The threat was barely veiled, and Battousai couldn't suppress the feeling that man had him figured out. But then why would he keep quiet about the true identity of 'Akai the donzel'?

"I will." He left his words hanging in the room while going, careful not to let his guard slip even in the slightest, to make his steps self-assured but without the overwhelming presence he would be had he let go, to fetch what he was told to. It wasn't far to the next indoor well, a small niche in the thick castle walls, looking like a torchlit bench made out of oily, black schist, not very inviting to couples looking for a romantic setting to their rendezvous but perhaps adequate for those seeking only solitude and refuge. Grimacing slightly he pushed the heavy stone plate aside, the jarring scraping accompanied by the merry tinkling of the chain attached to it on the one side and to an old and creased leather bucket on the other side. Quickly lowering the bucket into the black maw swallowing all the light the torch offered and not giving anything back, he let the rusty chain slip through his fingers, each link like a step towards an unknown future as it scraped against the calluses on the back of each digit.

So fitting, he thought, that chain and bucket don't know what they will meet yet they are forced forward by a driving force they cannot resist… what did that Shishio mean, I would be answering to him? Focus! his face settled into a fierce scowl he retrieved the vessel full of sloshing cool, clear water, pouring it into the sparkling crystal carafe he had brought with him before making his way back to Hiruma's state chamber.

What did he mean by telling me I would have him to answer to? I didn't take Hiruma Gohei's assistant for a fool. He might know who I am- but then he would also know that I'm not susceptible to blackmail. He must have something else in mind... but what?

The water in the crystal carafe perched precariously on a silver tablet made soft, clinking sounds as droplets of water sloshed against their confines, eager to break out but held in check by the high translucent walls of their prison. The abyss stares back at you if you stare down it... perhaps it is simply some similarity I have sensed between that man and myself. That might be it... because I can't imagine there would be a conspiracy going on within the castle walls involving Hiruma and his assistant while they are under the direct scrutiny of the chief investigator...

Self-deprecation was not in his nature, in spite of this the donzel bowed deeply entering the room the conference was held in and placing his load on the pompous mahogany table occupying most of it. Heads swiveled towards the small, cloaked and hooded figure but disinterest prevailed after Hiruma dismissed him with a flick of his pudgy wrist, showing off the twisted and crooked thumb of his right hand, broken and wrongly mended, yet bearing a jewel-studded ring that drew the eyes to the gnarled digit with its overbearing sparkling. Softly sighing to himself, the young man clamped down even tighter on his ki. Hiruma's casual arrogance, the way he didn't even think about danger, irritated him to no end. Add to this the silent presence in the corner of the room, and you had one Battousai coiled up tighter than a steel spring used to puffer coaches from the holes and stones in the road. He had to be even more careful not to give himself away as he stalked stiffly back towards the large decoration-only bookshelf, standing next to the entrance to the conference chamber and housing a staggering amount of books assorted according to the color of their backs. Leaning his back against it, eyes closed, the donzel resigned himself to another few hours of listening to the droning voices of old men who didn't even know what they were talking about and were more interested in sharing the best menu suggestions and recipes for guinea fowl steeped in juniper sauce.

However, his silent musings and the comfortable feeling of polished wood against his back and delicious, dusty parchment in his nostrils were interrupted by Himura Gohei's assistant demanding the donzel leave the chamber since he was not permitted knowledge of state secrets. Hiruma acquiesced with a wobbling nod that made Battousai wonder why his head had not yet lost grip of his neck amidst the layers of lard that encased them both, and Battousai was free to leave.

"Go and train, boy," Shishio instructed his turned back with a glint in his eyes that spoke of malicious intentions. The donzel, certain in his knowledge that the assistant wouldn't dare to try anything in the presence of his employer, bowed exaggeratedly.

"As you wish..." He omitted any address and left before Shishio could retort.

*~*

King Kamiya had held twenty-five receptions so far, all of which were a great success among his advisors and a great drama to watch for any spectators, of which there were as many as the great Reception Hall of Dunkelland Castle could hold since it was the first time King Kamiya delivered justice to those beneath him. True to Dunkelland tradition, sentences had in twenty-four out of twenty-five cases been a personal tragedy for those seeking the King's wisdom. According to the teachings of the late King Koshijirou, it did society no good should perpetrators of law ever be turned lose again, thus the number of crimes warranting- in the King's eyes- life-long imprisonment or a death sentence had been increased considerably. His son, not at all comfortable with killing someone for just trespassing on royal property with what he perceived as his own hands- he had to sign the verdicts, after all- had tried to persuade his father to let these 'criminals' go, if only once.

