A/N: Wow, free hits counter for everyone. I have seen FF denigrated here and there, but it's sure some job they've been doing those past weeks. Now, if only they could fix QuickEdit…

reader-kikilala: He introduced himself as Shinta, but he obviously refers to himself as Kenshin in private. Thus I'm using "Kenshin" when using his POV.

The first droplets fell gently, washing off the smell of blood. Drops trickled off the tip of his sword, diluted red staining the earthen path with audible drips. The wind wailed fiercer, flapping his kimono against his chest. A flash rolled by, lightening the darkened sky.

They stood face to face, gauging each other. No emotion emanated from the smiling boy, at least none that Kenshin could discern. Disturbing. It was the first time he met such an opponent.

"Shall we get started?" The boy called, good-humored. "I want to go back as soon as possible."

Kenshin frowned. "Go back? So you were waiting for us."

The boy covered his mouth with the palm of his hand. "Oops, I said too much." He laughed. "Oh well. It won't matter, if I kill you here."

Kenshin didn't reply. He sheathed his katana. The boy observed him with some surprise. So, Kenshin thought, he wasn't devoid of emotions after all, he just hid them well. He settled into the battou-jutsu stance.

"Oh, very clever," the boy commented. "But I am quite skilled with this technique too, you know." He moved into the battou-jutsu as well. For a moment they remained immobile, their gazes fixed into each other, measuring their respective strength.

It happened in the blink of an eye. They drew at the same time, flying towards and then past each other. Their blades clashed. The wind quieted down.

The boy was fast, and skilled, he had to give him that. They were, Kenshin realized, quite evenly matched. He turned.

The boy was examining his blade. A tiny crack was visible on it. Kenshin took a look at his own blade. It was as smooth and sharp as it had always been. Unsurprising. His was master Suishinshi's greatest chef-d'oeuvre, after all. What was more surprising was that the boy's sword had withstood the impact so well.

"You," Kenshin stated quietly, "are no simple swordsman. And your sword," he continued, glancing at the crack, "is no ordinary one."

"Oh, this? It's my treasured Kiku Ichimonji no Norimune. I can't believe you cracked it."

Definitely no ordinary swordsman. "You can be thankful for it. A lesser blade, and your head would have flown." Kenshin edged forward. "Desist now. I have no wish to kill you."

"It seems I underestimated you somewhat," the boy smiled. "But don't worry about me. I'm all right. I'll just fight you more seriously."

Kenshin screwed up his lids. "Come, then."

He came. One moment the boy was on Kenshin's left, but Kenshin caught only the rain when he thrust. The boy was already on his right. Fast.

"I've got you," a voice said in his ear.

Too late to parry. Kenshin writhed his body. The blade grazed his shoulder. He jumped into the air. The boy was on him faster than he would have believed it possible. Kenshin cut horizontally. Their blades collided again. The strength of the shock sent them both reeling.

Fast. Faster than any opponent Kenshin'd faced yet, even his brother. Even his father. "Shukuchi," he murmured. He felt a slight burning in his shoulder.

"Oh, you know the name?" The boy was still smiling, his weapon resting over his shoulder. "You are truly a great samurai." His expression suddenly became more serious, more feral. "But I can do better. To be exact, that was two steps from the real shukuchi. But it's strange." A slight frown appeared on the boy's brow. "I was sure I had you there."

A flicker of unease. Kenshin felt it. The boy was unsettled. Good. It would make him easier to read. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Me? I am Seta Soujiro."

"Seta Soujiro," repeated Kenshin. He readied his katana. "Very well. I shall remember that name." The rain was falling harder. "Let's see what your shukuchi can do."

"One step before the shukuchi," declared Soujiro. He sprung forwards.

It was as if a bullet was charging towards him, Kenshin thought. Something breezed by. Soujiro was already behind him, he realized. A vertical swipe came down behind him. He jumped sideways, and held his sword horizontally. The strength of the blow sent him landing amongst the trees, his feet digging heavily into the drenched soil. He leaned against a trunk, the bark rough through his soaked kimono.

