Blanket tucked around him, Kenshin dreamed.

Wet iron sand sluiced down a raw hill slope, pouring through ditches dug by gangs of sweating men. Axes thudded into trees, felling still more of the moist forest around them. The scent of charcoal hung in the air. Above the ordered chaos, a wizened man studied running sand with satisfaction. "It will be good steel."

Long black hair whispered over a red and white cloak; the tall swordsman crossed his arms. "You can tell already, hmm?"

"It will be as the kami will. But some should be of the quality you will need, ryuu-sama.

"Shh." Dark eyes gazed down at sandy water. "You never know who's listening."

A blur; a jump. Heat. Impact. Folding, pounding, folding; a flash of white, as if glimpsed from the corner of an unseen eye.

Reluctantly, the hammer stopped. "I still say this risks the blade."

Firelight glowed on flowing black hair, glinted amber in dark blue eyes. "Says the man who's worked far more malign magics into steel."

"I won't argue that. And I won't apologize, either. Swords are made to kill; you know that as well as I."

The tall swordsman shrugged slightly, red cloak glimmering in the forge light. "I risk far more than your skill with tama-hagane, Muramasa-san. I can only ask that you follow in the footsteps of your father, and his before him, and allow me the chance."

"For you - yes. But such a blade..."

"It is as the fang asks."

"A sakabatou?"

"Not what most of them seek, no." Dark eyes smiled wryly, glowing gold for one brief moment. "Perhaps this one will come home."

The swordsman's strong hand reached out, pressing a curve of ivory into red-hot metal. The fang smoked; glowed. Sank into steel like water.

"Forge it well, Muramasa-san. Be careful with my child..."

Another slide, this one touched with images, feelings; heat and the thickness of clay, sharpening and a testing slash through dead flesh and bone. A warm, steady hand, dancing new steel through sun-warmed air.

The glittering pattern stopped, and he felt a laugh. "Awake at last, eh?"

Confusion. Newness. Fear, and hope, mingled as one. :

"I'm your shishou, baka deshi. Not your bearer. Him you'll have find yourself, somewhere in the world off this mountain. But you're not ready for that. Not yet." Fingers flexed on the hilt. "Watch, deshi. And feel. The heart of this you know already. Learn, and remember.

"This is the first kata of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu..."

He lost himself in the flowing movement; slow, so slow the first time, even as he sensed how it was meant to move, one swift blur of silk and steel. But the first time was slow, for correctness; patient as sunlight, melting one sweet drop off a hanging icicle.

Yes. This way.

Quicker now. Sharper. Again, and again; finally blurring from the first kata to the second, then third, blissfully wrapped in the song of steel through the wind...

Wait. Something's moving.

Quiet. Familiar. Not a threat. But it was moving outside the world he danced in. Outside the-

Dream?

"Kenshin?"

Kenshin sat up with a gasp, fingers closed on the warm lacquer covering the saya, head banging against the bedroom wall hard enough to make him wince. What- where- "Yahiko?"

Dressed in loose jeans, sneakers, and lettered t-shirt a particularly violent shade of red-black, his little brother stared down at him. Looked across the room toward the unused bed, dark brows climbing toward unruly hair. "Okay. Even for you, on a Saturday, that's weird."

"I had some trouble getting to sleep, that I did," Kenshin said evasively, disentangling himself from the nest of blankets Battousai must have pulled around them in the night. He couldn't really remember trying to sleep; the last he knew, he'd been just sitting against the wall, waiting for dawn.

'It is an effective ward against many races of Kin,' Battousai noted. 'They call it Big Mike. As in microwave. Which should give you some idea of the effect, ne?'

"Aa," Kenshin murmured, rising and thrusting the sheathed blade under the first winding of his obi. Battousai had been as good as his word, it seemed; he felt barely a twinge from his left arm. He shoved back the sleeve of his gi to check. Just a little bruise. Should be gone soon. I'll barely even notice it during kata... wait. Kata? I don't know kata!

"Heh. Yeah, you always say the late-night clients are the weird ones..." Yahiko's voice choked off.

"What is it?" Barefoot, Kenshin took a step toward his brother. "What's wrong?"

"Ah - you - um-" Yahiko pointed toward his waist.

Oops.

'Oh, this should be interesting to watch.'

Kenshin swallowed dryly. You're not going to help?

'He's your little brother.' A hesitation. 'And you told Sanosuke you didn't want Yahiko to know.'

Kami, no. Oh, that'd be a fine thing to tell your little brother, that it would. "Good morning, Yahiko, did you know that werewolves are real? And by the way, I killed a man last night." I think not.

Wait. Something about that thought... seemed off.

"Kenshin?" Yahiko asked, dark brown glance lifting from the inexplicable sword to his brother's pale face. "You okay? You seem a little spacey."

"More than a little," Kenshin muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Ah - someone asked me to hold onto this for a while, Yahiko. I'll be arranging to meet them later today." I dreamed I was a sword...

'You did?' Battousai touched the wispy images. 'Oh. Those are old memories. I didn't think they'd touch you so soon.'

Kenshin paused. That worries you?

'I didn't expect it.' Hesitance. 'Did they upset you?'

Upset. No, he didn't feel upset, exactly. Confused. Startled. And ever so slightly - off. Like the time he'd gritted his teeth, taken a broom, and climbed a shaking ladder to sweep storm debris off a roof, trembling at the dizzying height. Only by the time he'd finished, the worst of the fear had worn away, and he could stand, and breathe...

"-Breakfast?" Yahiko waved a hand in front of his face. Shook his head, and headed for the kitchen. "Man, you really are hopeless without coffee."

