The Fires of Vengeance

by Halcyon Seraphim

After realizing that his very presence is a danger to Kaoru and the others, Kenshin leaves the Kamiya dojo, unaware that he's leaving a little something more behind than just his friends. And years later, that something wants him dead... UPDATED! Chapter

9. Twigs of the Pyre

The Fires of Vengeance- Chapter 9: Twigs of the Pyre

Yes, yes, you all hate me. I am so sorry that it's been…about a year since my last update. As I said in my profile, I really had so much work to contend with that, I'll admit with a great deal of embarrassment, I was actually planning on abandoning writing anything until the summer. My latest post was my Shaman King fanfic, which was reasonably shorter than my RK installments and therefore less demanding. (bows) Gomen nasai. I promise to make it up with more happy angst for you.

Disclaimer: I'm flat out Broke. (Like my other fic. Yes, yes, pun intended. XD) But I swear, that day when I have the kind of cash needed to buy out a series, RUROUNI KENSHIN SHALL BE MINE! (resounding maniacal laughter)

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Reiko gradually and grudgingly arose to the thin wisps of sunlight that were seeping through her windows. Damn it, she thought tiredly, sitting up with a lethargic stretch, I really have lost my touch. I never used to sleep till dawn or past it. Rising and parting the frames of her window to allow for some ventilation, Reiko strolled over to the section of her room where her clothes lay in a mismatched pile.

"Now let's see…which selection of clothing would make me look most presentable?" she muttered, smiling faintly despite her slight aggravation. It had, after all, been not seven days since her encounter with Ryoji Ishimori, but eight. Despite her best efforts to stealthily sneak away the previous evening, Kaoru caught her and incorrectly assumed that Reiko was out for nothing more than a way to shirk her chores. She put her to cooking immediately, and Reiko's brilliant opportunity to finally obtain a katana had been foiled.

Sorting through her clothing, trying and failing to find something that was not adorned with creases, Reiko's smile faded upon remembrance. Will Ishimori-san even take me seriously? Will he think I've forgotten or decided against it? Has he already disassembled my sword or melted it down into an array of knives? Even more regrettable was the fact that she would be forced to sit through a day of school, her mother having returned to complete sanity and with her toleration of Reiko's lank efforts at the godforsaken establishment growing very thin. So her rendezvous with the only person willing to forge a sword for her would have to wait till the late afternoon. Abandoning her futile efforts to find something prim and lady-like to wear, Reiko selected a black gi and a white hakama, threw it on and secured her money within her gi, before heading off in the direction of the kitchen.

"That, Reiko, was awesome," Sanosuke answered, patting his stomach with a satisfied grin. "You outdid yourself, kid."

Reiko scoffed. "Don't I always?"

"Don't take up that arrogant tone with your uncle!" Sanosuke replied in mock indignation. "Especially when he has to pick himself up at dawn to walk you to school."

"I keep telling 'kaa-san to just let me walk on my own…" She let her voice trail off.

"Reiko, we've been through this countless times. Firstly, it's dangerous for you to be out on your own, and secondly, we all know that if you're allowed to walk to school on your own, you'll never actually make it there," Kaoru interjected, setting down her chopsticks.

"I resent that. I would never dream of ditching school!"

"We're sure," the two chorused sarcastically.

"I'm glad you have such faith in me." Reiko glanced at the two vacant seats at the breakfast table. "Where are Megumi and Yahiko?"

"Megumi's at the clinic, and Yahiko's off training in the backyard, avoiding the object of his affection whom he will be bound to within a few months. Poor guy," Sanosuke said sympathetically.

"Men," Reiko remarked, rolling her eyes. "Well, if you're finished stuffing your face with another free meal, Sano, I do believe we should leave if I don't want to be late."

"Yeah, but…when do you ever not want to be late?"

"Ha, you're a riot, Sanosuke. If the gambling business goes sour, you could become a comedian!" Reiko replied drably.

"Kaoru, your daughter is attacking my honor and you're just sitting there…" Sanosuke commented to Kaoru, who was peering intently at her newspaper.

"I'm sorry," she said, glancing up. "Something caught my attention. Reiko, what did you say your friend's name was?"

"Friend? What?"

"Some hotshot politician called Yagami is having some sort of grand feast at his mansion later this week. Is he by any chance related to your friend Satoshi?" Curious, Reiko glanced at the black-and-white photograph. Upon seeing the falsely beaming man in the picture, Reiko's eyes narrowed.

"I'll say," Reiko responded darkly. "That's his father."

"Now, now, Reiko…you've been holding out on me. How many times did your uncle tell you to milk those rich folks for all they're worth?" Sanosuke asked her, shaking his head.

"Sanosuke!" Kaoru snapped reproachfully.

"Once, about two seconds ago," Reiko replied. "Can we please go?" She was beginning to experience a slight anxiety, hoping her mother wouldn't scold her for arriving mud-covered into the presence of such a prestigious man. She'd seen mothers constantly reprimanding their daughters for such brazen displays of ignorance and lack of integrity, but Kaoru had merely reminded Reiko for the umpteenth time how different she was from other parents and said nothing.

"Fine, fine," Sanosuke submitted, rising from his place by the table.

------

"Damn it," Reiko repeated over and over, her cursing developing into a mantra. She cautiously trod on the wooden floor that led to her classroom, dreading entering it about as much as she dreaded meeting Seijuro Hiko once again. Slowly and desperately attempting to remain unnoticed, Reiko slid the screen to her classroom open and walked inside.

Inoue-sensei regarded her with a weary gaze for a moment, but otherwise acted as though her speech had not been interrupted.

"Class, I'm sure you all remember my telling you about a new student that was to be joining us this week from Britain. His name is Kyo Hideyoshi, and he will be in this class as of today," Inoue-sensei went on, and as if on cue, someone entered the classroom from the door opposite the one Reiko had used.

"Ohayou gozaimasu," he greeted them, bowing. "Namae wa Hideyoshi Kyo desu."

The effect he had on the female populace of the room was instantaneous. "He's…gorgeous," and awed whispers of "Wow," were among the words exchanged between several of the girls sitting near Sora. Reiko ignored them easily, instead watching Kyo as intently as he was being discussed. He was noticeably tall, with stark red hair that framed a pale face. His green eyes appeared bored, almost indifferent to the events taking place around him. He toyed with his black sleeve absentmindedly, evidently waiting for Inoue-sensei to designate a place for him to sit.

"Right. Hideyoshi-san, please sit next to Kamiya-san and Yagami-san. You two, raise your hands," she ordered. Reiko and Satoshi collectively did as she asked, seated side-by-side as Reiko had taken to sitting as far away from Sora as was possible in the tiny classroom.

"You jackass!" Satoshi said lightly upon Kyo drawing nearer. "You've been holding out on me!" He elbowed him in the ribs.

"Is this the refinement of the Yagami heir, Sato-kun?" Kyo asked with a broad smile.

"Please. 'Heir,' you say. My father's so hard to kill off he'll be here—with the cockroaches—shortly after the apocalypse. Manipulating someone."

"Who, the cockroaches?" Reiko interjected blankly. "I…take it you two have met before?"

"Our fathers frequently work with one another, so yes, we've met," Satoshi answered. "Except I had no idea Kyo here was coming back to Japan, nor was I aware that he'd be attending school here."

"My mother decided to settle herself in a tiny apartment in London as opposed to our huge house in the countryside, so I was forced to move here and live with him," Kyo explained, the word "him" being several layers of derision thick.

"Wait, so you're a politician's whelp too?"

"…I'd prefer if you used a different term, but yes."

"Why are you attending school here, of all places, and not some overly-expensive boarding school?" Reiko asked.

"My father felt it would be best if I didn't draw attention to myself. He's afraid someone's going to kill me, although I don't see why they'd bother."

"You may not be his heir, but you're still worth a fine sum of money, Kyo," Satoshi remarked airily.

"At least my half-brother's worth more, being that I'm a bastard since my parents got divorced. Smartest thing they'd ever done, come to think of it," Kyo went on. Reiko soon grew bored of their cryptic conversation, in addition to the fact that she felt like she was intruding on some sort of fraternal unity.

"As nice as it is to see you, Kyo, my friend here looks annoyed," Satoshi interrupted, and Reiko decided not to point out the differences between annoyance and utter boredom. "Kyo, this is Reiko."

Kyo thrust his hand out to Reiko. "Hello. God, I'd swear you were a guy if not for your feminine features and the fact that your body looks seriously frail." With a sharp pang, Reiko found herself sorely missing her bokuto.

"It's a shame you didn't swear it, Kyo-kun," Reiko remarked dryly. "I'd love to see Kami-sama smite you."

"Listen to her, Kyo," Satoshi agreed. "She'd enjoy it."

"…right. Why do you dress like a boy, anyway?" Kyo asked. As the question was laced with curiosity and not bewilderment, Reiko decided she'd do Kyo the honor of answering.

"Because a kimono takes so long to put on, I'd be even later to school," was her bright reply. "Besides, 'male' clothing, as you put it, is far more comfortable."

"You're probably still sore from the beating I gave you," Satoshi put in good-naturedly.

"And you, like all men, seem to love flattering yourself," she shot back.

Kyo stared at them with a hint of incredulity. "You're…friends, you said?"

"It's probably not mutual, but I suppose you could say that!" Satoshi responded with a laugh.

Kyo looked like he wanted to say more, but Inoue-sensei didn't seem to want to give him that luxury, as she was clapping her ruler against the table.

"Ladies, gentlemen, I'd like your attention now. I do believe you've had sufficient time to socialize. Now, for today's class, I'd like you to pair into groups. Yes, Narita-san, you may choose the groups on your own, so put your hand down. For our first few hours of class, we will be writing poetry." Her class groaned in unison, Reiko among them. She was not an eloquent speaker, and certainly had no desire to express her beliefs in a structured format with a designated number of syllables. "It won't be too bad, children. Do stop sulking. Now, after you've gotten into your groups, I'd like you to decide on a topic and then each compose two lines for the final poem. You may do so now." With her concluding words, there was a stampede to Kyo's section of the room. Reiko forced down her laughter and people around Kyo bargained for who would get to assimilate him into their group, with their victim looking on in horrified wonder all the while.