"But son, they have violated the law. I cannot tolerate this. Remember, a King is to be strict and hard. You have to say what the Law says. But you have to smile when you say it, partner." A smile had touched his lips at these words, curling around the downcast corners of his mouth like a poisonous snake preparing to strike, and Kamiya had signed every single verdict in record time just to get out of reach of that smile since it promised unpleasant... encounters. Since then, young Kamiya had never believed in clemency anymore.

It was a mother, crying and begging for the life of her oldest child, a son a few scant months King Kamiya's senior, that returned him to reality. Carefully studying the brief on that son, something he hadn't even bothered doing in the past twenty-four cases, the King eyed the groveling creature at his feet, his toes reflexively recoiling in disgust and fear that her filth might touch him. She was plump, her abdomen and breasts inflated from years of hard housework on a diet of gruel and watery vegetable soup- even though the King knew nothing about peasant's diets he had heard what they consisted of- and one child too many, her face leathery and hardened from the merciless curing of the sun on the fields, her hands gnarled into claws from curling around the handles of the tools of her trade. She was ugly, King Kamiya thought, so unlike the angelic portraits of his ancestors hanging in the castle's shrines. But her eyes held a certain beauty to them, bloodshot and tear-filled as they might be, they shone with an inner strength the King couldn't help but admire and wonder if it was in his eyes as well. She was frightened beyond belief, not because she might lose her life or spend it in prison, but because her child, her only son, faced that very fate.

I wonder what it would be like to have children... the King thought, and immediately brushed the thought aside. He was still very young, only eighteen years of age, and not a single female in the whole country had ever caught the eye of the striking young man for more than a few seconds. His father had meant for him to marry much, much later, he knew that, and he had every intention of sticking to his father's wishes as long as he could do so.

"Please... he only wanted to help me... he saw we were hungry, his sisters, they were dying... he couldn't help but join these bandits... please, take my life for his, I will die for him, but save my son, my King, my Lord, please, save my son!" She flung herself forward, her parched and rough lips intending to touch his expensive soft leather shoes, and he lashed out with his foot in disgust, sending the woman sprawling on the floor a few feet from the throne he was sitting on. She flinched and cried out in pain, her eyes widening and unfocusing for a second, but never once leaving his face.

"Please..." she sobbed brokenly. King Kamiya scowled, but looked at the thick roll of paper in his hands again. The boy was nineteen years old, a thug, scoundrel... caught in the company of notorious bandits, but he had not yet been involved in any of their misdeeds. Technically, the law permitted the King to punish even association with subversive elements by death, but in this case...

"Tell her to leave me alone, and bring me the son," he ordered. The woman immediately degenerated into a blubbering mass of gratitude on the floor, kissing the ground and praising the mercy King Kamiya showed his subjects. Fact was, the King was only bored beyond belief, and from what he had read this scoundrel might be an interesting diversion for him, a natural-born troublemaker.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing? Get your filthy pranks off me! I- argh! I am the great- urgh! I told you to get off!" The struggle on the outside of the heavy brass doors was loud enough to attract the attention of even the last snoring old man in the back rows of the reception hall. The King's blue eyes blazed like storm clouds being hit with lightning, and he sharply ordered three guards to investigate the commotion. Just as he sent them outside, however, the doors flew open with a bang, and two struggling men hauling a young, brown-haired male individual, obviously knocked out cold, into the room and down the aisle. Dumping their load at the foot of the King's throne, making sure that he would bang his head on the unrelenting stone tiles forming the black and white, star-shaped mosaic of the floor they stood, panting and saluting their liege with as much dignity as they could in their disheveled state.

"What is this?" King Kamiya asked, his commanding voice even sharper than his gaze, his fists clenched in the soft, red velvet of his throne's armrests.

"This is the requested felon, Kamiya-sama," one of the soldiers stated between two deep breaths, inconspicuously fingering the swelling around his right eye. He would have a nice black bruise there in a few more minutes, he concluded from the stinging his careful touches brought him. He grimaced at the thought. Just when he had planned to take that little kitchen maid out on a date tonight... well, perhaps he could somehow write that one marring of his handsomeness off to a fierce battle against a very... dangerous...