'Coffee?' The sword's voice was suddenly hopeful.

"I'd think you'd rather have tea, that I would," Kenshin murmured under his breath, heading for the bathroom. Socks. He had to have socks. And sandals. Bare feet felt nice, but given Yahiko had been walking into the apartment in shoes since the day of the accident - he really didn't want a stray bit of bottle glass in his toes.

'The odds of finding good green tea in an American house are about the same as finding one white hair in a black stallion's coat. I'd rather not. They've served coffee in Tokyo since Meiji, at least.' For a few minutes, there was silence. 'Is there rice?'

You're as bad as Yahiko! Combing out his hair, Kenshin stared at the unruly dark brown mass with dismay. Damn. What am I going to do with this?

'Why not just tie it back? It's long enough.'

Just. He could've sworn it had been barely inching out of its usual below-the-ears cut a few days ago. I must have missed a barber's appointment. He'd have to fix that. Soon.

'What is it with modern men and short hair? You're a rare-items dealer. You can have a little style.'

I don't need style, I need- Oh, I am not having this argument with a talking sword!

'Hmm. Definitely need coffee.'

Growling under his breath, Kenshin dug into the cabinet for a thick rubber band. Hair temporarily dealt with, he padded out into the apartment, sandals shushing over a throw-rug as he followed his nose to where milk was scorching, half-scrambled eggs were crackling in a pan set too low, and rice was about to burn. Now that he was up and moving, he was suddenly, inexplicably hungry.

'Ah. You do have rice.'

Just don't expect much from it, Kenshin warned. I can't help it if I learned to cook from an Irish cop first...

"Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?" Yahiko demanded some time later.

"Mmph?" Midway through his second serving of tuna, apples, and some of everything that had survived the stove, Kenshin blinked at him.

"You're messing with my head, aren't you?" the teenager accused. "The sword, the weird clothes, the rice - you never eat rice-"

"Not never," Kenshin said defensively. We emptied the pot? How?

'I'm a magical creation,' Battousai put in from where Kenshin had left the sword on an empty chair. 'I draw energy from the world around me to survive. Some of that energy comes from you. Especially when I heal. And I like the taste of rice.'

That's one of us, at least. Odd; he'd known he was eating rice, he just hadn't really noticed.

"It's one of Dad's reverse-psychology tricks, isn't it?" Dark eyes smoldered. "I can't believe you, Kenshin! That's low!"

"Maa, maa," Kenshin waved empty hands, trying to fend off the incoming argument. "Yahiko-chan-"

"Aha! I knew it!" Yahiko smacked a fist into his palm. "The clothes, the rice, the bits of Japanese - you never speak Japanese - the whole living-history gig. You think if I know what kendo really came from, I'll quit!"

"Iie. I mean, I didn't-"

"Well, it's not going to work! I'm going to keep studying with Kaoru. You said I could, and I will!" Shoving back his chair, Yahiko bolted for his room. The door slammed.

"Okay," Kenshin said, eyes wide with stunned amazement.

'I take it that happens a lot.'

Gathering up the dishes, Kenshin shook his head. "How could you tell?"

'The tilted pictures on the wall were my first clue,' came the wry reply. 'You don't speak Japanese?'

Kenshin shook his head. "Our father was third-generation New York. Most of what I know, I learned from listening to Sadako teach Yahiko. I don't know why I'm-" He stopped. Looked at black lacquer.

'Most likely,' Battousai agreed with the unvoiced thought. 'I do "think" in Nihongo, after all. And while your waking mind simply hears and understands, the child inside that still clings to those bits of your father's tongue is listening very carefully.'

Kenshin set a cup carefully down in the sink. "And just what else am I listening to?" I dreamed your memories. You haven't forced me to do anything, but - I'm doing what you want done, almost before you even ask. I feel - odd. Different.

'I-' The thought cut off, shock flashing to him like ice water. 'Kenshin! The balcony. Now!'

The sheath was in his left hand as he threw open the door; he scanned the rows of potted tomatoes and summer daylilies, the part of him that loved gardening noting that he had a chance to cross a good, strong red with a ruffle-edged white-

Translucent, concrete-gray feathers shifted at the edge of the railing. A pigeon the size of an eagle lifted its head and looked at him, eyes like living, molten glass staring straight into surprised violet.

'It's an Elemental.' Surprise, shock, a gripping tension in his gut. 'Part of the city given life by human emotion. If it's manifesting-'

Something bad is about to happen.

"Domo arigatou!" Kenshin flung over his shoulder, bolting back inside. Dishes were forgotten. The stove didn't even rate a glance. "Yahiko!" He rattled the teenager's bedroom knob. "Yahiko, open this-"

'No time!'

Steel slashed through wooden composites like paper. Kenshin barely registered the young teen's gaping stare before his hands reached out and grabbed.

'Move!'

"Ken- wha- ugh-"

Left hand pulling the boy through air by his t-shirt collar, Kenshin sprinted for the apartment's front door. Something sour prickled at his heart, a flinch, a warning; as if alien hate had suddenly taken on taste and heat and a sickly, angry glow. Something's out there-

'Several somethings. Don't stop!'

Kenshin slammed the door open and ran, stomping the hand and lighter of the gap-toothed man from Tani's kneeling by his door, drawing a swear from the bodyguard's pin-striped partner, and completely shocking Mr. Grimes five doors down as the elderly man tried to unwrap himself from his yapping terrier's leash. Something black and cylindrical sparked; Kenshin kicked it behind him into his apartment as he bolted down the hall, reflex registering danger and the need to get clear. Was that- it couldn't be-

'Good choice. Sorry about your apartment, though.'