"This is interesting," she commented to Satoshi.

"Immensely. It's what he gets for his 'dashing good looks,'" Satoshi said with a chortle.

"Hideyoshi-san will be in my group, and that's final!" Sora cried. "You've got more than enough people!"

"Who cares? The more, the better! Besides, he's from the West. He probably wrote poetry everyday!"

"Actually," Satoshi interrupted loudly, "Hideyoshi-san is in my group, and this same group happens to be filled to capacity. Find someone else to tear to pieces." Kyo shot Satoshi a look of unmistakable gratitude.

"Well then, who's in this group of yours?" Sora questioned.

"There's Akira, Kensuke, Reiko, Kyo, and myself. Five people is a pretty crowded group, Sora-chan," Satoshi said coolly. Reiko—though she would rather run herself through with the katana she hoped to purchase that day than admit it—was rather impressed with how he chose to insult her. Rather than outwardly scorning her irritating intrusion on his group of friends (which Reiko still refused to acknowledge as her own), he used cold patronization, calling her "Sora-chan" in a tone that implied that she was below him, both in intellect and skill.

"Kamiya? By the gods, why would you want Kamiya in your group? Do you have some sort of wish to fail this assignment?" she snapped.

Smiling, Satoshi slipped an arm around Reiko's shoulders and made a brave effort to ignore how rigid she had suddenly gotten. "Koishii, I do believe Sora-chan was attempting to insult your intelligence." (A/N: "Koishii" means darling, dearest, etc.) For her own part, Reiko was slightly unsure of what Satoshi was scheming, but decided to humor him.

"Well then, I do believe she failed miserably," she answered. Sora, who was evidently expecting severe reprimands from Reiko for some filthy male daring to assume she'd stoop so low as to allow a man to touch her and use some sort of pet name, was severely disappointed with Reiko's answer.

"Then…you are…that is to say…"

Reiko forced a laugh. "Not the brightest individual, is she, Satoshi-kun?"

"Forget it!" Sora exclaimed. "I'm not going to stand here and endure your insults!" She stormed off with several of her friends in tow, blushing severely.

"Satoshi-san, I don't know whether to thank you or rip out your entrails and wrap them around your neck," Reiko said with a mild hint of amusement. The shudders of the four males in her vicinity drew a smile out of her.

"Well, it made for a nice method of getting rid of her, Reiko," Satoshi said. "Besides, I did enjoy hearing you call me 'Satoshi-kun.'"

"You have no shame…"

"He does make for a brilliant actor, though," Kyo put in with a grin. "It must take a lot to convince anyone that you could call her your 'beloved' and still live to tell the tale." The boys nodded in assent, for Reiko certainly had an impervious air.

"In any case," Satoshi interrupted, "we need to come up with a topic."

"I say swords," Kensuke piped up immediately.

"I say Kensuke's murder," Reiko added. "…with swords."

"Something that won't cause Inoue-sensei to give us a week's worth of homework for tomorrow, please."

"What about war?" Akira suggested. The other four stared at him. "It's a relatively broad topic; you should have no trouble coming up with two lines each."

"I'd have thought you of all people would suggest something with women," Kensuke said mildly. Reiko silently affirmed his comment, for she never failed to notice Akira's somewhat lewd mindset in terms of the opposite sex.

"I'd say the rest of you—except for Kamiya-san—barely know enough to contrive a single line about women."

"Because you, dear Akira, are the expert."

"Exactly."

And so the five set about composing their laments on war, Reiko haphazardly jotting down the first few syllables that came to her mind. Once she was finished, she busied herself with looking out the nearby window and envisioning the moment when she would finally be permitted to leave her prison cell. I wonder if Seijuro Hiko is still staying with Minako's family… she thought absently. And I wonder if he remembers his promise to teach me, should I be able to procure a sword in time. It's kind of ironic, I suppose, my setting out to be taught by the man who made a killer out of the Battousai, the person I intend to punish. Does that make me a hypocrite, then? Am I nothing better than the lowliest government official Sanosuke would spit upon?

"Reiko!" Satoshi snapped, yanking on her sleeve. "Welcome back. We're going to share our lines now. You may go first."

Reiko glanced down at her poem fragment. "Er…'Bang' sounds the gun of a soldier in battle, 'thud' is the sound as another falls out of his saddle."

"Okay, then, Reiko. I'll go next," Satoshi volunteered. "A single death is not important, and all remain forever focused on their work. Your turn, Kyo."

"A soldier bleeds upon the floor, and to escape extends his hand—"

"Stop, stop, stop!" Akira interrupted. "Have you never read a single poem in your lives? Where the hell did you come up with this utter crap!"

"And you think you could do better?" Reiko asked drably.

"As a matter of fact, the worst thing I could come up with would be sixteen times better than this bullshit," he answered, and to her surprise, there was not a trace of intentional cockiness in his remark. Either Akira truly believed what he was saying and saw no dispute in it, or bragging had simply become second nature to him. He reached for their papers. "Give your lines to me. I'll…modify them, and make a decent poem." He quickly began scribbling kanji with his brush as the others looked on in wonder.

"I didn't know Akira could write…" Kensuke voiced blankly.

"I wasn't aware he could do anything but chase after skirts…" Reiko said feebly.

"Well, he was the best at calligraphy two years ago. He even beat Masashi at the art, who'd been at it much longer," Satoshi said thoughtfully.

"Well, we know someone else beat Masashi in a far more effective manner," Akira added in an amused voice. Reiko glanced at him sharply and was relieved to find that no one was looking in her direction. Amazing… she thought. Even now, no one really knows that it was I who forced Masashi to flee like the blubbering coward he was.

To earn their attention, Inoue-sensei once again clapped her ruler against the table.

"Students, please, I'd like you all to finalize your work so we can share the poems now," she said with a smile, and her cheerfulness was greeted with another round of groans from the class. "Come now, I'm interested in what you've written! As I'm sure the rest of your classmates are…" Reiko raised her hand, and Inoue-sensei regarded her with a blatant look of shock. "Kamiya? Are you…volunteering?" Reiko fought the urge to snort, for she hadn't so much as volunteered to add two single-digit numbers since school had started.

"No," Reiko said immediately. "I was just wondering if you could spare us the sheer torment of hearing Sora-san's group do their reading."

Inoue-sensei heaved a sigh, and said, "Kamiya, that's enough. I'm sure that whatever Sora-san's group came up with will be wonderful. However, as you seem to be overly confident that your work is better, your group can go first." Akira rose with his paper and prepared to commence with reading his poem. "No, Gensai," Inoue-sensei interrupted. "I'd like Kamiya to read it. Just Kamiya." Akira looked crestfallen.

"I didn't exactly contribute the most meaningful lines to the poem, Inoue-dono," Reiko remarked with a glare on Akira's behalf.

"I'm asking you to read, not to give credit where it's due." Grudgingly, Reiko glanced down at the sheet of paper and nearly blanched. Quickly running her eyes over it, she counted about twenty lines as opposed to ten. Lovely, she noted inwardly. It's "The Tale of Genji" all over again.

Upon Inoue-sensei's signal, she began. "I sullied my hands,

With the red of innocent blood.

They granted no time for looking back.

Is this…regret?

My sword drags uselessly on the path of destruction I myself paved.

A slow, cautious movement behind me.

Is this…stealth?

I bring up my callous weapon and cleave another scar,

Another testament to the circle of rules in this cruel game.

My thin frame is shaken with scars…

Coating my soul and my body in a red luminescence.

Is this…pain?

To falter is to be weak,

To attack without reason is to be arrogant.

And to be a soldier, destroying, annihilating,

One must declare himself inhuman.

My senses bore witness to this shrine of depravity.

Is this…victory?

Distantly, they raise tattered flags.

My tattered flags.

And shout out in joy, in triumph.

I study the sightless eyes around me, and smile, sheathing my sword.

I think I have finally understood.

This is loss." Finishing with that line, she looked up to find the other groups eyeing her with mixes of annoyance, disgust, and bewilderment.

Her own group members, meanwhile, stared at Akira.

"What?" he asked sheepishly. "I got a little carried away…"

"A little? You didn't just add on to our lines, you novelized them!" Kyo said blankly.

"Well now…thank you, Kamiya," Inoue-sensei praised her slowly, accepting the small scroll from her.
"As I said, my contribution to this poem was minimal."

"Obviously," Sora chimed in. "That poem was westernized. It's obviously the work of Kyo-san." Kyo quirked an eyebrow and studied Sora lazily.

"Sorry to dash your hopes, there, but I had nothing to do with it. I'm an awful writer. We added things to it, but it was largely the work of Akira-san here," Kyo said while Akira's face became several shades more red than usual.

"That letch can write?" Sora questioned disbelievingly.

"That's enough!" Inoue-sensei cried out. "Akira, I commend you on your work. That was very good for someone of your level."

"'Someone of his level?'" Reiko repeated contemptuously. "That was better than the amateur love poetry you were having us read about a year ago."

"Kamiya, sit down. I didn't ask for your opinion." Shrugging, Reiko proceeded to seat herself next to Satoshi and await the next group's proposal. They looked completely undermined, and Reiko was not surprised. Anything they could have written paled in comparison to what Akira was capable of at his age.

------

"Hey, Reiko, Kyo's coming over to my house for sparring. Care to come along?" Satoshi proposed after school as Reiko crouched, fixing her sandal strap.

"I can't believe you two!" Akira shouted angrily. "Inoue-sensei assigned an insane amount of work! How could you possibly have time to spar?"

