Disclaimer: Me again. I still don't own anything involving Rurouni Kenshin or Samurai X, so if you chose to sue me, I would have no real money to give. Sorry. Guess you'll have to try another fanfiction author...

Lone Wolf

The officer quietly made his way through the streets of Tokyo. Today had officially been his last day as part of the police force, not that this stopped him from wearing the uniform or carrying his sword one final time. He narrowed his amber eyes as he made his way through the deserted streets, shimmering moonlight glinting off of his sword as well as the silver threaded through his black hair. Today was a day to end things: the police force, the name Fujita. Saito smirked. The day he and Battousai would end their duel... finally.

He approached the dojo, expecting Battousai to sense his presence and meet him. That was one thing Saito could say about Battousai, even as an idealistic wanderer, his senses had never dulled.

Which was why it was so disconcerting that he'd been outside for a full minute with no reaction. Saito scowled, disgusted with the idea that Battousai had let himself go so much that he could be taken by surprise. He snorted. Was it even worth fighting him, then? He had no grudge against Himura Kenshin. Saito and Battousai just had some unfinished business. But if the hitokiri couldn't be drawn out...

Saito finally stalked up to the dojo and knocked. Battousai had better just be away... Saito could leave a formal challenge, then, without feeling that that the hitokiri had become unworthy...

It took Yahiko a minute to recognize the man standing at the door to the dojo. It couldn't be Saito. It didn't make sense. Even though Kenshin and the former Shinsengumi leader had faced Shishio together, they were hardly on good terms. Saito couldn't be here to pay his respects...

Then he understood. Yahiko looked to Sanosuke for some reaction, but got nothing. Sano had hardly spoken since it had happened. Yahiko didn't push it. He stepped out of the clearing. This is what he and Sano were there for, after all. In case someone found out where the Battousai's body was resting.

Saito didn't even turn. He just spoke. "Where is he?"

Yahiko didn't hesitate. "In the dojo. You can go in. Kaoru isn't home."

Saito nodded, slid the door open, and entered.

Sano waited until the door slid shut before he spoke. "Why did you tell him?"

Yahiko shrugged. "He won't do anything to the body. You know why he came."

Saito's eyes took a moment to adjust. It was so dark. Was Battousai still sleeping? He was halfway through another disgusted snort, when he began making out shapes in the room. Someone had died.

Saito's blood froze. For the first time in his life, he was hesitant. He walked slowly to the body, knowing full well who it was, but refusing to believe. Battousai had been one of the few people whom Saito still respected even in the Meiji. He couldn't be dead.

He knelt next to the body. It didn't make sense. He didn't look like he'd been cut down. How could he be dead? How could the legendary Battousai die? And even as he asked himself, he was remembering Okita.

"Damn." He didn't even realize he'd whispered it. But it felt good to say, nonetheless. What right did Battousai have to die? What right did Okita have to die? "Damn you!"

He stood over the body, glowering. Suddenly, he shifted his glare to the shadows at the back of the dojo where he'd sensed someone sitting, as though keeping the Battousai company. "How?"

He'd expected to take her by surprise, but instead she answered calmly, "Heart failure."

"Damn."

He heard her stand.

"You can stop damning him, now," the woman said dryly. "I'm sure he didn't die just to inconvenience you."

His hand tightened on the sword hilt. He wasn't in the mood.

The woman walked up to Saito and stood next to him, looking down at the body. Now that she was in the faint moonlight, he recognized her as the lady doctor, Megumi.

"He can't die this way."

Megumi's eyes didn't leave Battousai's face. "That's funny. I thought you of all people would understand."

"Understand?"

"That he's human. That death could come to him as readily as anyone else. More readily maybe. You and he... you faced death all the time. Why the surprise now that it came?"

"Stupid woman," he said.

Her eyes widened and she finally looked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Of course death comes readily. Of course he can die. Why don't you try listening to what I say before you assume what I mean? He shouldn't have died this way. He was a swordsman. He lived by the sword. He should have died by the sword. That was an honor he deserved."

"I don't think he'd agree with you," she said softly. "He lived by the sword, because people made him do it. But he chose not to die that way. He wanted to lead a normal life. The life that the revolution stole from him." She closed her eyes to mask the tears. "At least leave him to his death, or do you think that choice should have been stolen from him as well?"

Saito just scowled. "Don't talk as though you can understand Battousai's mind."

"I don't know Battousai's mind, but I know Kenshin's mind," she replied. "That's enough." Her eyes opened and her expression hardened. "Hajime Saito, think, how would you want to die? In a bloody revolution or quietly among friends?"

His answer was immediate. "With a sword in my hand. I am a swordsman, and I always intended to die like one."

Megumi shook her head, frustrated. "And where is a swordsman like you supposed to find that sort of a death in the Meiji era?"

Saito looked down at Battousai's body, his hand closed on the hilt of his katana.

It took her a moment to understand. "You mean... you didn't just come here to fight him? You came here to...?"

"I never thought about who would win," he said scornfully. "We've fought before, and it's always come to a draw. It stood to reason that in the end we'd kill each other. I've always known it. But after Shishio, he wouldn't fight me. That stupid rurouni oath of his had to come in the way again."

After a long pause, Megumi began to laugh. At first quietly, but soon it was as though she couldn't stop.

Saito watched her, progressively growing more irritated. Apparently Battousai's death had driven them all crazy. Wonderful. "What?" he finally snapped.