Air whumped, broke into the whistle of metal shrapnel and a sudden choked scream. Kenshin didn't look back, unwilling to see what their own pipe bomb had done to the two Kin who'd tried to kill him. Yahiko's whimper was bad enough.

And then the shock of the blast hit, nearly shaking him off his feet, catching the eyes of four very disreputable types in suits and leather just pouring out of the opening elevator. One suit jumped toward them, a six-pack of glass bottles clinking in his grip; Kenshin's nose caught a whiff of gasoline, and - soap?

'Cocktails a la Molotov, as Sano would say.' Battousai's voice was grim as the four new thugs shared a semi-intelligent thought and bolted after them. 'Kami, no wonder the Elemental woke. They mean to-'

Red and white caught his gaze, and Kenshin veered toward it. Reached out, and yanked down on the fire alarm. Felt himself over-balance, even as the ear-splitting noise set the building ringing-

Muscles tensed without his will, working with the skid. His hand slapped the wall, adding just the right amount of momentum to level him out. 'Keep going. I've got you.'

Elevator- can't-

'No, we can't,' Battousai agreed; Kenshin felt a shift in his mind, a cascade of images and possibilities that sifted their current options at lightning speed. 'The stairs. Go up.'

Up? Terror shivered through him, only outweighed by the sure knowledge of death panting at their heels.

'You really hate heights, don't you?'

Yahiko's elbow jabbed at his back. "Damn it, put me down, Ken- son of a bitch!"

'Literally.'

Kenshin hit the stairwell doors and kept going, taking advantage of the stair's corner to get a glimpse of their pursuers without taking the time to turn. And wished he hadn't.

Fur sprouted on two of the thugs like a crawling brown wave, ripping apart cotton, straining black leather to its seams. Two humanoid wolves leapt up the stairs after them, moving at a speed nothing human could hope to match.

'Kenshin.' Firm. Implacable. And yet... still a question.

He let go of Yahiko's collar, and - let go.

It felt like falling. Tumbling into darkness, into endless coils of cool, silky scales. Coils that seemed to wrap around him, and warm, and quicken...

"Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, Ryuu Kan Sen Arashi!"


Alive. Kami, I feel alive.

The mid-air spiral caught the werewolves off-guard, let him strike both Kin before either could raise a clawed hand.

One werewolf collapsed to the steps as he touched down; neck broken, head lolling limp to the side as temporary death forced it back to human form. The other teetered on the railing, trying to breathe through shattered ribs, the weight of fur and muscle threatening to bear it over and down.

Battousai felt Kenshin's flash of panic, ruthlessly suppressed it. No. I will not hold back. Two lives ride on my blade this day. Yours. And Yahiko's.

Forgive me...

"Ryuu Sho Sen!"

The rising strike took the remaining werewolf in the throat. Even with only human strength to back it, Battousai felt the fatal crunch of a smashed larynx. The Kin's eyes widened, dilated black. Claws scrabbled at air.

Coolly, Battousai shoved.

Fur lurched over the railing, falling, falling-

Intent flicked at his ki sense; Battousai ducked and ran, hearing the firecracker snaps of a semi-automatic after the bullets had already passed him. Two more. I could take them now, but-

'Let me go! Kenshin's mind slashed at him, panic and fear sharpening a human will into a blade as keen as any katana. 'You promised!'

I did. Battousai flexed himself within the young man's mind as he scooped up a still-stunned Yahiko, preparing to yield the body Kenshin had loaned him. But keep running!


His lungs burned. His joints ached. He could still feel the shock of steel against flesh, the cool calculation that had shoved a werewolf over the railing to a lethal fall.

He could still hear echoes of the impact.

Seconds, Kenshin thought, pale. It was just - seconds...

Seconds that had shifted that presence of Battousai within him, tilting the world askew. The five senses he'd known since birth had expanded somehow, linking into a bizarre feeling from enchanted steel that sensed Kin, anger, threat, and tied it all into an unerring surety of where the next attack was coming from-

Hate pulsed at him, and he ducked again, feeling the spray of paint bits as the bullet smashed into the wall nearby. This is getting old, that it is.

"Why are they shooting at us?" Yahiko gasped, limp against his back. "What did you do? How did- you killed them?"

Kenshin gulped in air. "I said it was a bad night!"

"Bad night? We have the werewolf Mafia after us, and you call it a bad night?"

"Oro..." What did I just say?

'Save your breath,' Battousai advised. 'Worry about archaic Japanese later. Here comes the roof.'

Frying pan, fire, Kenshin thought flippantly, terrified beyond his usual loathing for heights of any sort. Here we-

Kenshin hit the door hard, steel rattling against his chest. Felt his hand go limp, dropping Yahiko, even as he stared at the industrial-strength chain wrapped around the bar handle, binding it to a thick ring set into the stairwell wall.

'Your building manager. Chained a fire door.' Inhuman fury poured into him, pulsing in time with the still-ringing alarm. 'Kami help me, when we get out of this-'

"Get in line," Kenshin growled. Took a step back, letting Battousai guide him into the sideways stance he somehow knew they wanted. Hand on the hilt. Pull, flip, strike-

The sakabatou's sharp edge screeched through steel like thick mud. "Go!"

Gaping, Yahiko found his feet. Stared a second longer at sheared steel. Glanced up at his brother, and bolted out onto the roof.

He was afraid. He was afraid of me...

Right now, I'm afraid of me!