"We don't particularly care what Inoue-sensei assigns, Akira-san," Kyo answered brightly. "Neither does Reiko-san, obviously, which is why we're inviting her. Not that she knows anything about swords, but I like an audience." Reiko finished fastening the strap and rose, gracing Kyo with the fiercest glare she could muster.

"Don't underestimate her, Kyon," Satoshi warned, causing Kyo to visibly darken at the use of his nickname.

"One, don't call me that. I hated when my parents used it, and I still hate it. Two, don't tell me what to do. Three, she's a girl, and a scrawny one at that. I'm overestimating her if I assume she can hold a sword the right way," he brushed off the remark airily. Satoshi glanced at Reiko sheepishly, expecting her to detonate and effectively glue Kyo's mouth shut.

Instead of erupting into one of her usual, enraged rants, however, Reiko smiled deviously. "The path of the sword is the same path, Hideyoshi-san, no matter which direction one takes. Don't let your arrogance slow you down…" she drawled. "Or I might just catch up to you." With those parting words and a wave, Reiko turned and set off in the direction of the Ishimori Inn, enveloped by the sound of the nervous footfalls that brought her closer to her sword and her possible master.

------

"Reiko!" Minako greeted her brightly once she arrived. "What are you doing here?"

"Well…you weren't in school today, so I decided to visit a friend. Any objections?" Reiko lied, cobbling together the first excuse that popped into her mind.

"That's nice of you. You never bothered before—always too eager to get home from school for your swordsmanship lessons," Minako noted.

Reiko looked away, and her response consisted of low, strained words. "Let's just say that the Kamiya Kasshin ryuu has taught me all it ever had to offer." She ignored the quizzical look Minako regarded her with. "Anyway, why were you absent? It's strange…you've been attending school rather sparsely over the past few months. Are you still ill?"

The expression in Minako's dark orbs was impossible to distinguish. "No. I'm perfectly fine. It's just that my parents have been arranging meetings with…never mind." She blinked, dousing the expression Reiko finally identified as one of utter abhorrence, and instead turned to smile at Reiko rather amiably.

"Why the smile, Minako?" Reiko asked. Her countenance had made its transition from despairing to pleasantly surprised, and she was curious as to what had catalyzed the change.

"It's nothing, quite honestly. Only that…well, it's been a long time since you seemed concerned about my health, or anything else in your surrounding environment, for that matter."

Reiko shrugged indifferently. "I've been concentrating on other matters, I suppose. Matters that have nothing to do with what's taking place around me." Minako's facial expression darkened once again.

"Is it…is it something to do with the…the Battousai, Reiko?"

"Don't hesitate so profusely, Minako. It's fine to speak his name around me. I don't fear him, and neither should you," she remarked calmly. "As for what's troubling me, I've sort of been reevaluating my goals as a swordsman and realized that Kamiya Kasshin ryuu is a rather feeble art, especially the form I'm instructed in. Besides, it's become apparent that neither of my teachers seem to harbor any desire to continue to teach me, which makes learning it useless. I can't be taught by anyone with regrets, or else the true meaning of the training will be lost to me." That much was certainly true. Reiko had very little patience to spare on her mother's style of swordsmanship, and even less time.

"I suppose that makes sense," Minako agreed. "How's school? Has Sora been making attempts at annoying you?"

"Every spare minute of every day I see her," Reiko answered. "I've learned to ignore her, although Satoshi managed to shut her up."

"Oh?" Minako sounded genuinely interested.

"He made insinuations about a relationship between the two of us." Minako smiled at Reiko suggestively.

"And were they…just insinuations?" she asked demurely.

"Of course. I hate all men, Minako! You should know that," Reiko replied calmly and without defensiveness, which Minako undoubtedly realized.

"He is a nice boy, Reiko, and he's obviously taken a liking to you," she pressed in a gentle voice.

"He's taken a liking to my swordsmanship skills," Reiko said firmly. "And that's not likely to change. Satoshi-san was merely putting Sora in her place, as everyone I respect favors doing."

"You're on a first-name basis with him now, at any rate," Minako continued. "And you respect him." Reiko rolled her eyes to stare at the ceiling, exasperated.

"Hey, Minako?" Reiko interjected suddenly. Minako cocked her head to one side.

"What is it?"

"Well…Sora. She wasn't like this when we first met. She wasn't bitter, she wasn't full of herself, and she certainly didn't hate anyone. What could I have done to trigger this change in her? You were there, Minako! You witnessed nearly every interaction I ever had with Sora. Did I ever do something so offensive that she desperately needed to seek revenge?" Reiko inquired.

Reiko had, once again, evidently caught Minako off guard. "You sound so earnest, Reiko. Does Sora's opinion of you really count for that much?" Minako's words were met with a shrill bout of laughter from the younger student.

"Sora's opinion never did and never will count for anything. I'm just curious as to which of my actions could possibly have driven her to a level of such absolute detestation for me and anyone who associates with me. Perhaps I might one day repeat my actions with another…twisting someone's mentality in such a manner may indeed be useful."

"You are impossible, Reiko," Minako answered with a shake of her head, although she could not mask the amused quality in her voice. "However…" she continued in lower and darker tones, "I don't believe Sora's transformation was directly a result of any of your actions."

"So, she loathes me without a bona fide reason? I feel appreciated."
"It's…not even that she loathes you. Sora was born into a very traditional family—a family that denounces a female assuming any role in society besides that of a homemaker as Hell-worthy. You—on the day you arrived at school donning male attire and sporting wounds you received in battle—were a perfect example to Sora of precisely what she can never be. She doesn't hate you, per se. She hates everything you represent," Minako explained, eyes moving away from Reiko to rest on the delicately-woven lace that swathed the front counter.

"She hates me because she was taught to? Is that what you're saying?"

Minako smiled slightly. "Not at all, Rei-chan. Sora envies you, and it's a desperate jealousy, at that. You possess a freedom she can never have. Her family will probably marry her off to the highest bidder at the earliest age they can! Reiko, don't you understand? Sora isn't attending school because she intends to use this knowledge in the future! She's not bound for anything more than a husband and a few children to raise. She attends school simply to leave the sanctity, the protection of her home and learn how to socialize under the pretense of attaining an education! And because of that…because of that…she's lonely. She doesn't have a single person in whom she can confide about this, and that is why she hates you. Because she's chained and bound in ways you will never know." And although Minako's words could never coerce Reiko into forgiving Sora for her betrayal, they certainly bore some semblance of truth. As Reiko studied Minako's pensive and faintly agonizing expression and remembered the soft-spoken words she had just uttered, she couldn't help but voice her own speculation.

"Are we still discussing Sora, Minako, or was that exposition about you?" Minako glanced up at Reiko, whose expression bore into hers. "Well?"

"Reiko-chan?" The male voice interrupted the two females and spared Minako the burden of answering. "It is you!" Reiko and Minako turned to regard Minako's father, Ryoji Ishimori, as he stood there with a baffled and sheepish visage. "Sorry, I merely took notice of my star vegetable chopper. Am I interrupting anything?"

"Not at all, father, but didn't mother say that she'd skin you if she caught you taking another break?" Ryoji looked aghast.

" This isn't a break, my child! This is my attempt at scouting some kitchen aid," he replied indignantly.

"As if Niitsu-san isn't enough kitchen aid for you!"

"…Niitsu-san?" Reiko asked, confused. "Who?" Both Minako and Ryoji eyed Reiko as though she had suddenly sprouted several extra appendages.

"Your uncle, Reiko?" Minako said. "You know, the man you brought to live here a week ago?" Reiko could've kicked herself. How was I to know he was using an alias! She thought morosely.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I know him by a different name," she said immediately, feigning embarrassment. "He changed it shortly after moving away from my mother's family, apparently."

"Why would he do that?" father and daughter piped up in unison.

"I never bothered to ask…he might be reluctant to have anything to do with our swordsmanship style, I suppose. It is dying out." Another web of lies…it's a wonder I keep track.

"Anyhow, come along, Reiko-chan! We've got work for you to do!" Ryoji said affably. "Follow me." He ushered Reiko out of the room and towards the kitchen, only to abruptly switch paths after casting a furtive glance in Minako's direction to make sure she wasn't looking. With her closely following him, he led her into the yard and halted just before a tumbledown shack. Noticing her bewildered facial expression, he remarked, "I don't believe it's possible that you forgot our arrangement, Reiko-chan."

Reiko shook her head. "This is where you forge knives, Ishimori-san?"

"It's more comfortable than it looks, I assure you," he answered, waving aside the curtain that functioned as the miserable little hut's door. Reiko followed him inside, assuming he didn't wish to conduct business in a public venue. "It was actually an interesting experience, you know…" he said slowly, reaching for the sword that was to be hers, located so obscurely in the corner of the room. "Forging a blade for you. You're quite a character. If I'm allowed to make an assumption…is this because of any desire you might have to reestablish your swordsmanship style as one of the most prominent in Tokyo?"

Reiko grinned. "Possibly."

"Well, it's a noble cause, I suppose," he commented, beaming. Ryoji held out the sword. "Go on. Take it. It's yours." Mesmerized by the sheathed blade, Reiko waited patiently as Ryoji deposited it in her outstretched arms. Reiko shifted slightly, surprised at how light the blade was. Noticing this, Minako's father explained, "The metal alloy I used was different from the one you would usually expect in swords. It's far easier to wield."

As grateful as she was for the modification, Reiko was still somewhat troubled. "Er…Ishimori-san? I assume this is going to cost me a bit more?" Ryoji stared at her strangely.

"Cost you more? Of course not! It's not—"

"How much will this be, then?"
"Reiko-chan! Let me finish! It's not going to cost you anything at all!"

"…what do you mean?" Reiko was genuinely mystified.

"I'm not charging you for this sword, Kamiya Reiko. I enjoyed forging it. That's enough of a reward for me," he said simply.