"This is your son?" the King queried, looking at the evaporating puddle of tears where a minute ago there had been the woman crying for her son. Said woman was all over the heap of dirty clothing and long limbs sprawled across the King's precious stone floor. The boy in question groaned from the back of his throat, deep pools of molasses blinking disorientedly at the sea of legs and dirt-covered shoes that were the sitting prospectors from his point of view. His rather bushy hair, carelessly chopped off so that it stood up in clumps and spikes, seemed to have been brown once, but during his time in prison and because he had been dumped onto the not exactly spotless floor the way he had been it had acquired a coating that lent it the stark gray color of elephant skin. Rubbing his head he sat up, pushing his mother off his uncooperative body in the process and apparently only now realizing his surroundings.

"Oi! Aren't you the King? And what's my mother doing here?" He rubbed the back of his head, scowling as his palms encountered two or three lumps obtained during his earlier struggles and his encounters with hard surfaces, trying to make sense of what had happened. There had been the soldiers, telling him he was to receive his sentence... he had, of course, not intended to go out without a fight, his time with the bandits, short as it might have been, having taught him that he who fights the soldiers and successfully disables them lives to see another day. There had been too many of them, however, a seemingly endless supply of similarly dressed fools streaming out from wherever they were bred and kept, and he had distinctly remembered being thrown against one sharp arris of a quadrangular pillar. His head had not taken to that kindly, thus his earlier disorientation and confusion... those bastards must've knocked him out! And now he was facing the almighty King of Dunkelland...

"I am King Kamiya, as you have so cleverly stated. Your mother is here to get you out of my sight, scoundrel, hopefully forever. Now leave!"

The young man sat dazedly, hand still raised behind his head, brown-gray hair flopping down into his eyes, his mother all over him, kissing and hitting him alternately. "Wait... I'm out of here? Well then, Your Royal Highness, until never!"

"Wait!" the King's scribe stopped him before he could get himself and his mother off the floor, down the aisle and into sweet freedom. Murmuring something unrepeatable, the gangly young man, who was a good two feet taller than the diminutive and pudgy scribe waited, his back turned to the throne, the King and his court, causing murmurs to arise all over the hall. Nobody turned his back on the King after he had just pardoned him in a show of his great mercy was the general consent.

"What is it?" The freed prisoner fingered the torn hem of his dirty shirt between his fingers, scowling in disgust when they came away all grimy.

"You are not to leave the castle, according to your sentence. Listen. King Kamiya in all his merciful wisdom has decreed the following sentence: The person known under the name of Sagara Sanosuke, also known under the name of Zanza, shall be from now on until the day he dies a soldier in the service of our beloved country Dunkelland. Desertion is punishable by death. King Kamiya also reminds the person known as Sagara Sanosuke, that attempts at desertion will force our wise and gentle King to order the removal of his whole family from society in order to prevent any more individuals such as the aforementioned subject to come to life. Signed King Kamiya, Lord of Dunkelland, dated..."

Shell-shocked, the young man stared at the imposing brass doors, so close to where he stood. His mother cried out in despair, her son being a soldier meaning the only really strong worker among their family being gone, she and her daughters left to starve or sell themselves. Shaking with irrepressible sobs, the strain overwhelmed her at last and she fainted, held up in the strong arms of her son. He lifted her up into a fierce embrace, her deceptively sturdy-looking body as frail as a bird's. Hell's fires burning in his eyes he faced the King, fists clenched into each other around the back of his poor mother, struggling to speak yet unable to do so because of rage constricting his throat and paralyzing his tongue. Finally, he threw the King and his court one last, very dark look before stalking off, carrying his mother with him. The soldiers followed him through the sea of murmurs like ghosts, feeling spooked as he parted and silenced it like Moses parting the Red Sea. Nobody dared to meet the furious gaze of Sagara Sanosuke, also known as Zanza, for fear of being burned to death.

The King watched the scoundrel's departure with detached interest, chuckling slightly as the doors banged shut behind the tall man's back. This 'Zanza' would prove to be amusing to keep around, he surmised, and it would prove a challenge breaking him and making him his toy... or perhaps he should try that donzel first? The bath incident was promptly remembered, a reddish tinge coating the King's cheeks that he desperately tried to hide. Perhaps he should refrain from thinking of either of them and instead concentrating on handing out justice.

"Next!" he ordered, the squeak in his voice being hopefully mistaken for boredom. Time for another fool to meet his fate.