'Panic later.' Battousai latched onto his fear and shook it, snarling at panic until it bared its throat in submission. 'Do you want to live? Do you want Yahiko to live?'

Unfamiliar anger rushed into the vacuum. You have to ask?

'Then be with me. I have a plan. Listen.'

The world went distant again. He nodded once, hearing angry footsteps pound up the stairs. Stepped silently out onto the roof to wait out of sight beside the open door. Still a floor down was a surviving werewolf. Beside him, the bright edge of a sorcerer. Farther down, he felt more fangs and fur; an unknown number of reinforcements, though he doubted there was more than a handful. And there, behind the solid cover of the roof A/C, beat the warm but faint brightness of a human heart. Yahiko.

'Yes. That's his ki.'

How?

'All humans have the potential to sense ki. You more than most. It's like hakama, Kenshin; all I had to do was show you the pattern.'

All? Kenshin asked skeptically.

'Later. Wait... wait... now!'

The sorcerer had just jumped out, a spike-haired Goth of a Japanese with leather collar and steel-studded eyebrows, dressed for counterculture irony in charcoal-gray suit and tie, one black-nailed hand lifted in a potent gesture. Kenshin let him take one more nervous step, then leapt.

Oh. More heights, he thought numbly.

Growling back toward human form, the lone still-suited werewolf darted out to back up his co-worker, fading claws gripping Molotovs as he wrinkled a still-canine nose at the air. "Where the hell did that Herd-" The werewolf sniffed. His jaw dropped.

"Over here."

The shock of the blow went through his wrists and shoulders, jarring his teeth together. Kenshin felt the set of his body, saw the angle of gritty roof, knew there was something wrong-

Landed in a tangle of unconscious fur and shattering glass, and felt something in his ankle give. The world went red with pain.

'Ugh... you're definitely not agile enough for a Ryuu Tsui Sen yet... no!'

The lash of lightning arced at him, blue and raging.

"Kenshin!"

Yahiko! No!

On one knee, Kenshin swept the sword out in a desperate parry, not knowing if it could work, not caring. He'd never seen this spell before, but Battousai had, and the knowledge that the sorcerer could shift its target with a gesture screamed in his heart.

Blue lightning met steel. Glowed, rippling from blue to ice-white to violet to a scream of blinding light.

Shattered into sparks.

'...I have a headache...'

One staggering, white-hot step, and Kenshin was on the stunned sorcerer, bearing the Japanese Goth to the pigeon-stained roof with every ounce of his small frame. "Tell them to back down," he hissed, tipping the sharp edge of his blade under a rough-shaved chin. "Now!"

"Everybody chill!" his hunter turned captive squeaked, eyes trying to bend to see the cold threat against his skin. "Shit!"

"Better," Kenshin said flatly. "I haven't killed any of you permanently today. It'd be a pity if I had to start with you." Oh kami, I'm going to throw up-

'No. You won't.' Battousai chilled the sickness before it could start, insulating him with calm calculation. 'Remember the plan. He can see magic. The werewolves might let their temper rule them and not look; he knows we can deal a permanent death.'

"Who sent you?" Kenshin bit out.

"Sent us?" Dark-edged eyes narrowed at him. "You wipe out C Spot and you need to ask? He was one of us, beeps!"

Beeps?

'Blue Plate Special.'

They really do think of us as food. Gods. "We disagreed about his dinner plans," Kenshin said dryly. "How did you find me?"

"Herd," the Goth snorted. "Think the furs can't follow a blood trail?"

'We didn't leave a blood trail. Not after I started healing you.'

But we left blood, Kenshin knew, recalling a shredded jacket tossed to rot in an alley.

'You think-?'

He doesn't feel like he's lying... oh, gods. I can feel that?

Yahiko's hands grabbed his shoulder, words pouring over each other in a rush. "Kenshin we gotta go now!"

Reflected in the edge of steel, Kenshin saw blue flames dance near the shattered Molotovs.

'Good night,' Battousai growled, flipping the blade to smack the sorcerer unconscious before they staggered clear. 'Stay awake, Kenshin. Stay with me.'

Easy to ask. Hard to do, as Yahiko dragged him toward the fire escape and flames roared behind them. Every step felt like someone had shoved broken glass into his ankle. The world was there, red, there, white-

'Hang on. Hold onto me. I'm here.'

Steel anchored him as they half-climbed, half-slid down to street level. He clung to the weight of it as fire trucks howled down the street, leaned on that cool, wild strength as if it were a scaly shoulder. Fight would have been easier with a wakizashi - good lord, did I-?

'Sanosuke has mine. We'll get it. Later.'

"Exact change," a bored Brooklyn accent droned.

Bus. Kenshin blinked at the gray-haired lady with a pink-sequined hat and a mad glitter in her eyes behind the wheel, suddenly aware those last few agonizing steps had been climbing up. We're on a bus?

"Um..." Yahiko fished in his pocket for change, cast his brother a panicked look.

He's been at the arcades again. Figures. Fishing his wallet and coin pouch from between the layers of his gi, Kenshin numbly counted out quarters.

'When did you-?'

"First rule of survival in the City that Never Sleeps," Kenshin murmured under his breath. "No matter what you wear, always find a place for your wallet."

Battousai laughed.

Kenshin let Yahiko drag him to an empty seat, half a breath from losing the battle to stay on his feet. "Where are we going?"

"You're asking me?" Some of the rough edge left Yahiko's breathing; he sat up, grinning. "Well, Kaoru knows kendo, right? I bet she knows about swords! That's what this is about, right?" he went on uncertainly. "I mean, you don't know kendo, and I saw you... man that was so cool!"