Where would be the attack come from? Left or right? A sound overhead. He leapt forward, just in time avoid a blow coming from above. He looked upwards. Soujiro was bouncing between the ground and trees, sandals slamming loudly on the trunks. An omni-directional attack. Clever. And dangerous.

But time was playing in his favor. He had detected a certain arrogance in the boy's tone. By his experience, arrogance turned to frustration when the opponent showed unexpected resistance. A diagonal cut from the left. Kenshin blocked it, and tried to hit with the sheath in his other hand. But the boy was already gone.

"Not bad," Soujiro's voice echoed around him. A direct thrust coming from the air, on his left. Kenshin slashed, knocking the blade aside. "But how long will you able to resist like this?" A diagonal slash behind him. He avoided this one at the last moment, throwing himself violently on the right. His shoulder rasped against the bark of a large tree, his injured one. He winced. A flash of lightning.

There. It was nothing more than a faint flicker of annoyance, but he was waiting for it. Soujiro was dashing straight at him. He crouched. Soujiro's blade razed over his head, so close that it must have shaved off some hairs. He caught Soujiro's surprise. Now. He sprang forwards, his blade sweeping upwards.

It drew blood.

Soujiro bounced back fifty feet. He was, Kenshin saw, clutching his left shoulder. Interesting. The blow had been aimed at Soujiro's throat and chin. Kenshin had meant it to be a killing blow, one he didn't think could be dodged, yet somehow the boy had managed to avoid a fatal injury by swerving at the last second.

Despite the distance separating them, Kenshin could still hear Soujiro labored breaths. He felt the boy's confusion and anger flow forth, unrestrained now. He was becoming readable. And so he was, Kenshin thought, as good as dead.

"It seems I still underestimated you," mumbled Soujiro. Water streamed down his face. "I will fight with all my strength now." He took the battou-jutsu stance.

Kenshin relaxed his posture. "One question before that," he called. "Were you here to wait for me?"

"You?" Fascinating, how the boy's expression could switch from deadly to angelical seemingly at will. "Hmm, who are you?"

Kenshin's mood darkened. "So, it was for the lady Kamiya Kaoru."

Soujiro fell back into the battou-jutsu stance once again. "You said one question. You will have to defeat me, if you want more answers."

"Then I will make sure you can still speak after this." Kenshin sheathed his weapon. The rain showered through his clothes, soaking his skin. "Come."

The boy vanished. It was so fast his eyes couldn't see him anymore. Yet Kenshin was prepared for that, and he had an idea of what was to come. A straight rush, combined with the speed of the battou-jutsu. And, if even he couldn't see him anymore, he could still see and hear the water splashing from his steps on the ground. A chance, those fifty feet. Kenshin rushed forward.

The thunder boomed. Swords clashed.

The oncoming assault's power was incredible, but people didn't call him Battousai for nothing. He took the blunt of the onslaught with his blade, but still he was pushed backwards. He grounded his left foot, and swung the sheath at Soujiro. The blow sent the boy sprawling on the ground.

He lifted his katana overhead. Soujiro looked up at him. There was, Kenshin saw, consternation on the boy's face now. Soujiro raised his sword, trying to protect himself. Kenshin slashed downwards.

A broken blade spun off. It buried itself into the soil.

They'd run off, of course. The opportunity had presented itself, when she saw the two opponents sink deeper amongst the trees. It was, she thought, a gift from the heaven. She wasn't going to let it slip by.

Now they were galloping under the downpour, their horses' hooves' beat replaced by the sound of sprayed water. The wind wheezed by, spurting countless drops into her eyes, gluing her drenched kimono against her wet skin. She must have been, Kaoru decided, an indecent sight to behold right now.

But decency be damned. Oh, how she longed to come upon a refuge that would shelter her from this godforsaken rain. She would have traded all her riches for a dry roof over her head right now. How could the weather be so unsympathetic to her plight? It was a mystery indeed.

Three hours. In three hours they would be in the imperial city. Three small hours. Three long hours, to spend in the storm. Couldn't it have waited for her to arrive before opening the floodgates? Of course not. It seemed it was determined to be contrary. How unattractive.