"You can't be serious. Why would you do that? Waste your valuable time and efforts to make a sword for me when you're not even able to put more food on the table because of it?"

"I honestly think my reasons for fashioning this sword for you were not exactly selfless. It's been a long while since I received any requests for swords, and in this day and age, any requests I did receive I denied simply because there is no use for weapons made only to kill in this era. I didn't want my efforts going towards an increase of blood in Japan's vast treasury. But you possess a fire I haven't seen in years, and I do believe you'll use this sword for something other than useless bloodshed. You'll help restore the honorable art of swordsmanship, and that's well worth the loss of a few dozen yen," Ryoji continued passionately.

Reiko sighed and said finally, "Thank you, Ishimori-san. This sword is important to me, and I owe its existence to you."

"Think nothing of it!" he replied airily. Reiko smiled, but there was little joy or mirth behind the halfhearted action. If you only knew the real reason I want this sword, Ishimori-san… She shook her head free from the distressing thoughts. She'd come so far that she was not, under any circumstances, going to abandon her quest for vengeance because of an emotion as frail-spirited as guilt.

"If I may…" Reiko began. "Is it all right for me to see my uncle, or is he terribly busy right now?"

"He's been working all day, so I'm sure he'll rather value his niece's intrusion," Ryoji said pleasantly.

And Seijuro Hiko was indeed hard at work, distributing his attention over three meals he was avidly and carefully preparing. He diced a turnip and deposited its pieces with the contents of one sizzling pot, either completely oblivious to the two new inhabitants of the room or completely apathetic to their presence. Reiko stared at his sharp, professional motions and was, in the simplest of terms, awed by them. I suppose this is how the Battousai developed his cooking skills…and, in turn, where my own originated. She speculated.

"Erm…Niitsu-san?" Ryoji began tentatively as Hiko removed a completed pot from the fire. "Your niece is here to see you." Hiko glanced at Reiko quickly, his eyes too quick for her to properly conceal her sword.

"And did she say what she wanted from her uncle?" he asked, returning to his cooking duties. Ryoji blinked, obviously wondering why a man was so cold towards the child who was his blood relative.

"Ji-san," Reiko said pointedly. (A/N: "Ji-san" is the Japanese term for "uncle." I actually find that amusing, since "jii-san" is the term for grandfather. Poor Hiko. He just can't win.) "Okaa-san sent me to see how you were doing, and she knows how much I enjoy talking to you."

"Well! I won't get in your way! If my wife asks where I've gone to, please tell her that we're out of…salmon. Yes," he said thoughtfully. "Anyway, enjoy your reunion!" Ryoji was gone before Reiko could bid him a proper farewell.

"So you're still here," she remarked once he had left, pulling herself up with her arms so the she could seat herself on the counter. Reiko wasn't sure if she was surprised, or simply relieved.

"Your friend's parents offered me a job here, and I accepted. Free room and board, so I was not averse to spending a little more time in Tokyo," he replied to the comment simply. "In any case, Kamiya, where exactly was I to go?"

"I don't know. You're a man, and all men have a tendency to flee from responsibility."

Hiko laughed. "And you have known all men, so I can immediately agree with your deduction, is that it?"

"It doesn't matter." She slid down from the counter, muttering darkly. "You're all the same."

"Are we?" Hiko inquired. "You base your conclusion about all men on one action made by a single man, a man whom you've never even met."

"I've seen many men do severely moronic things, Hiko-san," she answered bitterly.

"But you've never been looking at these things from an unbiased perspective, have you?" Hiko reached for a slab of meat and began cutting into it. "In any event, I have no obligation to do anything for you. We are not demon and contractor, and have made no such pact. I bear no responsibility toward you, and would therefore appreciate if you would desist from speaking as though I owe you something."

"Did you not agree to teach me the Hiten Mitsurugi ryuu, should I have been able to procure a sword in time?" Hiko was silent. "I know you noticed my sword, Hiko-san. A real, metal sword, which I went to great lengths to attain. Are you going to back down from our agreement and claim that the words you know you spoke are nothing more than figments of my overactive imagination? They weren't set in stone…nor were they written on paper. You're completely correct. We made no tangible contract. But if you do turn away from our arrangement, then are you even worthy to call yourself a man? No…you'd be even less than a man…less than a coward, and less than a fool." Hiko's expression had been severe up till that point, but Reiko definitely discerned a momentary flicker of a smile upon his lips.

"Who did you lie to for that weapon, and what did you tell them?" he asked, smirking. The hollow tension within Reiko was slowly beginning to dispel. Managing to educe any positive expression from Seijuro Hiko was surely a sign that she was slowly and gradually managing to convince him.

"I didn't have to leave the neighborhood, Hiko-san," she said brightly, cautiously approaching him until she stood beside her alleged uncle, cleaving a large piece of tofu into smaller bits. "I came directly here, to see Ishimori Ryoji."

"And attained a free sword in the process. I commend you, taking advantage of a man's kindness and devotion to blacksmithing, and manipulating him into fashioning a lethal weapon for a whelp of a girl," Hiko commented. Reiko paused in her cutting.

"How…how did you know that he gave it to me for free?" she asked slowly. Hiko dropped the squares of beef into a pot and tossed the contents to spread them over the surface of the heated metal.

"That man is immensely kind, often allowing people to stay here for little or no money if they have no where else to go. In return he asks for naught but their word that they will compensate for his services someday. He is most certainly a benevolent man…but most fools are," Hiko said, once again displaying his ephemeral grin. As it faded, he continued, "He wanted to make that blade about as much as you wanted to buy it, and so he felt ashamed almost, ashamed of his desire to generate something that may draw blood from another human being one day. Furthermore, you are a child, and he was aware that the money you were intending to pay him with was not acquired without a great deal of effort on your part. Perhaps he chose not to charge you in lieu of taking money you undoubtedly stole on the minuscule chance that you will return it."

"I didn't steal it!" Reiko cried out indignantly. "…at least, not all of it."

"Regardless, his compassion worked to your advantage."

"I did not manipulate him, Hiko!" she protested.

"Didn't you? Reiko, tell me. Did you lie to him?"

"Well, yes. I couldn't tell him I want a sword so I can kill my father with it!"

"And did you lie to him intent on convincing him to do something for you?"

Reiko hesitated, acutely aware of the hissing juices in the nearby pot. "…I did," she admitted finally.

"And what is manipulation, if not that?You spare no one, for you now seek to manipulate me in a similar manner, although you're employing a different set of tactics."

"I am not manipulating you!" Reiko shouted. "I am appealing to you for help! I have been completely honest with you from the start, Hiko-san! You are possibly the only person I know who has seen this deep into my twisted personality!"

Almost as though he hadn't even acknowledged her last few statements, Hiko said lightly, "I do believe it's time to add the tofu." Reiko nodded and, holding her knife vertically, ran it along the length of her cutting board, brushing off the tofu slices into the boiling pot. She stood before the flames, sheepishly admonishing herself for her outburst. "Reiko, you understand that this is a lifetime commitment."

Reiko brightened. "Hiko-san—"

"There is no abandoning the teachings of Hiten Mitsurugi. Once you pick up the sword, you do not let go of it—not until your death. You're a reasonably attractive young child, and you are but eight years old. Your entire life lies ahead of you. You still have the opportunity to find someone and start a family, establish a household you can be proud of, as you're obviously not satisfied with the one your mother and her friends have desperately tried to make suitable for you. You might be sacrificing more than you bargained for, all for the sake of your rash revenge."

"I don't care!" Reiko spat. "I don't want a family, and I've never had a home. The Kamiya dojo is a place I reside in, where I receive nothing more than food and lodging. It is the place where I was lied to from the moment I could understand what I was being told, and the place where my mother attempted to murder me on two occasions. That is my home. That is my family."

"Why don't you go after your mother, then?"

"Because I'd rather eliminate the root of my problems," Reiko said indifferently, although she knew Hiko was not being serious in uttering his suggestion.

"The idea of Hiten Mitsurugi being used solely for someone's revenge disgusts me," Hiko told her, immediately causing her shoulders to slump and her eyes to darken. "But. It seems my baka deshi has made a dire error that I would never believe him to be capable of, and as his former teacher, I suppose it is up to me to indirectly see to it that he realizes this mistake and rectifies it. Congratulations, Kamiya Reiko, and consider yourself fortunate. You've found yourself a teacher." Reiko fought the urge to grin, but she could not circumvent the thrilled smile that began playing a steady tune on her lips.

"Thank you! You won't be disappointed, shishou!"

"Shut up," he said gruffly, and Reiko immediately fell silent. "I'd like to first discuss how exactly I'm supposed to teach you. When are we to meet for these lessons, and where?" Reiko's smile and consummate joy slowly evaporated. I was so focused on convincing him to teach me that I hadn't even thought of how I was to escape from the watchful eyes of everyone I live with. The place will be easy enough to think of…but the time…I can't sneak off during the day, as mom forces Sanosuke to walk me to school. I can't come here after school everyday. They're bound to need me for something one day and might come here looking for me. I can't claim to be visiting Satoshi after school every day for the same reason. And I certainly can't change locations every so often, for it'll seem as though I'm avoiding them and they'll start questioning me. The only possible way for me to get lessons would be during a time they won't think to look for me…a time when they're preoccupied with their own problems and desires…as they sleep, and dream.

"The location of our lessons can be where we first met. It's a wide breadth of land and your teaching should go undisturbed. As for the time…it'll have to be at night, if you're up to it."

"Up to it? Child, I've been sleeping a maximum of four hours a night for years. The real question is whether or not you're up to it."

"I'll have to be. It's the only possible time I can get away."

"Am I to believe your mother never checks to see if you're safe in bed at night?"

"She does, and every night in fact," Reiko answered mischievously. "But once she's convinced I'm asleep, she never comes back to look again. I'm certain of this, for I'm a very light sleeper."

