A/N: Where's the romance, you ask? Well, here are some longish inner monologues that are de rigueur in any contemporary romance.

It must have been morning, for the light filtered brightly through the windows, the sun shining merrily in a turquoise sky. Birds twirped, their airy songs reaching her ears. The hearth's fire had died down, Kaoru saw, leaving only cold charcoal ashes in its wake. All was quiet.

An even breathing caught her attention. She turned her head. Megumi slept at her bedside, on the naked wooden floor. She looked extenuated, her hair spilled around her, her head resting on a makeshift pillow. Her maid still wore all her clothes. She must have looked after her mistress and patient all night long, Kaoru thought with a pang of guilt.

It wasn't the first time either. After her mother's death, Kaoru had had nightmares each time she went to sleep. Sometimes she would dream her mother killed before her very eyes, and would wake weeping. Sometimes she would see her mother simply walking away from her, and she would run after her, run and run and run, and never catch up; she would awake calling her mother's name. Each and every night the nightmares would come, till Kaoru dared sleep no more. She would lie in her futon, cold blankets wrapped around her, and she would try what she could to stay awake, fighting ever harder against fatigues and her treacherous lids. It was a lost battle, of course, and she always succumbed, yet still she fought the following day, and again and again.

She didn't say any word about it to anyone, but Megumi noticed. Megumi noticed a lot of things about her. Maybe it was her tired eyes, where black bags must surely have been visible. Maybe it was her lack of energy, or her irascible mood. That evening her maid came to her bedside, and sang for her. They were songs that told of grief and loss, she remembered well. They were sad, and her chest tightened hearing them, recalling all too vividly her own grief. Yet those song also carried with them the hope of a brighter tomorrow. And, after a long time, Kaoru slowly drifted to sleep, cradled in Megumi's soft voice. It was the first night in weeks she'd had a dreamless rest. Her maid came the evening after, and the evening after that, till nightmares would no longer haunt her sleep. She'd often thought that those nights must have bonded them deeply, she and her maid. Something undefinable, that went beyond friendship, of which neither of them ever spoke of, but she was certain Megumi would be as much as aware of it as her. Some things were above imperfect words.

She didn't dream of her mother again since then. Not until the night before. That particular dream was still on her mind, even if it had lost of its vividness. She looked around.

It was then that she noticed that Shinta was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the boy that followed them after trying to attack them. Soujiro was the name, she recalled. She wondered where they were. Maybe they were in the stables, tending to their horses? Shinta seemed to like horses. Or maybe they were in the kitchen, preparing a delicious meal? Her stomach groaned in hunger. Yes, she could definitely do with a meal right now.

She pulled the blankets off her, rising on her feet. The air wasn't overly cold, she decided. Her movements were still awkward, her balance unsure. Her head was spinning, and she had to take support against the wall until the dizzyness passed. Her strength wasn't back yet, but it would soon, she thought, with robust food ingurgitated in her belly. And soon she would be able to hit the road again, and set for Kyoto. She had only delayed too long. She couldn't wait any longer

She didn't know how she would face Shinta yet. How should she behave? Proudly, of course, she decided. She was a lady after all, and he but a samurai of no great quality. But it was vital to clear all the misunderstandings that may have arisen between them. She'd made provocative overtures to him earlier, after all, and he may think her a decadent woman after that. Blood rushed to her cheeks when she remembered how her fingers had grazed his silken skin, outlining his hard muscles. How the mere touch of him had sent shivers snaking down her back, bells tingling in her mind, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. And then, their lips had brushed against each other, so softly that it'd felt like a kiss of paradise. Her cheeks grew hotter at the mere thought of it.

Yes, it was vital that she put him back in his place. She couldn't allow such a thing to happen again. She would clear up the situation with him, lest he grew bold with her and became impudent. She admitted to herself that the fault lay entirely with her. Well, mostly. Fairness was one of her trait, after all. Thus she wouldn't accuse him of anything at all. She would simply tell him that she hadn't been her normal self, and that he shouldn't expect such a situation to come to pass again. That was, of course, absolutely out of question. They would simply continue to behave politely towards each other, and she would be perfectly fine with it. He should not, in any case, expect anything different. Nothing was changed. Nothing.

Nothing? She'd called him a murderer. That changed things. She would be honest with him and tell him that it was just a bad dream. Of course it was just a dream. She wasn't there when assassins killed her mother. What would she know anyway? Well, she knew that it was impossible Shinta could have been one of the killers. Of course it was impossible. He would have been too young back then. It was all a nightmare. Blame the fever. He would understand. He had to.

And did he not take advantage of her weakness? Pulling her into his arms like a vulgar girl, cradling her like a lost child, letting her cry against his chest for who knew how long. He had seen her at her most vulnerable, and that, she decided, was a most unforgivable sin. Yet she would forgive it with good grace. It would be ungrateful and childish to not do so. And it would make them even, forgiving for forgiving.

There. She felt much better now that she reached this conclusion. It was simple really. Foolish of her to even feel awkward about it. Logic was a most efficient tool, she thought, when she condescended to use it at all. Her steps more resolute now, she entered the kitchen. It was empty.

Were they outside? In the stables? Probably. For a moment the thought of waiting for them inside skimmed in her mind. It was tempting; she didn't really want to brave the cold. But it was better to face him now, while her determination was still firm and fresh. She went back to the bedroom, taking great care to make the less noise possible, to not wake Megumi. The poor woman needed her sleep. She took her blankets, enwrapped them tightly around her, and went out.

