A/N: short chapter, but I felt the scene should stand by itself. I realize that I hyped expectations with the last chapter, but people, this is romance, not melodrama….

The word lingered in the air long after she voiced it. Murderer.

He gazed at her, pale, and very wide-eyed. What was he going to do? Deny? Finish what he couldn't do ten years ago, and silence her forever? She couldn't think straight. Maybe she should flee. Maybe. She didn't care anymore. Her mother, the tip of the blade protruding from her chest. Her mother's face, frozen in horror. Her mother's scent, soiled by the stench of blood….

Strength left her body. She slumped down.

"Kaoru," Megumi said. "Don't exert yourself. You are not yet recovered."

How could her maid be so calm? Didn't she realize that a cold-blooded killer sat in the same room as them? Where was her katana?

With what shred of energy she still possessed she clutched Megumi's sleeve. "He killed mother," she said. "He killed her. Don't you see—"

Her maid hushed her. "You shouldn't be so agitated," Megumi said, wiping her brow. "You need to rest."

Kaoru gripped her maid's arm. "You were there, Megumi. Why don't you recognize him?"

"What are you talking about, Kaoru?"

Kaoru tried to move, but the effort was beyond her. She could just turn her head. What was he doing? He should be cutting her in half already. No, he was still where he was earlier. He seemed surprised, almost shocked. That she recognized him?

"Megumi," she whispered, "It's him. Don't you remember? He killed mother, he killed…." A sob interrupted her. Her own. Tears were flowing down her cheek, she noticed suddenly. Why? Why? She had to be strong. She didn't want to weep, to be weak. She didn't want to relive the pain again. Her katana, she needed it. Where was it? She couldn't see it anywhere.

He approached. Her heart jolted. Flee, she told herself. Flee! She tried to move, and found that she couldn't move. Her strength had deserted her. She cursed the heavens for being born a woman. How often had she wished to be a man, so that she could stand for herself. So that she could bestow justice herself, avenge her mother. This frustration, this feeling of being utterly powerless. She'd experienced them before. Oh yes, she had.

His shadow fell on her. She gritted her teeth.

She saw him kneel beside her. She felt his hand on her shoulder. She jerked back. She snarled. "Don't touch me. Don't ever lay your filthy hands on me."

His hand recoiled, suspended in the air for a moment. Then it fell back to his side. He looked dismayed, she saw. Almost hurt. She wondered why.

"Why did you kill mother?" she cried. "Why?"

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but no sound came forth.

"Get a hold of yourself, Kaoru," Megumi said. "It was Hiko of Ise who killed your mother. Sir Shinta couldn't have been older than ten at time."

Kaoru sat up again with difficulty. She looked at Megumi, uncomprehending. "How, how…."

"It was a nightmare, my l… Kaoru. You ate some poisonous mushrooms, and fell sick. Come now, you must rest. You aren't fully recovered yet."

Kaoru gripped her maid's kimono with both her hands, frantic. "Megumi, how can you be so calm? It was him! You were there with me, you must have seen. Why don't you recognize him? He's going to kill all of us, and—"

Megumi slapped her face. Kaoru stared, unbelieving.

"Get a grip, Kaoru," Megumi said. Her face, Kaoru noted, was set in a firm and severe expression. She didn't remember ever seeing Megumi looking at her in such a manner. "Neither of us was there when your mother died," Megumi chided "It was all a bad dream."

"Samurai-san isn't a bad person," a new voice said. A young man, smiling. "See, he didn't kill me. He can't be bad, right?" Who was he?

She stared at the red-haired samurai. Shinta, Megumi had called him. He looked at her, unwavering. He looked calm yet somehow pained. It was as if he was chagrined by what she had said. The image of his amber eyes glowing at her faded in her mind. His irises were so violet, so deep. His face so innocent. His gaze was almost unbearable.

"Why," she cried. She punched his chest. He didn't budge the slightest, letting her. "Why." Old memories, bringing so much grief. Grief, and memories of grief past. So much pain, emotions she'd locked deep in her all those years, now coming forth unbidden. She felt submerged. "Why, why…."

A pair of strong arms encircled her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. "Shh," he murmured, his voice so gentle, so soothing. "Cry, it will make you better. It's all right to cry."

Tears poured unrestrained. She sobbed uncontrollably in his embrace. Dimly, she felt him stroking her hair. "It's all right," he whispered. "It's all right. Let yourself grieve all you want."

For a long time she cried, lost to the world around her. There was only her sorrow. Her head lay buried in his chest. His hand soothed her.

Then she fell asleep. Faintly she felt hands putting her back into warm blankets.

She dreamed again, of him. They lay in lush green field, sakura petals raining down on them, palest pink. His arms hugged her waist, and her head rested in the crook of his neck. Shefelt aserenity and plenitude she'd never experienced before. She wished she could stay like this forever.

When she awoke, he was gone.