"And when does your family go to sleep?"

"Around eleven, I believe. And I'd be able to stay out until four. That's sufficient time before dawn for me to get some sleep."

"I'll be working with two to three hours of sleep. I'm starting to wonder whether this is worth it all," Hiko murmured. "All right, all right. You've got yourself a deal. I expect you there at 11:30, sharp. I won't tolerate any tardiness from you. Now, get lost. I'd like to enjoy the last few hours of the day I'll have without your irksome presence."

"Thanks," Reiko said drably. "But I have one last request. Do you think…you could keep my sword? It'll be hard to conceal at home, and I definitely don't want it found. Unnecessary questions." Hiko studied her carefully, thoroughly. His eyes bore into her own, unnerving her with their piercing quality.

"How long do you believe you'll be able to keep this up, Reiko?" he asked. "How long do you believe our covert lessons will be able to continue before your mother notices your nightly absences and newfound injuries?"

Reiko couldn't suppress a shudder. "…injuries?"

"I do hope you weren't assuming that my training would be painless." Hiko took the sword from her and stored it behind the counter. "I'll keep your sword, if only to stop an idiot like you from hurting yourself on your way home. But bear in mind that the people you share a dwelling with will eventually discover your intentions. What do you plan to do then?"

"Should it happen, I'll think about it then. I'm not going to spare any contemplation on their mundane concerns. If or when they unearth my plans, any attempts to thwart me will be in vain. It'll surely be too late by then," Reiko stated, completely unruffled.

"Ryoji, you fool!" someone shrieked. Reiko and Hiko looked up in unison to find Minako's mother, her normally authoritative demeanor seeming to reverberate from her with a greater intensity than usual. "Niitsu-san! Don't tell me he's shirking work again!"
"I won't then, Ishimori-san," Hiko replied evenly.

"When I get my hands on his skinny little neck, I'll tear him limb from limb!" Employing those threatening words as a parting statement, she regained her dignified manner and sauntered from the room, sparing Reiko minimal notice, for which she was grateful.

"I'll be going then, shishou!" Reiko remarked. "Please take good care of my sword…"

Hiko shook his head wearily. "It's free. I don't see what you're blubbering about."

------

Reiko tip-toed down the hallway, inching at a near-infuriatingly slow pace past her mother's bedroom. The normally commonplace and even comforting creaking of the floorboards seemed to echo throughout the dojo with a relentless resonance. She winced each time her shoeless feet made contact with the rather noisy flooring, and froze each instance she felt or heard movement in a nearby room. And upon every occasion, she would slowly come to realize that the only noise and motion was emanating from the wild fluttering of her heart in her ears.

It was absurd.

At the rate her departure was progressing, Reiko wasn't sure she'd manage to leave the house before dawn came in all its glorious, bothersome splendor. Speeding her pace slightly, she finally moved out of range of Kaoru and Yahiko's hearing, slipped on her sandals, and darted from the house.

Hiko leaned against a tree in the clearing, her sword propped against it along with his own.
"Did escaping prove troublesome for you?" he asked, his voice an indifferent mockery of his question, as Reiko could tell he wasn't very concerned with how much effort it took for her to arrive as long as she did so punctually and without complaint.

She stopped to catch her breath. "I ran…the whole way…here…" she said in between gasps.

"And you're this breathless? My, you're in worse shape than I thought," he observed. Reiko decided against glowering at him.

"So…where's my sword?" she asked instead.

"You won't be needing that for a while," answered Hiko cryptically. "All right. Before we begin to touch upon the finer nuances of Hiten Mitsurugi, we must first strengthen your frail little body. Now, if you'll notice these four trees—" he pointed to each of them in turn "—you will be jogging round the perimeter of for today's lessons…"

"How many times?"

"About…seventy-five." Reiko's jaw hung. "Is there any particular reason you're gracing me with that moronic look on your face?"

"Seventy-five? I'll die of heart failure before I finish!"

"Should you die on your first day, your demise will serve as nothing more than a blatant indication of how you are unworthy of inheriting Hiten Mitsurugi's secrets," Hiko remarked instantly. "I will permit you to walk a lap every fifteen times."

"How generous of you," she answered sarcastically. "Will you permit a pretty coffin after I do croak?"

Hiko smiled. "It's going to be an interesting few years with you, Kamiya," he said, not bothering to hide his amusement. "And yes, I'll do my best," he added in response to her question.

He seated himself on a rock, extracted a sake jug, and then proceeded to pour himself as liberal an amount of the liquor as would be contained in the small, flattened cup. When Reiko remained unmoving, Hiko waved at her dismissively.

"Stop wasting time, Kamiya. I want your first fifteen laps within the next thirty minutes, and the clock is ticking."

Sighing, Reiko positioned herself on the outside of the haphazard rectangle formed by the four trees, and set off. Within minutes, she grew weary and breathless, gasping for whatever air her constricted lungs could obtain as she ran. By her twelfth consecutive lap, she couldn't breathe, couldn't see, and couldn't think. Her mind alerted her, loudly, that the rest of her body was in dire need of an immense supply of oxygen and fairly soon. Collapsing in the middle of her fourteenth lap, Reiko hungrily gasped at the air—breathing and refilling her lungs the only notion that struck her as important at that present moment. She sat up, however shakily, and noticed Hiko eyeing her with an expression of pure disappointment.

"Kamiya, that was barely fourteen laps around the area. What are you stopping for? I asked for seventy-five, did I not?" he said coldly, the condescension in his voice very clear and pronounced.

"I can't run fifteen laps at once!" Reiko answered desperately. "I haven't had to run in any of my former training, I don't see why this is usef—"

"Are you questioning my methods, whelp?" Hiko interrupted nonchalantly.

"No, it's just—"

"Then you will get up and you will continue with your training. And for that little stunt, I want five more laps than I asked for previously." Reiko glared at him fiercely, but her new tutor remained resolute and watched her, waiting for her to begin where she left off.

The next set of fifteen laps proved no easier than the first, and Reiko's "little stunts" did not seem to decline in number. By the end of the session, she had a total of ninety rounds to complete as opposed to seventy-five or eighty.

"Well, that wasn't too horrible," Hiko remarked as she skidded to a halt. "I expected no better, especially since all of your former teachers seem to have no actual clue as to what strengthening the body truly entails."

"Shishou, with all due respect, I don't see how this jogging session will teach me anything. I assumed that our first lesson would have actual swordsmanship! Why else would you have been so intent on having me find an actual sword if I wasn't even going to put it to use?"

"I never said I needed you to find yourself a sword to actually use it at the start of training, did I? I was hoping that you'd be unable to find an idiot willing to forge a sword for or sell a sword to a mere child. Sadly, you barely had to leave home to find one such idiot. In any event, because you don't understand what that jogging session was intended for is proof that you still have much to learn," Hiko replied. "This was a test of your endurance, your stamina. A swordsman cannot ever falter in battle the way you did during your run, be he tired or terminally ill."

Reiko remained silent for a brief moment, before saying softly, "But…I was hoping to at least learn an attack of some sort today…haven't I proved my worth, shishou? What do I have to do to make it so that you'll accept me as your pupil?" Hiko regarded her for several seconds, before rising to his feet and lifting both their swords. He tossed her the sword Ishimori Ryoji had fashioned for her, and she caught it in one hand. Although Reiko remembered the lightness of the modified katana, she was still slightly caught unawares by it, her arm dropping to her side with what could only be described as expected weight.

"Unsheathe your sword," he commanded. Reiko obeyed. "Now, show me the stance you learned as a student of the Kamiya Kasshin ryuu." Reiko braced her feet against the ground and gripped the hilt with both hands, holding the sword just in front her chest. A chuckle erupted from Seijuro Hiko's lips as he came to stand before her. "Now, there are a number of things that must be corrected when it comes to your stance. Firstly: you're slouching. What are you trying to do by inclining your shoulders, protect your sword? Being hunchbacked also detracts from your dignity. Straighten your posture. Secondly, you hold your sword way too close to your body." He thrust out his own sword and Reiko blocked his attack with her weapon, prepared to attack him in return, but Hiko did not pull his sword away. Instead, he pushed against her sword, bringing both blades precariously close to her neck. As Reiko felt the tip of his cutting edge touch her neck, he released both swords from their locked hold and sheathed his. "If your weapon is too close to your body, it becomes increasingly more difficult to strike back when you are attacked. You can but defend yourself, and while defense is a vital factor in swordsmanship, defense—on its own—is nothing. You cannot parry attacks and evade getting hurt forever, and you can be assured that your opponent will have honed both his offensive tactics and defensive tactics. If you're powerless to attack your enemy, you will lose." Reiko stared at her feet. "Especially if your opponent is to be my former pupil. How do you think he got the name 'Hitokiri Battousai?' His offense is impeccable, second only to my own, of course."

"Thank you for scolding me, shishou! I suppose this has some sort of underlying purpose to it as well?" Reiko snapped.

"I am your instructor. I am permitted to scold you, insult you, and possibly even hurt you if I believe it will teach you something. If the Hitokiri Battousai were to take you seriously, you'd be killed before you could open your mouth to scream or wail. You have no knowledge of a proper stance in any style of swordsmanship. You can barely run fifteen laps around a small area before you pass out, winded. About the only thing you do know is how to properly hold a sword. Before I can even begin to consider teaching you an attack, you must first learn the basics, Kamiya. And at your present level, whatever knowledge you have of the art of swordsmanship is failing you," Hiko explained. "You asked what you have to do to prove your worth, didn't you? Well, here's your answer. When you overcome the weaknesses of your body, when you are able to run those ninety laps as I coach you to, when you understand how important it is to strengthen your pitifully weak physique, then and only then will you have proved your worth to me. Swordsmanship may have a great deal to do with psychoanalysis and quick thinking, but without adequate physical stamina, as without offense, there is nothing."