It took a while longer for her to control herself, but when she did, he noticed that her eyes were completely lucid. "I'm sorry," she said, still chuckling. "It's just what you said. That his rurouni oath got in the way of your perfect swordsman's death. I couldn't help but think about something you said to him a long time ago. That he was a failure even as a rurouni, because he couldn't properly protect anyone without killing. And I couldn't help but think about how ironic it is."

"How ironic what is?" Saito snapped. This woman was maddening.

She smirked and looked at Kenshin one last time before turning away. "Just that back then he was never a failure at protecting others without killing. I can't help but think how ironic it is that now, of all times, he finally let you be right. He protected you from yourself. And this time you are right... someone did have to die in the process." She walked to the door. "He did." She closed it behind her.

Saito was finally alone with Battousai.

At least the crazy doctor was gone. He put her out of his mind. But that didn't stop his frustration. And although he wouldn't admit it, he was angrier for Battousai's sake than for his own. Battousai had been a great adversary during the revolution. He had still been a skilled fighter during Meiji. And from what he'd heard, he'd been an impressive leader in China. But what did any of that matter, if after all this, he'd died as some broken down rurouni... if he'd lost his swordsman spirit in the end? And Saito had heard that Battousai hadn't raised a sword in China. Great leader or no, could he have done that with his swordsman spirit intact?

Saito stared at the body, pained. He remembered the last time he'd seen Battousai fight. It had been against Shishio. That time Battousai should have died. They all should have died. But somehow the hitokiri had friends coming out of the woodwork trying to save him, buying him time... dying for him. And Battousai had sprung back, more powerful than ever. Saito had seen in that middle-aged man the powerful teenager who had spilled the blood of so many of the Shinsengumi. His swordsman spirit had been so strong at that moment against his successor that it had taken on a physical form, gusting wind and shredding leaves. Those leaves had smothered Shishio's fire. That man, that Battousai had been what Hajime Saito had been looking for. Battousai would have won that fight, even if Shishio hadn't died from his own body giving out.

Saito sighed, head bowed. That was what the Meiji meant, wasn't it? Great warriors dying ordinary deaths? Their bodies just giving out? Makoto Shishio... Himura Battousai... and how would Hajime Saito die...? A stomach ulcer?

"Is this what Meiji means, Battousai? Losing our honor? Losing our fighting spirit?" He closed his eyes. "Damn." It was barely a whisper.

He stood there for a long moment feeling the cool breeze blow in from the opened dojo window. He listened to the rustling of the branches outside, disgusted with the peace of the night. The sound of the wind suddenly gaining in force and power was actually refreshing. Saito opened his eyes and turned in time to see a gust of wind blow a handful of leaves through the window, straight at him. He swept them out of his face, allowing them to blow past. His expression was still unreadable, but he was somewhat unnerved. There had been something odd about that wind. The sudden force... only to return to this peaceful breeze. He turned back to Battousai to find leaves scattered over his body. There was something undignified about it. And as much as Saito just wanted to walk out and leave, he couldn't.

He bent to brush off the leaves, and for the first time realized that the Battousai was laid out with his sword by his side. It was that ridiculous sakabatou, but still, Saito froze at the sight of it. That sword had been given away. Saito remembered having damned the Battousai that day, too, when he'd heard that the hitokiri had softened enough to walk undefended. But it was here beside him, now.

"A sword to protect the weak." He sneered, but thought once more of the battle with Shishio. Battousai had fought well, but that final surge of swordsman spirit hadn't come until his friends had fallen. "Is that what you were, Battousai? Even during the revolution? Is that what you meant to be?"

Saito finally straightened, leaving the last leaf on the sakabatou. The rest lay around him almost as a tribute. "Maybe... you were always a rurouni."

Hajime Saito shook his head and walked back out into the black night. He didn't acknowledge the boy or the rooster head as he passed. He lit a cigarette, lost in his own thoughts. Battousai had died this way and he would accept it. If the Meiji had weakened the Battousai, he would have to tolerate that, too. But for the first time, it occurred to Saito that maybe, just maybe he had to consider the fact that Battousai had chosen to join the revolution to bring peace, not just through killing, but by protecting people. And if that were the case, then perhaps Battousai... Himura Kenshin, had earned the right to die this way, peacefully, among his friends.

He flicked the cigarette into the road. He would have to think on this... But for now, he felt the need to go home. His wife was waiting.

Author's Note: Okay, author's note in order here (although not as long as the last one... THANK GOD). I have renamed this story once again. The overall title is now "Those Left Behind" (which I hope by now you've noticed). And I've replaced the crappy old title for Hiko's story ("To Mourn") with "The Price of Peace." Yay! I'm finally happy with a title. Many thanks to for this title suggestion!

"Those Left Behind" was never intended to be more than a one shot. But then, Megumi started nagging me about how Ken-san didn't say goodbye to her again. And Saito - - shudders - - Saito started calling me evil for killing Battousai so "dishonorably." (I will have nightmares of a chibi Saito chasing me around hollering "Slay Evil Immediately" for weeks), so he needed a story as well to ... placate him. And now, he's griping about how I left out some important thoughts of his. So, as you can clearly see, this story is going to be a collection of short stories revolving around Kenshin's death. I hope you can tolerate it!

Time to go back to writing. I have a katana jabbing me in the back, and an amber eyed man, claiming to be a cop named Fujita growling at me to "do it right." I wish he'd quit smiling like that, though... creepy...

Please read and review.