"Not cool," Kenshin said raggedly. He hurt. Everywhere. "I didn't want to... they would have killed us, Yahiko. I wouldn't have done it if there had been another choice, that I would not."

"Oh, come on! They're the bad guys, right?"

Kenshin shook his head. "It's not that simple."

'It never is.'

"They had reasons. Not good reasons, but..." Kenshin rubbed knuckles along his brow, trying to string coherent thoughts together. Pain, and... presence, pressed at his nerves like tightening duct tape. Anger and boredom and grief and joy and homicidal fury - all the swirling emotions of the city, crushing him. He swallowed dryly, feeling his stomach lurch.

Alarm gripped him. 'Kenshin. Kenshin, don't pull back. I can help, but only if you keep leaning on me. Stay with me, stay calm-'

No! He pried his inner self away from steel, biting back a gasp as the pain crushed in. You're - doing something to me-

"Kenshin?" Yahiko's voice was uncertain. "You don't look so good." Worry permeated the rough polish of teenaged cocky self-confidence, tinged with smoky surprise-

Too much.

"Wake me when we get there," Kenshin managed. And passed out.


Sitting seiza on her living room floor, Kaoru Kamiya sipped her cup of green tea, listening to the quiet tap of dancers practicing footwork on the floor above. Ah, Saturday. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. So quiet. So peaceful...

Kaoru slammed her cup to the floor. "It's a little too peaceful and quiet around here!"

Jumping to her feet, the master of the Kamiya dojo stalked toward the rack of her practice swords, hearing dancing footfalls get louder as she walked under them. If she couldn't immerse herself in the moment with tea, at least she could thump the stuffing out of a few imaginary opponents.

Cleansing breath. First stance. Look, and move.

Kaoru raised her bokken, fire in blue eyes. Air was going to regret being in the same room with her, today.

Head. Head. Parry. Sidestep. Head.

She chased her invisible foe across the wide floor, absently glad Dr. Genzai had let her know this apartment building even existed when she'd been searching for a place last year. Granted, he got a sometimes-babysitter out of the deal, but occasionally looking after Ayame and Suzumi was small enough payback for this.

A room big enough to dance in. Or experiment with feng shui layouts, before you spring alternative medicines on your patients. Kaoru slowed down, cooling off. Or practice kata.

"Okay," she sighed, resting polished wood against her shoulder. "Now that you've got that out of your system... just what is the problem? You're in a building full of people, it's not like you're lonely."

No, of course not. After all, even on a Saturday morning, she could always invite someone in for a cup if she wanted conversation. Though sometimes the place did seem a little too empty lately. She'd been thinking of going down to Wonderful Things later today; the Himuras' shop had a water fountain whose quiet ripples would soften the echoing walls. If she decided to spend that much. She'd been dropping by there every week for the past three, weighing the price against a martial arts instructor's thin salary.

Oh, get real. It's not the water fountain you're interested in.

Pity Kenshin didn't seem inclined to catch on.

From what Yahiko says, Kenshin's college girlfriend dumped him hard a few years back; Yahiko may have a mouth problem, but a thirteen-year-old doesn't throw around words like "family of psycho bastards" without good reason. I know how hard it is to get back into the scene after something like that. And they're both still pretty broken up about their parents.

Though that seemed to be getting better. Yahiko was a lot calmer in class lately, trying to help a few of the younger students when he could. And Kenshin had actually smiled at her last week in the shop, watching her when he thought she wasn't looking with a sort of wistful wonder.

Give it a little more time. It's not like a cute guy is just going to drop into my lap-

The intercom buzzed. Surprised, Kaoru walked over to the button. "Yes?"

"Kamiya-sensei?"

She tilted her head at the speaker, startled. The voice was familiar, but in the background- Someone's hurt. "Yahiko?"

"Can we come up? I mean, now? We're going to get funny looks if we stand out here too long - I'm kind of surprised nobody's done anything yet - um, help?"

She pressed the button to unlock the building's outer door and headed for the elevator. Usually Yahiko would take the stairs, but those rapid breaths in the background had sounded like real pain. Should I get Dr. Genzai? No, Yahiko's got a level head. Unless you bring up his parents. If someone were really hurt, he wouldn't be here, he'd be dialing 911. So - hurt but not serious, and Yahiko thinks I know what to do. Probably a fight, then. Darn teenagers. Just wait until I have it under control, then I'll give them both a piece of my mind. Tapping her foot, she scowled at the elevator doors.

Wood-sheathed panels opened, and Yahiko gave her a weak grin. "Um, hi?"

For a minute Kaoru couldn't say anything, taking in the white-faced man leaning on her student. Gi and hakama, like any kendo student, if kendo students wore red and made a habit of beating each other over the head in New York dust. Strong fingers clutching Yahiko's shoulder, lightly reddened, as if they'd gripped a sword through one of her own sensei's grueling top-level lessons. Long dark hair held back by a fraying rubber band, glinting with odd scarlet highlights in the hall light. "Kenshin?"

"Ohayo, Kaoru-dono." There was a pinched look to violet eyes, and the toes of his right sandal were barely brushing the ground. "I mean... good morning, Miss Kaoru... I..."

"Come on, let's get you off that ankle," Kaoru said briskly, tucking her arm around the man's shoulder in Yahiko's place. She heard her student sigh with relief; Kenshin might be an inch shorter than she was, but even a small grown man was no lightweight when you were a living crutch. Kenshin was in a fight? Kenshin hates fighting!