Reiko listened to and comprehended Seijuro Hiko's words, accepting the value of his brutal honesty. If anyone, anyone at all, can prepare me to face a killer…the only candidate is this man, the one who made him a killer in the first place, the one who helped formulate the inner workings of Shinta Himura's mind and can therefore provide insight into them. She bowed her head and offered him words of submission.

"I am prepared to undergo whatever tasks you wish, shishou, and whatever training you feel is necessary for my mastery of your technique."

Hiko brightened. "Good!" he said jovially. "Right now, you're going to help me find a shop that sells alcohol."

Reiko blinked. "I'm not sure I understand, shishou…" she remarked slowly. In response, Hiko overturned his jug, demonstrating how not even a drop fell from the uncapped container.

"I'm out of sake."

------

"A break?" Hiko muttered grumpily. "You want me to allow you a week of valuable time to spar with your friends?"

Reiko nodded. "I know it's only been a few months since our lessons started, but even you have to admit that I've gotten considerably better than I was when I first came to you. I can run your goddamned laps and I have an excellent stance. I can parry, I can strike properly—"

"You're barely making dents in that tree, baka deshi!" Hiko interrupted.

"I know you're not going to teach me anything of use until I can cleave it in half, yes, but even so, don't you think it's time I practiced what I've already learned in a different setting—with people my own age?" Reiko persisted.

"You have gotten better. You're certainly not gasping for breath anymore, as it's a wonder you shut up at all lately," Hiko noted in an amused voice.

"I haven't had a decent night's sleep in five months, and neither have you. Think of this week as a time for both of us to rest up!" she went on, brightly. "Besides, you can use it for beauty sleep. Lessen the gray hairs you've started sporting."

"Gray…hairs…?" Hiko blanched.

"I was only joking, shishou," Reiko responded after laughing loudly.

"Well, whatever gray hairs I do have could only have come from you," Hiko barked. "All right, all right. Permission granted. You obviously can't spar with them during the day, for fear of being spotted by police officers and getting arrested. I actually think it'll do you some good to get knocked on your butt a few times. It should curb any latent arrogance you possess." Reiko tipped the sake jug and poured him some of the liquor eagerly.

"So I get a week? And my sword for that week as well?" Nodding, Hiko deposited the katana in her lap.

"Your sword and your body better both be here next Monday, Reiko, or I'll fetch you at home." Reiko knew immediately that this was a threat her master would not hesitate to execute.

"Understood."

"Very well," Hiko dismissed her. "Our lesson for today is finished. Get home before the sun rises, or you'll be seen."

Arriving home at about four in the morning, Reiko crumpled onto her futon and promptly fell asleep, savoring the three hours of sleep she would be permitted before having to waken to endure another day of Inoue-sensei's irritating lectures and instructions. Those three hours elapsed far too swiftly for her liking, for Kaoru was soon tapping on her door.

"Get up, Reiko. You'll be late again," Kaoru was urging. Muttering phrases she was thankful her mother couldn't hear, Reiko dressed herself and emerged from her room to have her morning meal.

"Reiko, you look terrible," Sanosuke commented as she sat down and reached for a bowl. "Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Do I look like I'm getting enough sleep?"

"Well, what the hell are you doing at night that keeps you from sleeping?" he asked. (A/N: The author will now be thwapped for using something that resembles bad innuendo that much.)

"Certainly not what you and Megumi are doing," Reiko replied wickedly.

"Reiko!" chorused three reprimanding voices from the table.

"What? I meant, they sleep! And I don't!"

"Sanosuke's one of your surrogate parents, Reiko," Megumi said wearily, spooning some rice into her bowl. "And we are also accustomed to such remarks. We'd all know what he meant, and we all know what you meant. How about an actual explanation of why you appear so sleep-deprived?"

"I've been suffering from insomnia," Reiko answered instantly, thankfully starting on her meal.

Kaoru looked concerned. "Reiko, you're nine years old. There is no reason for you to be unable to sleep at night," she observed. "Tell me. Is anything troubling you?"

"No."

"Are you stressed about anything? Something school-related, perhaps?"

"No," Reiko repeated.

"Megumi, you should have a look at her today, once she returns from school." Megumi nodded.

"Stop by later today, Reiko," Megumi said absently, scrutinizing a medical chart. "If I'm busy, wait for me. I've got a few deliveries scheduled for today."

Reiko nodded and finished the last morsels of food in her bowl. "I'll get going now," she announced, rising and grabbing Sanosuke's collar.

"Megumi, there is most definitely something she's hiding…" Kaoru said. "I know there is, I only wish she'd tell me what's ailing her. I would confront her about it, but that's useless. She'd only be more reluctant to speak to me about her dilemmas."

"Kaoru, you know Reiko's a difficult person. She won't tell you anything unless it either won't affect her plans or plays into them." Megumi folded the chart and laid it aside. "She'll tell you soon enough if something is bothering her, you know that much."

"Do you…" Kaoru bit her lip nervously. "Do you think it's because May's almost here?"

"Kaoru, May's not for another month."

"What else can it be, then?" she asked urgently.

"You're being paranoid. Not everything that affects the life of your child is centered on you, Kaoru." Kaoru sighed, knowing that Megumi's words reflected a wisdom she should heed. However determined she was to find out what her daughter was hiding, she refused to intrude upon her privacy and would instead lie in wait until Reiko herself approached her with whatever issues she was facing.

"Well, if it isn't Kamiya…and on time, for once! To what do we owe this pleasure?" Kyo greeted Reiko with those words and a grin as she arrived.

"To some good news!" Reiko responded. "I convinced shishou to give me a week off from lessons, which means I get to spar with all of you again!"

"You could spar with us just as easily during the daytime, Reiko," Satoshi pointed out. "It's you who insists on never picking up a bokuto again, and never stepping into my house, where you can use a katana."

"We tried the second scenario, Satoshi. Your father doesn't exactly value my presence, and being looked upon with that kind of degree of hatred can't be good for my skin," Reiko said cheerfully.

"You're happier than we've seen you in a while," Akira remarked.

"You've been seeing a lot lately, come to think of it," Reiko said suggestively as Akira stole a glance at the group of girls seated several feet away from their own circle. Akira growled at her and resumed his surveillance. "Besides, kicking Satoshi's ass with a bokuto is far less satisfying than kicking it with a katana," she confessed.

"Ah…koishi, you wound me," Satoshi said with mock despair.

"Would you drop that stupid nickname already?" Reiko asked angrily. "Everyone we know thinks we're…involved."

"Because they're insane," Kyo stated blankly. "Anyone who knows you well knows that you hate men, and hate romantic relationships. Couple the two and you're ready to kill."

"And yet, they also notice that the only people I'm ever around happen to be male."

"Yes, but what they don't know is that you're only using us for swordsmanship practice, and we're all twigs you intend to break underfoot on your way to completing this personal vendetta you refuse to tell us about," Kyo went on.

"Don't start that, Kyon," Reiko said warningly. "I'm not going to tell you anything, so don't bring it up and don't try to convince me."

As soon as the words escaped Reiko's mouth, Inoue-sensei entered the room and motioned for her students to rise.

"Our first lesson today will be conducted in the yard outside, so I'd like you all to form two lines and follow me. Do this quickly," Inoue-sensei ordered. Excited muttering broke out among Reiko's peers.

"Outside? What can we do there?"

"Maybe there's something she wants us to see?"

"A picnic! I hope it's a picnic!"

Reiko paid her classmates no heed and instead did as Inoue-sensei requested, falling in place behind Satoshi, and regretting that she would not be able to sleep through that day's lessons as she normally did. Distantly, she processed that Inoue-sensei was speaking, undoubtedly explaining the purpose of their outdoor exercises, but Reiko spared no thoughts on her and instead devoted her attention to analyzing her conversation with Kyo. It was true that she had no female friends within her own age group, and but one outside of it. A number of the things she did struck her as hypocrisy—she had an undying hatred for men, and yet the only people she ever chose to speak to were male, and the only people she trusted with knowing of her secret midnight lessons were also male. She loathed her father with every fiber of her being, and reviled what he became in place of the person he could've been, but she was doing nothing more than carefully and accurately following in his footsteps. After I master the Hiten Mitsurugi ryuu…and after I kill him…I will have become a murderer as well… she admitted to herself. No, she thought after a moment. No. I differ from him in the sense that I will kill but one person in my lifetime, and it will be a person who thoughtlessly provoked me, not a collection of nameless beings I've never met. And I will fight for myself and for my mother, not for the debauched Meiji government. That is where our paths diverge, Battousai.

But what still disturbed her greatly was how Kyo seemed to realize Reiko's relationship with the four of them—how she was simply using them to meet her ends. I suppose I haven't been secretive about it…but even so, he's right, and it's probably a stroke of luck that he noticed. I don't need any of the four of them developing an attachment to me, not with what I intend to become…and not when I stand as great chance of dying as I do.

"Now, the girls will run two laps, the boys four. We will repeat this several times," Inoue-sensei was clarifying for the students when Reiko detached from her thoughts. "Any questions?"

"I've got one," Reiko whispered to Satoshi. "What the hell?"

"Let me guess—you weren't paying attention?"

"…do I ever?"

"She explained that schools in Japan have now adopted the Western idea of physical education and that we will now have to do some sort of bodily activity once a week. We're running laps today." Reiko fought down the explicable urge she had to cackle.

"And the girls have to do two laps?" Satoshi nodded. "What an utter waste of my time."

"The girls will go first," Inoue-sensei continued. "So, all of you, please line up in a single line starting in this corner"—she gesticulated in the direction of the place they were to start from—"and begin." Reiko's teacher was evidently trying her hardest to disregard the furious protests from her female students, most of whom had never partaken in any strenuous activity. Reiko, without waiting for her classmates to queue, simply jogged to the region Inoue-sensei indicated minutes earlier and began her jog. She had completed the assigned laps in under a minute, and came to a stop, stretching and wholly unaware of the way her teacher and fellow students gaped at her.