*~*

Clad in the stiff, dark green and black uniform of a castle guard, his body clean, hair held back by a blood red bandanna he had chosen for convenience's sake Sanosuke leaned against the high walls of Dunkelland Castle, the merlon-crowned twin towers that guarded the gates just a stone's throw away. Calm and quiet, the land at his feet seemed to invite his gaze, to cleanse his soul of the desperate, burning hatred he felt at the mere thought of the vile creature residing under the same roof as he. King Kamiya... he had thought the previous King had been bad, the main reason for him to join the bandits being that the King's repression of his people had reached insufferable limits, limits that forced young girls to sell their bodies to any stranger they encountered in order not to starve to death, limits hat meant his for his family to suffer through a winter of freezing cold without a fire since he had declared the woods off-limits to peasants who might disturb his prey, limits that meant each and every person could be taken prisoner at any time, interrogated by the legendary cruel chief investigator and not be released ever. Sanosuke had not been able to endure these limits, his father being taken prisoner at the accusation of having seen and hidden the man the King was obsessed with, Battousai, being the last spark needed to ignite the fire of rebellion in his heart.

Rebellion lost to cold, lost to the army of Dunkelland, lost to the treachery among his people, lost to King Koshijirou and his son, King Kamiya. Sanosuke had been throw into prison, the rest of the 'bandits'- they called themselves freedom fighters, robbing the tax wagons carrying the crops the farmers had grown in tedious work to the castle to feed the King and the nobles, to keep warm and satisfied their fat, ugly ladies, to keep in good spirits their lazy soldiers while the population hungered, froze, died- slain and left for the crows to feed on.

"It's a harsh reality, but you punching holes into the stone won't make it better, Sagara Sanosuke aka Zanza," a cool voice announced uninvitedly. Sano started, whirling around ready to defend himself- and coming face to face with a slip of a boy, not unlike the King, clad in a dark green cloak like his own, only that this person had his hood up to cover his face and hair.

"And you are?" The boy brushed his hood back, shining red hair almost blinding in its shade meeting Sano's eyes a split second before golden eyes stared him down. The taller man sucked in a sharp breath.

"You are..." A move so quick Sanosuke couldn't even see it placed the redhead's finger on his lips.

"My name is Adauchi Akai," he stated evenly. Sano only stared. "We are being watched," 'Akai' added. Dumbfounded, Sanosuke nodded.

"Call me Sano. And who is watching us?"

... to be continued ...

*grins* I swear I don't know why these chapters keep getting longer and longer... it takes longer to type up longer chapters,after all... and I am truly sorry I cant keep them nice, short and quickly coming. However, while writing this chapter I stumbled across some funny facts... to be honest, I was so bored during English class I started reading my dictionary... earned me weird looks from just about everyone, from my teacher to the rest of my course... anyways, here's what I found *smiles*:

Self-floccinaucinihilipilification is a synonym for self-deprecation... and it is an honest-to-god English word! I just about exploded laughin when I read it... especially the 'pili' part...

'Smile when you say it, partner' does, contrary to common belief, not come from the various cowboy movies that employ the line. The saying has been coined by Owen Wister in The Virginian as 'When you say that, smile.' Wonder what difference the victim being sentenced to death should see when the verdict is delivered by a smiling judge instead of a scowling one...

Okay, now that Chibi's weird facts of the week ™ have been established we can move on, right? So here's the

Reviewer's corner

Zeh Wulf: Wow, thank you! I hope you liked this chapter as well... it's not as intense as the last one, so... *shrugs* I think I will enjoy school... it's the final year. At the moment, everything's quiet, but once the panic starts it's fun to watch *snickers*

Leigh4: You are voicing my very thoughts... poor Kaoru needs help. Thank you for your encouragment and here you are with the continuation!

MP1: The bath mystery has been solved... *grins* and more introspectiveness coming up soon *grins*

Natsuko: Not much romance in this one, I fear... needed to establish a few more things... So you do assignments while at school as well? *phew* I always thought I was weird because of that!

:): I am actually quite fond of Saito, believe it or not. Nothing against an extremely cynical, slightly arrogant man! He makes a great partner in a discussion!

Liquid Fire: Like B/K as well. Here's your update!

Darkening: I sleep very little (around four hours a night is enough)... and I don't exactly know how I manage school. You know my skipping grades has more to do with a nomadic lifestyle than with intelligence! Are you still playing the trumpet? Just asking because I accompany Ry on the piano this weekend... he's playing Telemann.

lucia: How Battousai got into Dunkelland Castle will remain a mystery for at least another chapter... but I hope you'll still continue reading.

all: I'm extremely sorry I have to keep the responses so short this time, but I've slightly strained my wrist when practising the piano (Waldstein Sonata) and have to hold still for a day or two so it won't get worse. Hope you still liked the latest installment of RtK and tell me what to do better in a nice little review!

Cya!!!

Chibi-chan