Which meant... this had to be a lot more serious than it looked.

First things first. She got the man inside and onto her battered blue couch, trying not to laugh as Yahiko screeched to a stop on the rough mat just inside her door, pulling off his sneakers with embarrassed haste. Now if he'd just show manners like that at home, I'd know those two were on their way back to okay.

Kaoru pulled off Kenshin's brown sock, noting how his fingers bit into the river-blue upholstery as she got knitted cloth past the swelling lump of his ankle. "You did a number on it, all right." She prodded gently at bruising flesh, hearing the hiss of breath he couldn't bite back. "I think it's just a bad sprain, but you probably should get it x-rayed."

"No." Kenshin's voice was soft, but with an edge of steel to it she'd never heard before. "No hospitals."

"Kenshin! She's trying to help. Don't be a jerk." Yahiko grabbed a chair from the kitchen and dragged it in front of the couch, sitting backwards on it to glare at his older brother.

"We can't." Kenshin's hands clenched on the couch as Kaoru started winding an ace bandage around his abused ankle. "I don't know what they'd find. And I don't plan to find out."

"Kenshin-"

"Yahiko. It was broken before."

Stilted silence. Tacking the end of the bandage in place, Kaoru looked between the two brothers. Kidding, right? He's got to be kidding. It's only been a few days since the last time I saw Yahiko. Broken bones don't heal in just a few days.

Wait. If it was broken - that bruise is just coming up. Not black and greenish. Whatever happened, just happened. It couldn't have been broken!

Except Yahiko's wide eyes said he believed his brother. And Kenshin-

Kenshin was watching her as if he expected her to bolt like a startled rabbit. Or as if he wanted to.

On that ankle? Not in my house, buster! "Yahiko," Kaoru said, not taking her eyes off the injured rarities dealer curled on her couch. "There's some icepacks in my freezer. Could you get one?"

"Ah - yeah." The teenager scampered off.

"Talk," Kaoru said bluntly, narrowing blue eyes.

"I - well - oh, gods." Kenshin dropped a hand to his obi, and drew out an unexpected shape of steel and black lacquer.

Kaoru let him place the sheathed sword in her hands, trying not to gape. He was wearing a sword, and I didn't see it?

'Hajimemashite, Kamiya-sensei.'

"Eep!"

Steel clanged to the floor, and Kenshin winced. "Onegai, Kaoru-dono..."

"Headache?" Kaoru asked numbly, seeing the way pale fingers kneaded his forehead. I dropped a sword. Sensei would have my head.

"One you would not believe, that you would not," Kenshin muttered. "I only hope we lost the pack at our apartment, that I do. If I only knew who laid the trail for them there..."

"Pack? Lost?" Gingerly, Kaoru scooped up the saya. "What's going on?"

'That, as you Americans say, is a long story.'

She was a master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. She was not going to shriek. She was not going to fling steel from her like a venomous snake. No matter how much she wanted to. "Kenshin," Kaoru said carefully, "Your sword talks."

"He's not my sword," Kenshin corrected, shaking his head. "I'm only holding him for a time, that I am."

"It's possessed?" Icepack in hand, Yahiko dashed over with a wide grin. "Wicked!"

"Not possessed. He said he's not a ghost-" Kenshin yawned suddenly. "Sword-spirit. Steel given life long ago... forgive, I'm tired, that I am..."

'We burned up more energy in a few minutes than you usually do in a whole day. And I'm still working on the crack in your ankle.' The voice in Kaoru's mind was cool and inhuman, gentle as a running rill of snowmelt. 'Sleep. You need it.'

From the way Kenshin drooped against the cushions, Kaoru could tell he was minutes away from doing just that. Still, violet eyes struggled back open. "But - Tani's people-"

'I've tapped into your ki sense now. There's no danger in this building.'

"Sorcerer," Kenshin muttered, eyelids dropping shut.

'You can sense him, hmm?' Cool pride washed through her. 'It's all right. Feel that warmth to him, like a handful of milkweed fluff? None of Tani's people were that human. He won't be coming for you. Or Yahiko.'

"Trust you..."

'I know.'

Biting her lip, Kaoru taped Yahiko's icepack over the bandage, then covered the limp man with one of her winter sleeping bags. "Did he get hit on the head?"

A silent, grim laugh. 'None of them were that good.'

"Them?"

"You're talking to him? How come I can't hear him?" Yahiko demanded, scowling.

Kaoru gave him a look. Grabbed his hand, and placed it on the saya.

'Exactly.'

Yahiko jumped, then grinned. And stopped grinning. "But - Kaoru was holding you, and Kenshin still-"

'Kenshin... used me, and allowed me to use him, under great stress. He doesn't need to touch me.'

"Used you?" Kaoru asked guardedly. Trying to stifle the sudden, awful suspicion gnawing at her gut. This is Kenshin. Kenshin. He hates violence. He wouldn't even have started bringing Yahiko to my class if he wasn't desperate. He couldn't have - not a sword, he just couldn't have-

'Aa, he did. I've been easing him through the shock so much as I can, but his soul still bleeds.' A soundless sigh, like a breeze through winter dawn. 'Do you have a cleaning kit?'


One day, Battousai, Sanosuke thought darkly, stepping through the wreck of the Himura apartment under the watchful eyes of New York's finest, fists clenching as if they wanted to strangle a certain piece of enchanted steel. You can't stay out of trouble for one lousy day...