"Kamiya…that was…very good," Inoue-sensei complimented her slowly. "I'm impressed. Perhaps we should have you run with the boys…this doesn't seem challenging enough for you."

Reiko shrugged. "I wouldn't mind that, Inoue-dono," she responded indifferently.

"Good. Now, will the rest of the girls stop moaning about their non-existent health disorders and please line up to complete their laps?" Inoue-sensei shrieked at them, ordering them into compliance.

Satoshi, Kyo, Akira, and Kensuke were all chuckling once she went up to them.

"'That was…very good,'" Kyo mimicked their instructor. "That wasn't good, that was hilarious. Did you have to go all out on your first day? She looked like she was about to have a stroke."

"Well, Inoue-sensei should've expected it. Reiko's from a dojo, after all," Kensuke said.

"Inoue-sensei doesn't expect any shred of talent from me, academic or otherwise. But she's biased because I remind her of someone she once knew and feared, so I forgive her for being a cowering fool," Reiko remarked.

"…how do you know this?" Satoshi inquired after a moment.

"She told me."

"Did she say who it was?"

"It's not as if any of you know him either way, Satoshi," Reiko brushed his question off.

"Well, then there's no reason for you not to tell us!" he insisted. Reiko sighed and shook her head. I don't want to tell them of my parentage…but they hopefully won't draw anything from this.

"The Hitokiri Battousai."

"What?" the four boys exclaimed incredulously.

Reiko smiled, the expression both bitter and ironic. She repeated her previous words with a slight degree more hate sullenness, and a pronounced degree more revulsion. "I resemble her childhood memory of that blasted hero of the Bakumatsu, the murderer who slew hundreds of people to earn his name. Yes. Inoue-sensei associates me with the Hitokiri Battousai…" They gazed at her with baffled expressions. "Anyway, she's ordering us to line up for our turn. Let's get going." Almost simultaneously, the four shook their heads and trailed after her.

------

Reiko dragged her sword along the dirt path that led to the location of her rendezvous with Satoshi and the others, unwittingly carving a thin, indented track alongside her. Her movements were illuminated by naught but the pale, crescent moon that hung precariously in the obsidian sky above her. An aesthete might have paused to revel in the delicate beauty nature had spun, but the overall atmosphere of the night was haplessly wasted on Reiko as she trudged down the inclined, dirt-paved plane.

"Do you show up for anything on time, Reiko?" Kyo shot at her once she came within hearing-range. "We've been waiting for you for at least a half-hour. Your master puts up with this? I'd spear you through!"
"Ignore him," Satoshi advised, "he's never been a patient person."

"If I spent my life waiting for things to happen, I'd be you, Satoshi—arguing non-stop with my asshole father, studying every business text in the country while never actually intending to use the information, and agonizing over my mother's murder without seeking retribution! You sit on your ass waiting for everything to work itself out, Satoshi! You've got extensive resources, you've got the money—why not find out who killed her, at least?" Kyo shouted at Satoshi vehemently.

Satoshi watched Kyo's visage the whole while, his own features completely impassive, before saying, "We should begin. Kyo. Reiko." Reiko studied them both, and any thoughts she had been entertaining about her current companions identifying who she really was fled her mind. Earlier, she had experienced exclusion among Satoshi and Kyo that she had attributed to her interference in some sort of brotherly bond. Now, she became suddenly aware of the black threads of Satoshi's past she could never grasp—threads Kyo was masterfully weaving against him.

"Stop acting like it doesn't faze you, you chipper little bastard!" Kyo went on loudly. "You always put on a smile when you're around us! You're always so damn happy around us! You're so guarded I never know what you're thinking anymore!"

"Kyo—"

"What happened to our promise to avenge her death? She was killed before our very eyes, Satoshi!"

"I know, Kyo. I was there." He voice was placid and cool—uncomfortably reminiscent of the water that conceals a lurking predator.

"You haven't picked up your sword in two months! You made me promise to help you, push you if you ever faltered! You haven't just been faltering, Satoshi, you're at a complete standstill! I feel as though I care about this more than you do!"

"YOU DON'T!" Satoshi bellowed, noticing Reiko's involuntary twitch at the sound of him raising his voice to such an extreme for the first time since they'd met. "Kyo, she was my mother! It's all my fault she died! Damn straight I'm avenging her death, you bastard, when she died protecting me!" To both Reiko and Satoshi's unparalleled surprise, Kyo grinned.

"Now that, Satoshi, is more like it!" he said agreeably, slapping him on the back. "Now, come on. Let Reiko kick your ass. It'll make you feel better." His efforts earned him a feeble grin from the downtrodden looking Yagami heir.

"See, gentlemen, this is why I think your gender is bound to suffer in an eternal hell of stupidity. If this is how friends resolve problems, I'm thrilled I don't have any," she stated drably.

"Yeah, great, anyway, Kensuke couldn't sneak out and Akira refused to even attempt staying out this late."

"Uh huh," Reiko drawled, drawing her katana and enjoying the flash of moonlight dancing across the surface of the blade as she did so.

"The thought of doing anything illegal disturbs him so. 'We'll be out after curfew? And Reiko will have an actual sword? …I'm probably going to be busy, yes…' He's such a falsely demure little boy it makes me want to kill him," Kyo murmured. The words barely registered on Reiko, who was wholly taking pleasure in the effortless way in which her sword glided through the air as she rotated and pivoted her wrist. Originally, Hiko was cautious of her handling weapons, and she noticed the misgivings he still seemed to bear about the issue, discernible in the anxious stare that overcame his handsome features each time she swung her sword.

"Well, Kamiya? How about a match?" Kyo requested, standing before her and peering at her intently. "If you're done playing, that is…"

Reiko could not resist rolling her eyes. "Hideyoshi, your arrogance is forever weighing you. And remember, weight hinders motion…slows your progression…"

Kyo's smirk was almost sphinx-like. "I can't believe how serious that comment sounded. Kamiya, I am humoring you. You are female and have not even been training for the better part of a year. This match should be over in seconds."

"Tsk, tsk, Hideyoshi. Heed my advice on cockiness. It's the greatest weapon your enemy can use against you, rendering even the strongest of foes a complete novice," Reiko intoned the words Hiko had drilled into her mind barely a month ago.

Kyo positioned his bokuto. "Well, I'll heed your advice, Kamiya. When I run across an actual foe, I will tone down my conceit." Reiko held her sword before her, ready to parry any of his attacks. There was absolutely nothing she loathed more than members of the male population, save for members of that population with a fine, distinguishable degree of haughtiness. She steadied her feet against the dirt, planting herself firmly in order to better ward off any of Kyo's attacks. Much to her surprise—and, later, her displeasure—Kyo moved sluggishly, and she could easily anticipate his attack on her right arm. Swerving from his path, Reiko slapped his back with the blunt edge of her katana and stood eyeing his fallen figure with complete disappointment.

"This? This is what you've got to show me after all that bragging?" Kyo rose to his feet.

"I was just getting warmed up," he said, his voice rather nonchalant. Reiko breathed out slowly and assumed her battle position again.

"Well, are you finished?" she inquired coldly.

"I would say so." By way of a reply, Reiko lunged at him, only to have him circumvent her intended blow to his stomach with a simple tap on the arm—as attention-lacking and indifferent as the rest of their interaction had been.

And it was at that moment that Reiko became painstakingly aware of something she should've realized from the beginning: Kyo, confident and apathetic to her movements though he was, was by no means a failure at his swordsmanship style. Hideyoshi Kyo was not wasting the knowledge he had attained after five years of training with an experienced master whose name he refused to speak without reverence, he was simply not choosing to put it to any use against her. He was committing to the vow he'd made her, a vow that explicitly stated he would not take her seriously. Yes, Kyo was no amateur, as Reiko could see in his deft, expert actions against her. His attacks could have defeated her in mere moments. It was the way he chose to employ his talent that led the match to have lasted even this long. Kyo avoided her vital points, his blows destined for her extremities or her shoulders alone. He was especially meticulous when it came to her chest or abdomen, rerouting attacks that seemed to be headed for those regions towards any other available body part.

And then Reiko knew. She finally comprehended the overly apparent reason why the most capable swordsman she knew within her age group wasn't giving her the respect or attention he would give Satoshi, Akira, or Kensuke.

It was because she was female.

She allowed her legs to give way and settled with an audible thump onto the filthy ground, tilting her head back and looking directly into Kyo's astonished green eyes.

"Kamiya, what the hell are you doing? Do you commonly interrupt a battle by sitting your ass down on the ground and looking at your opponent like a doe-eyed idiot?"

"Not commonly, no. Although I would hardly call this a battle."

"I was beating you, and this is how you respond? Sore loser, Reiko-san?"

"You weren't beating me, you were toying with me," she put in calmly. "You refused to attack me as you would Satoshi, for example. You steered clear of any of my…er…female body parts. What are you afraid of? Castrating me by poking me in the stomach?" Kyo truly looked taken aback, as though he had only subconsciously been excluding certain areas of Reiko's person. "You were trying to beat me slowly, to seem as though I put up a good fight. You're an excellent swordsman, Kyo. But you're also an asshole and of completely no use to me if you're going to undermine me purely because I'm a girl. I'm never going to get any better if I don't practice with people who are actually capable of teaching me something." She rose leisurely, her icy, blue gaze locked on his jade one. "Thank you for wasting my time, Hideyoshi." She closed her eyes and sheathed the katana, proceeding to dust herself off once she was finished.

"Reiko…I don't think…he wasn't…" Satoshi chimed in weakly.

"Forget it, Satoshi. Finish the rest of today's sparring session without me," she said airily. She turned her back on them and commenced with covering the long distance between her current location and the Kamiya dojo.