It was cold, just as she predicted. The day was relatively windless, and the cloudless sky was beautiful to gaze at. There was frost on the ground when they first came there the day before, but now it was gone. The rice field was still wet in some places, and the graveled path damp under her sandals, covered in the morning dew. The air smelled of pine and of black wood. She walked into stables.

No one there. No Shinta, and no Soujiro. And, if the two mares they brought with them from Izushi were still there, the two horses Soujiro'd taken with him were not. She frowned.

A voice rang in the farmhouse. "My lady! My lady!"

Megumi was awake, it seemed. She would be worried not finding her in her bed, no doubt. She walked back towards the house's main entrance. Walked, because she was still too weak to move faster. The door slid open, revealing a breathless Megumi.

"You shouldn't be outside, my lady," her maid said, relieved. "What are you doing here?"

"I was searching for Shinta," she answered casually. She stepped inside the house. "Do you know where he is?"

"Oh." Her maid subdued, sliding the door shut. The reasons why Kaoru would seek the young samurai were obvious. "I think he is gone."

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"He went to Kyoto, or so he said," her maid answered, walking beside her, supporting her. Good old Megumi, always so thoughtful of her well-being.

"Why didn't he wait for us?"

"He said he had pressing matters to attend to."

An unpleasant sensation was settling in. "But he will be back soon, yes?"

A hesitant look crossed her maid's face. "I'm… I'm not certain, my lady. He sounded as if it was a definite parting when he said goodbye to me."

"Damn the insufferable runt," she fumed. "How can he ditch a lady in my condition? He is supposed to keep watch over me until I am fully recovered. Has he no sense of convenience at all?"

Was that a chuckle? A strange sound rose from her maid's throat, soon covered by a cough. Megumi was masking her mouth with her hands, she noted. She screwed her eyes up. That was definitely a chuckle.

"He was very worried about you, my lady," her maid said. "He stayed as long as he could, I'm certain, and left only when he was assured you weren't in danger anymore."

"Danger?"

"The mushrooms you ate could have been lethal to you," Megumi said softly.

"Oh." That quieted her.

"He watched over you all night, my lady," Megumi revealed. "He wouldn't sleep, even when I insisted he did. He urged me to get some rest instead. Said that I needed it more than him. Isn't he adorable?"

She didn't answer that. Adorable? Was her maid blind? She pondered for a moment. "And where's Soujiro?"

"Sir Shinta took Soujiro with him. He said he couldn't trust him with us." Her maid paused for a small moment. "But in any case, my lady," she continued, a mischievous tone entering her voice, "aren't you glad he's gone? We were trying so hard to get rid of him. And he left on his own. This way no one could accuse you of ungratefulness."

"Yes. Yes, of course," she said. Her voice sounded distant and half-hearted, even to her.

"Could it be that you wanted to apologize to him that, my lady?"

She stopped in her tracks. "Apologize? Why should I apologize to him? A lady doesn't need to justify herself to a simple samurai of no quality."

"Why were you searching him then, my lady? It wasn't wise to get in the cold in your state."

Wouldn't her maid keep quiet for once? Megumi's babbling was getting on her nerves. "I just wanted to make things clear between us," Kaoru replied. "Otherwise he might be getting unruly ideas. There was need to clarify the situation. Surely you can understand that," she snapped.

"Yes, my lady," Megumi said mildly.

She stopped, turned to her maid. "By the way, Megumi," she said, trying to sound as stern as she could be, "I distinctly remember you hitting me yesterday."

Megumi had at least the good grace to blush. "I am very sorry, my lady," she said meekly.

Kaoru wasn't fooled. She knew Megumi well enough. She caught the impish gleam that flashed through her maid's eyes. "You aren't sorry, you fox."

"I am, I assure you, my lady."

"How long have we known each other, Megumi? You aren't fooling anyone, fox."

Megumi grinned sheepishly. "Why are you calling me a fox, my lady?"

"Because fox ears are sprouting out of your head."

Her maid stared at her, wide eyed. "Please stop making fun of me, my lady," she exclaimed.

Kaoru laughed good-humoredly, and after a slight moment, Megumi joined her. How long since they last had a genuine laugh? Too long, Kaoru thought. The prospect of her wedding had weighed heavily on her.

She laid a hand on her maid's arm. "Thank you for taking care of me, Megumi," she said softly.

Megumi's eyes flew downwards. "I am only doing my duty," she murmured, blushing slightly. Neither of them was comfortable with too much sentimentalism.

"So he is not coming back, is he?" Kaoru mused, getting back on the subject.

"Probably not, my lady."

"In that case, we will depart for Kyoto today," she declared.

"Are you certain, my lady? You should rest a little more before getting on the road again."

"I am fine, Megumi. Beside, we have delayed long enough. I must be in Kyoto as soon as possible."

He would have been left with a false impression of her, she thought. She regretted that they parted thus, probably never to see each other again. And, somehow, she would miss him. His company wasn't the most refined one, but she had enjoyed it to some degrees nevertheless, if she were to be perfectly honest with herself. And he was handsome too look at.

Handsome? She was getting silly. He was definitely not handsome. Pretty enough, she conceded, and not unpleasing to look at. But he was far from handsome. Far. She didn't even know why she'd had such a thought. It must have been her weariness, the exertion of the previous days. Yes, that was it. She shook herself, deliberately pushing the samurai out of her mind. Damn him for sneaking so deeply into her thoughts.

"As soon as we can," she repeated. "But for now," she said, beaming at Megumi, "I am famished."