"I tell you, I knew those boys were headed for trouble from the first day I saw them!" the neighborly Mr. Grimes was announcing to a few uniforms out in the hall. "Of course, the parents tried; Mrs. Himura may have had some old-fashioned habits, but I'm sure she meant well. But once they were gone - hmph! Young man on his own, trying to raise that hellion of a teenager; and his half-brother at that! Of course you want to believe the best of people, of course you do. But it was only a matter of time."

Sano tuned out the old busybody, picking his way through the wreckage toward the balcony. There was something here. Like the squeak of a bat; something just at the edge of his senses, that he couldn't quite grasp.

Center, Sanosuke recalled, thinking of a ghostly smile, the red headband of the Sekihoutai blowing in an unfelt wind. Ground yourself. The heart of your ki and the heart of the earth are one.

Lessons of a lost age, passed on by a phantom samurai years ago. Sagara Souzou had died at the hands of his superiors, but his ghost had clung to earth in the hope of seeing his dream fulfilled. A time when there would be no above or below, when all people might find justice under the law. A time he'd worked toward for over a century, taking a New York street urchin under his wing along the way.

Now open your eyes, and see.

A faint glow clung to the apartment walls, more felt than seen, echoes of years of occupants' hopes and fears. A stronger track of light traced through the air; Battousai's mark. And more light glimmered from the balcony, wrapped in a taste of concrete and feathers.

An Elemental was here, Sano realized. Not a major one. Probably just looks after this block. But it was here. Battousai would have seen it.

No need to ask why an Elemental had decided to manifest. They weren't human, they might not personally like humans, but they did try to minimize damage to their domain. Humans included.

Don't know if Tani's men knew they were up against Battousai, but they had to know they might draw an Elemental. Looks like they meant to take this whole floor out.

Which would have left the Elemental in a bit of a quandary. Elementals had limits just like any other Kin. They didn't usually get involved unless more than a dozen people were about to die at once. On a Saturday morning, this floor probably wouldn't have qualified.

Then Tani's guys would just let the rest burn.

Again, not something the Elemental could act directly against, not without expending a great deal of energy. Though it could make sure phone lines in its domain carried 911 calls through at a critical moment, and could nudge a light from green to red to let a fire-truck hit an intersection just right...

Or could just show itself, near the one person in this building who'd know what that meant, Sano thought.

As things stood, the entrance hall had channeled most of the blast straight in and straight out, half the explosion catching the pair of werewolves who'd set the charge like a close-range shotgun. The other half, well...

No way is Himura getting back his security deposit after this.

Resigned, Sanosuke let the glimpse of auras fade, and turned toward the neatly-labeled evidence bags the cops had thoughtfully left up here. Not that he thought that was all the evidence, oh no. Not with these two on the case. Major Case. It just had to be the Major Case Squad.

Bloody shirt from the bathroom wastebasket, blood well dried; probably a leftover from last night. Remnants of stained bandages, likewise. Shrapnel with relatively fresh blood, pulled from walls and doorway. Bits of oily, soot-stained bottle glass. Slashed bedroom door... he winced, and knew they caught it. Damn.

Okay. Think. We've got evidence of homicide and attempted homicide here. Do we have evidence of Kin?

Two shrapnel-studded bodies, one broken neck, one fall-splattered corpse. All in human form. The rest of the Kin - and he knew there had to have been more, no way could just four guys have driven Battousai to this level of violence - must have dragged themselves out of here after their firebombs set the roof ablaze.

Okay. Medical examiner won't find anything on the autopsies. I'll just have to put a call in so our people make sure those guys stay "dead" until the reports are filed. We've already got one accidental werewolf on the ME's night shift. I'd hate to see more.

Sano sighed. "Look. I know what this looks like..."

"Really? Oh, that's good. Because, I'm completely at a loss here," Detective Bobby Goren offered, smiling in a pleasant, distracted way that put most criminals and no few Target Alpha agents who should have known better off their guard. "Not that I haven't seen things like this before..."

"No, not at all," Detective Alexandrea Eames muttered under her breath.

"It just seems a little - strange, for this to happen to an antiques dealer." Goren's head tilted to the side, left hand spread as if offering the question.

Why me. Why me? Sanosuke resisted the urge to pick up a stray chair and break it into kindling. "This has got to stay as quiet as you can keep it."

Eames and Goren traded a glance. "Sure," Eames said easily.

Lying through your teeth, Sano thought wryly. But hey, we do what have to do. "You may have heard about a shoot-out down in Chinatown last night. Jusanro Tani's place?"

"There have been a few rumors," Goren shrugged. "Some of them are pretty wild."

"Not half as wild as the truth." Which you're going to get. Edited. "Tani got a death threat from a guy by the name of Kurogasa. An assassin my agency's been after a long time." Long, long, long long long... never mind. "Long story short, we were there, Tani's bodyguards and pet attack dogs were there, Kurogasa was there..." Sano waved his hand to indicate the apartment. "And, unbeknownst to us 'cause it slipped Tani's mind, the bastard, we also had one antique and reproductions dealer on the premises, delivering an old book. Far as I can trace his movements, Mr. Himura was let in by Tani's staff, signed over the book, got his check - and promptly got caught in the crossfire when Kurogasa popped up and started slicing throats."

Yep. They're taking notes. Stick to the cover story but good, Sagara.

"The bullets missed him. One of the guard dogs didn't," Sano said bluntly. "Lucky for Himura, Tani collects all kinds of weird antiques. Himura managed to get his hands on an old katana, and that was the end of C Spot."

"Katana?" Eames asked.

"A Japanese sword," her partner put in, watching Sano out of the corner of his eye. "They're very valuable art pieces. And... well, obviously good for other things too."