"So that's it? I piss you off a little and you're running home?" Kyo called to her. Reiko paused, and devoted her concentration to affixing her sword to her waist. "I warned you that I'd be humoring you, I don't see why you're so offend—"

"Apparently you misunderstood what humoring a person like me truly entails, Hideyoshi," Reiko replied without turning around. "In no way would going easy on me and treating me as your inferior manage to humor me." Sensing that Kyo was doing no more than silently fuming, she began walking away once more.

"Dammit, Kamiya, if you think—" Kyo's impending reprisal was cut short as Satoshi placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Let her go, Kyo. It's useless to try reversing anything that bruises Reiko's pride."

"I don't want to reverse it; I want to beat her face in!" Kyo snapped.

"Why the sudden change?" Satoshi asked playfully.

"No one psychoanalyzes me and gets away with it!"

"Besides the therapists your mother sent you to?"

"…yes." The two laughed uproariously before realizing that it was nearly midnight, and the punishment for being discovered outside of their homes after-hours without the supervision of an adult would be less than lenient. Once their mirth had subsided, Kyo suddenly adopted a more apologetic veneer. "Satoshi, I'm sorry for exploding on you like that. I know your mother was important to you, and I know you want nothing more than compensation for her death."

"Oh. Don't worry about that. I told you to slap sense into me if I ever strayed from my path, and I did…for a while. You only did what I made you promise to do, so I have naught but words of gratitude for you." Kyo appeared relieved. "However…you are wrong about one thing."

"Yeah?"

"There is no such thing as compensation for my mother's death."

-----

Reiko entered her room as quietly as her sock-encased feet could muster, sliding her door shut behind her and stuffing her sword rather unceremoniously beneath the pile of clothing that served as her wardrobe. Shedding her gi, she crawled under the primary layers of her futon and curled up beneath the warmth her bed generated, a warmth she often cherished when arriving home battered and exhausted after several hours with Seijuro Hiko. She laid there, the moon lavishing its faint light on the belongings in her excessively tidy room—she had little time to spend in it, after all—and realized how she had never wholly appreciated the muffled state of the dojo so late at night. To her, every barely audible sound appeared magnified thousands upon thousands of times, and each nervous creak of the floorboards catalyzed a wild fluttering in her ears. But now…as she herself experienced a state of utter peace, the calm pervaded her surroundings as well.

She turned and stared at the ceiling, brushing her obsidian bangs out of her eyes and scanning the shadows the wooden panels cast, and became painfully aware of something she had not anticipated: she was wide awake. She had grown accustomed to arriving home with her energy drained to the brink of death, and had been passing out, hungrily claiming whatever sleep she could in the brief hours before she would rouse herself to begin another tedious day at school and another arduous night with her mentor. She had no doubts that sleep was the smallest helping of ambrosia that the gods had decided to deal out to mankind—had she believed in gods, of course.

And gradually, her heartbeat's pace slowed and her mind ceased its racing, delving instead into the convoluted worlds of her dreams.

Reiko blearily forced open her eyes, spotting the two figures before her—one, a man of significantly tall stature, clad in a long, white coat adorned with a yellow collar, the other, a fairly shorter man wearing a magenta gi and a white hakama. Once her gaze fell on this man, however, Reiko found that her eyes were as if adhered to him, so difficult was it to shift her gaze elsewhere. He had an array of flaming red hair, arranged in a manner almost identical to her own. Several yards away from them, Reiko's eyes finally came to rest on a third figure, one that nearly made her stagger back in shock.

Yahiko. One of her caretakers and the first swordsmanship tutor she'd ever known stood scanning the battleground—it was obviously a battleground, as both men were breathing raggedly and had weapons drawn—before him, positively radiating anxiety. Not for the first time since her bizarre, vivid dreams had begun, Reiko found herself wondering where she was and, in addition, who those two men could possibly have been. The tall man, donned in western attire and possessing short, dark hair with bangs shrouding his eyes, as well as a somewhat protruding chin, appeared to be holding a blade shorter even than a wakizashi. Glancing around skittishly, she took a few tentative steps towards the temporarily stationary fighters and saw that what the man clasped was, in fact, a kodachi.

"At first glance," the red-haired man was saying, "it would appear that the one with the katana holds the advantage. But longer ranges also have more blind spots. You use kodachi against katana within this one's blind spot, and then you attack with your fist. But if the range of the katana is altered to that of the kodachi, the blind spot naturally shrinks." After his explanation was complete, Reiko glanced at his katana, which she found was coated with his own blood. The man was firmly holding it not by its hilt, but by the blade's base.

His opponent had not failed to make this observation as well. "…if you simply grasp it, especially at the base where it's most dull, it won't dig into the bone. Break the bone by letting the flesh be cut, is it? I have seen the true essence of the hitokiri." If Reiko were to be a person freer with her emotions, she was sure her jaw would have descended far enough to make a dent in the floor. That one word had assured her of the red-haired man's identity, and had explained why she felt as though she'd met him before. She had become acquainted with this man—most certainly with his outward features, for she gazed at a replica of them everyday.

"Hitokiri Battousai," she uttered softly, painfully aware of her desire to approach him and run his own katana through his chest, and of its impossibility. Shaking her head, Reiko redirected her attention at the scene her father was partaking in and noticed that his adversary had suddenly moved as though to attack him. Expecting a few rapid blows, Reiko was surprised once she realized how sluggishly he was moving. His intentions, however, became clear to her once his figure seemed to diverge into several doppelgangers, making it impossible for even one with mastery of Hiten Mitsurugi—a sword style dedicated to foresight of a foe's attacks—to clearly perceive his next move.

This is…sword dance! The Battousai's thoughts invaded her mind. Though not ritual dance, but combat sword-dance, combining your kodachi skill with martial-arts movement! Shinomori Aoshi's true fighting style…

Shinomori Aoshi. A name was all her dream had left her as her slumber dissipated, and wafts of cool morning air, accompanied by rays of sunlight, streamed in through her windows, rousing her.

"Damn it all to hell," she said through gritted teeth. This dream, just as her previous one, had not awarded her with a unambiguous image of what her father truly looked like—not one she could recall in her waking state, in any case—nor had it provided her with a detail as minute as his name. The advent of reality had, as always, ruthlessly snatched from her the tiniest snippets of information her dreams about her father proffered.

Throwing back her covers, she swiftly changed into cleaner clothing and headed towards the kitchen, intent on being its first visitor for the day as opposed to its last.

"Reiko-chan," Kaoru greeted her with an uncharacteristic smile as Reiko entered the room, a smile that would have deadened Reiko's movements had she granted it any attention.

"Ohayou," Reiko answered, coming to stand beside her mother and feeling slightly bewildered that someone had still managed to wake up before her when she arose at the crack of dawn. "Um…are you sure you want to cook breakfast?" After nine years of residing under the same roof as Kaoru Kamiya, Reiko was no stranger to atrocious cooking and its drastic consequences. And ordinarily, the comment would have elicited a sharp reprimand, as Kaoru appeared very sensitive about her faults in that field. That morning, however, Kaoru's halcyon, knowing smile persisted once Reiko superseded her as the breakfast chef.

"So…how was your sleep?" Kaoru inquired curiously. "Did seeing Megumi help?"

"Immensely," Reiko scoffed. The only thing Megumi's checkup had "helped" was the vicious throbbing migraine that plagued Reiko for most of the rest of the day, as the Fox Lady had been unable to stop demeaning Sanosuke for longer than eighteen seconds. Mildly amused by this, Reiko wasn't sure whether it was because her uncle had done something incredibly wrong or right.

"You seem more rested, Rei," Kaoru observed, and Reiko detected a faint hint of...cunning?...in her mother's words. Blinking, Reiko turned to face her.

"I suppose I am," she answered evenly. "I did get more sleep."

"However did you manage that, what with your stealthy stroll in the middle of the night?"

Reiko froze, and froze so thoroughly she felt her blood flow itself had been paralyzed. She…knows…she thought in an aberrant terror. She knows I've been sneaking out, or at least that I did so last night… And for the first time in many months, Reiko had found herself speechless.

"Now imagine my surprise when I found my nine-year-old daughter's shoes were not by the door, and the rest of her was no where in sight either?" The grin had all but been wiped from her features as she spoke. "Where exactly were you, Reiko, at midnight and completely unsupervised?" Kaoru's appraising eyes bore into Reiko's, but Reiko met them completely unperturbed.

"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk," she lied. "I tend to do that—the night air is what generally helps me get to sleep in the first place." Kaoru opened her mouth to reply, but Reiko's explanation was punctuated instead by a young and disgruntled male voice.

"Dammit, Yukimi, stop fussing! You haven't stopped since mom gave you to me!" Reiko and Kaoru looked at each other, brows furrowed in confusion, their impending quarrel cast aside for the time being.

"Are you expecting someone?" Kaoru asked.

"Am I ever?"

"Point taken."

"I'll check who it is," Reiko volunteered quickly, laying her knife down and running towards the door. She pushed it open, and straightened, surveying the figure that stood before her. He was a full head taller than she was, sporting short hair that had a near-bluish quality. He balanced a small toddler on his left side, arms firmly wrapped about her middle.
For the second time in the space of five minutes, Reiko couldn't move. The boy resembled, completely, the man who had employed use of combat sword dance in her dream, only appeared fifteen or so years younger.

Before she could stop herself, Reiko blurted out, "Aoshi Shinomori!" The boy regarded her lazily as though only just noticing her, and shifted the girl to his other side, working his collar free from her grasp.

"You know my father, do you?"

-----

And that's all she wrote for chapter nine, folks. (hides) Don't pelt me with sharp objects for taking a year to write this—high school is demanding. T.T Anyway, this chapter was pretty slow, and its main purpose was to introduce a few new characters and have Reiko start her lessons with Hiko…and yes, I left off at a cliffhanger.

I do love cliffhangers.

Anyway, please, review. (cries) If only so I know that someone is still with me on this thing.