So she rode. And all she could see in her mind was the gleam of his eyes.

Those topaz irises had sent shivers down her spine. And those shivers hadn't been ones of pleasure. Oh no. Amber, like a wolf's eyes. Ruthless, and cruel. There was no trace of the boy who liked stars and horses. For the first time in her life she'd felt the urge to escape as far as she could. And she had done so.

But maybe that was an ungraceful thing to do? The more she thought about it, the more she regretted her hasty decision. Shinta may have been a clingy, burdensome, rude and unpleasant companion, he had nevertheless saved them twice now. Was she so ungrateful, to reward his protection by running from him? Of course not. This was not how she had been taught, not how she had been bred. What would her mother have said of her behavior? She would have gently but firmly scolded Kaoru, made sure that Kaoru understood it wasn't the proper thing to do.

Kaoru decreased her mare's pace. Her mind told her to flee as fast as possible. Her body screamed at her to find shelter as soon as possible.

She reined her horse in.

Megumi stopped her mount a hundred feet farther. She trotted back, glancing at Kaoru, puzzled.

"Let's go back," said Kaoru.

"My lady, I thought you wanted to run from him?"

"Run?" Kaoru looked at her maid, her eyebrows raised. "Kamiya Kaoru runs from no one. I just wanted to get rid of a burden."

Her maid arched her eyebrows as well. "And is it not the perfect opportunity to do so now, my lady?"

"I changed my mind," she declared, haughtily.

"But, my lady, it's raining so hard. We should hurry to—"

"We are already soaked through," Kaoru remarked. She raised her hand as her maid was about to voice another objection. "I've made up my mind, Megumi."

Her maid stared at her, then nodded. "Very well, my lady."

And so it came that they went back whence they came. For half an hour they rode at a slow canter. Kaoru thought that they might meet him on the way. After all, didn't he say that he was going to Kyoto too? He would have continued by foot when he realized that they weren't there anymore. Kaoru couldn't picture his expression at discovering their desertion. Would he be angry? Disappointed? Would he still have this expressionless mask of his? Would he care at all?

Megumi gave voice to her fears. "He might not come at all," her maid said soberly.

"What are you saying, Megumi?" Kaoru remained impassible in appearance, even if her heart jolted in her chest. "He may be an ill-mannered oaf, he is invincible sword in hand. We have seen proof of that."

"But his opponent didn't seem to be an ordinary one," Megumi remarked. "He himself seemed uncertain."

"He won't lose," she announced. That quieted her maid.

For ten minutes they rode in silence. Apprehension rose in Kaoru's chest. Silly girl, she thought. Why should she be worried? But she couldn't shake it off. He'd seemed so lethal that she couldn't imagine him ever being defeated. Yet who knew? The world was vast, and there were plenty of skilled swordsmen. What if the rain made his steps uncertain? He could have slipped off at a crucial moment. What if his opponent landed a lucky blow? Those happened, from time to time. A master could be beaten by an amateur this way, it wasn't unheard of. What if….

He emerged from the trees. Red hair dulled dark, ample clothes embracing his small frame. His irises were a bright lavender.

Her heart ran wild. Why did he have to take so long? Stupid boy, to have her so worried. He must have done it on purpose. Inexcusable. Unforgivable.

He halted, rivulets streaming down his visage. They stared at each other in a silence only disrupted by the rain's sizzle. Kaoru was aware of the sight she must have presented, kimono tightly sticking to her skin, outlining her silhouette, exposing the curve of her breasts. And the cloth must have been as good as transparent, judging by his. Yet, oddly, with this self-consciousness came no sense of shame.

"You took long enough," she said finally, her tone condescending.

For the second time that day, a smile flowered on his face.

Notes: I decided against giving Soujiro a dramatic past, so let's pretend he's just a stealthy guy. Also, their fight is molded on the original story, since I couldn't think of an original scenario. I know that Kenshin won more easily than in the manga/anime, but it's implied than the younger and ruthless Kenshin is stronger than the Ruroni, so…. (And yeah, Kenshin's been using his sheath quite a lot.)