"Hmm. And how did Mr. Tani like seeing one of his art pieces covered in blood?" Eames aimed her gaze Sano's way.

"Evidently, he didn't," Sano said dryly. "I recognized at least two of those guys from last night." Squirm, Tani. Squirm. I have to cover the fact that you're Kin. Nothing says I can't make your life a mundane hell. "Thing is, I would have thought he was more worried about the agent who got shot dead on his rug." Now Sano did let himself wince. "That's... why it took us a while to figure out we were short a body, and where it was."

Eames and Goren traded a flat glance, a mild arch of brows. Eames turned her full attention back to Sanosuke. "We're going to need names and addresses on these employees of Mr. Tani."

"Not that we want to interfere in your investigation, of course," Goren put in diffidently.

Like hell. "Not a problem," Sano said easily. We're chasing Kurogasa. You can have Tani. "We'll get that info to your office soon as I get done in here."

"That reminds me..." Goren wagged a thoughtful finger. "I was just wondering... why you were so sure Mr. Himura was here. You hadn't even seen the bandages before we let you on the scene, and according to Mr. Baruvi - that's the doorman, right, Mr. Baruvi? - well, he says Kenshin Himura never came home last night."

"Not through the front door." Sano jerked a thumb toward the balcony, with its relatively easy access to the fire escape. Headed out of what was left of the apartment doorway, and nodded toward the stairwell. "And it was the guy on the stairs who told me."

"And just how did Mr.-" Eames looked at her notes, "Marcus Weston do that? Given that he was deceased at the time."

Sano crouched, studying the spattered and burned carpet. "I've seen some of these guys' work in Chinatown. And other places." He touched the soot, lifting a finger near his nose to get a better scent. "They were probably here a few minutes. Long enough for a guy with a case of serious nerves from last night to hear something. Himura goes for his brother, but the kid's locked the door... he must have panicked."

"And that's why you think he went out his front door, instead of back down the fire escape," Goren said easily. "Panic?"

"Probably." Not. Balcony in broad daylight, when he's got civilians to look after and he knows the other guys might be waiting with guns? Battousai's got more sense than that.

But civilians usually didn't. Which meant one of two things; either Battousai had more control over Himura than records said he had over Ward after a week of bonding, or Himura was holding it together well enough to actually listen to the enchanted blade.

I'm hoping it's listen, Sano thought darkly, walking slowly down the hall. "Himura bolts through here, gets lucky with the pipe bomb, sets off the fire alarm-"

"In a panic," Eames said levelly, following behind her partner.

"-Sees the bad guys at the elevator, and heads for the stairs," Sano went on, ignoring the bait. "Mr. Weston and his buddies follow and start shooting - and that's when they find out the hard way that Himura actually knows some kendo." And when I meet your little brother, Himura, I swear I'm going to treat that kid to an all-you-can-eat sundae. Kendo gear on the premises turned this web of half-truths from improbable to actually semi-plausible. Kami be thanked. Eames and Goren were sharp.

"And while he's using this little bit of kendo, this five-foot-two antique dealer somehow pushes Mr. Weston's companion, John Doe number Three, who's at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than he is, over the railing," Goren noted. "Wow. That's some panic."

Battousai in a bad mood, Sano thought, heading up the cordoned-off stairs. We're lucky he was being subtle.

He couldn't imagine what Himura must be feeling right now. Dropped from normal life into the middle of the Kin's midnight wars. Knowing his own hands had killed, and he'd let someone else use them to do it.

Look after him, Battousai. We owe him one.

Several exhausting flights later, they were at the charred ruins of the roof door. Sano nodded toward the soot-streaked steel chain. The cut link still gleamed through the oily stains left by exploding Molotovs. "I'd need to check it under a scope, but I'm betting your lab will find that was done with one slash."

"This was done with a katana?" Eames' chestnut brows bounced up in real surprise. "Remind me to get my hands on one of those the next time I want to key a car."

"So he runs up here, with the little brother," Goren picked up the thread. "There's another struggle, the incendiaries go off... but there are no bodies." He shot a look at Sano, eyes hard behind the sleepy innocence. "You think Himura's still alive."

"Confusion like this, I doubt they'd carry off a dead body," Sanosuke said frankly. "Not their style."

"So, if he got away - and for some reason, you seem to think he did get away - he must have gone-" Goren pointed over, and down, "-that way."

"That would be my guess," Sano nodded.

"That's interesting." Goren stepped back into the stairwell, ready to stroll back downstairs. "Because, you know, Mr. Grimes said Mr. Himura's afraid of heights. The whole building apparently knows that. But of course, you wouldn't know that. Because you've never met him."

And on that note of indignity... Pasting a wry smile on his face, Sanosuke watched the detectives climb down out of sight. Cradled his head in his hands, and resisted the urge to pound his head against the wall rimming the roof. It'd feel so good when he stopped.

"Afraid of heights," Sano groaned into his palms. "Damn it, 'Sai, you had to grab someone who's afraid of heights?"


Kami - "spirits".
Ryuu-sama - "Lord dragon".
Tama-hagane - a high-quality steel for swords.
Shishou - master; used in old sword-styles.
Baka deshi - "idiot student".
Aa - informal yes.
Maa, maa - "now, now", calm down.

Iie - no.
Ryuu Kan Sen Arashi - Dragon Wrap Sword Storm.
Ryuu Sho Sen - Rising Dragon Flash.
Ryuu Tsui Sen - Dragon Hammer Flash.
Ohayo - Good morning.
Hajimemashite - Pleased to meet you for the first time.
Onegai - please.