Title: The Geas

Author: Dragon's Daughter

Fandom: Rurouni Kenshin

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin. I am making no profit by writing this fan fiction. It is intended for recreation purposes only.

Pairing: K/K A/M

Rating: R / NC-17

Summary: Life hasn't been good for Kaoru since the day her father died and her evil witch of a stepmother turned her into a literal slave. A spell binds her every movement and hides her from the sight of the world until she happens across the path of Kenshin, a veteran of the Revolution who can not only see her, but is instantly smitten with her!

Archiving: Shattered Theories, Adult ,

Notes: The unedited version of this fic will be available at Adult and at my personal webpage, Shattered Theories.

Chapter Three: Revelations
That had been without question, the most through beating Kenshin had ever experienced in his entire life. That was including his entire period of training with his former Master, Seijuro Hiko and that was saying something.

From the ground, Kenshin had a marvelous view of thousands of feet as the crowd parted before him and flowed around his prone body. Several people just stepped over him, which was an improvement over being stepped on he supposed. Kaoru's lithe form retreated into the distance.

'That must be why the Gods gave women buttocks,' he reflected as he watched her hips sway. 'Eventually they have to walk away from us. At least this way there's some consolation…'

She vanished for the second time. One second she was there, trembling with rage as she stalked off then he blinked and it was as if she'd never been. Kenshin frowned. That girl was entirely too stealthy for someone who wasn't even trying.

A woman's shriek distracted him from his thoughts and he looked up to find a housewife standing over him. Suddenly all around him people began to stop and point. Men, who sat idly by not even noticing when it happened, suddenly came forward to help him to his feet. A thousand voices asked him how he'd gotten there, what had happened, who'd done such a thing to him? He was hauled to a tea stall and a waitress came by with a bucket of water and a rag to clean him up.

The crowd eventually dispersed, but Kenshin's confusion did not. How could they not have noticed? Kaoru had beaten him right beneath their noses and they'd all been blind!

As he gingerly tended his split lip a shadow flickered by the awning and he recognized Beshimi, one of Aoshi's ninjas who'd been assigned to watch him. The man was short, even shorter than Kenshin. He wore blandly colored hakama and a dark purple vest over his gi. Both of his hands were tucked into the opposite sleeve to disguise the leather bracers he wore to hold the little darts he used as a weapon.

The onmitsu approached his side to inspect the damage. "What happened to you?"

Kenshin glared. "A better question would be: where were you when it was happening? A small woman, who you've spent the better part of a week looking for, took a shinai to my face. Who's tailing her?" he snapped.

Beshimi frowned. "Uh, Himura-san… we never saw a woman with you. We suddenly lost sight of you at that run-down fruit stand. Hanya was staring straight at you then he blinked and you were gone. We've all been combing the area for you."

That stopped Kenshin cold. Between one blink and the next? Something sour coiled up in the pit of his stomach as the facts began to fall into place. Aoshi had already introduced him to the likelihood that she was under a spell, but he'd hoped it was just a compulsion or an illusion. No, this was beginning to look more and more like the Forbidden Magicks: a bitter-bind or worse, a geas.

A bitter-bind would account for some of her odder behavior, but the spell was too limited to explain everything. The spell could control her to a certain degree, but it was flashy and inevitably attracted the attention of every Mage in the area. The way people just ignored her could only really be explained by a geas; someone had made a spell-slave of her.

With an effort, he smothered his anger and forced his mind into the cold and precise state he'd practically lived in during the Revolution when he'd dealt with these sorts of things every day. He should have recognized the symptoms right away. Dark Magi had never been known for their creativity. Once they found a good rhythm, they stuck with it. A dark mage's comfortable rut was the biggest weapon in Kenshin's arsenal and he knew how to make use of it.

Kenshin checked his pocket-watch. The face read 5:30.

Unless he missed his guess, she was on a very strict schedule. The last time she'd run from him she'd acted as though the very devil was on her heels. God only knew how long it would take Shinomori to find her house, but he had a guaranteed date next Saturday at 2:30.

He flipped his watch shut and stalked out of the tea stall with Beshimi following him from the rooftops. There were plans to make.

It was precisely 5:44.

Misao crouched upon the rooftop of the abandoned dojo. The tiles creaked a bit beneath her weight and she pondered the likelihood of getting her Mother, bitch-incarnate Kamiya Yumi, to get someone up there to replace them. Somewhere in the back of her mind she tallied up the associated costs of re-roofing a building that size as she kept her eyes trained on the back gates. It was no good. The smallest numbers she could predict would turn Yumi's hair white. No matter that every year the woman spent more on carriages to take her to places where she could have easily walked. If Yumi had her way the Dojo and all the dreams it had once represented would rot away and eventually fall down under its own weight.

She spared a thought in memory of the man who'd built the Dojo and the house she lived in. Kamiya Kojishirou, the stepfather she'd never met: he must be weeping from heaven to see his legacy treated so.

The little she'd been able to inveigle out of Kaoru, the housekeeper, led her to believe that the man had been utterly wasted on Yumi. He'd been conscripted into the Seinan war long before Yumi had been able to collect her from the foster family she'd been left with as a baby. She'd been six or seven at the time and before then she hadn't even known she had a mother, much less a new stepfather! One of the biggest disappointments of her life was to arrive at her new home to find a cold-hearted reptile for a mother and an utter spider of an elder sister. The only refuge she'd found had been in the kitchen with Kaoru, who has two whole years older than her and had pretty much raised her until her mother deigned to notice her once more.

Misao winced a little at the memory of her earliest years. They were fuzzy at best, but she could remember the facts. Yumi, who'd been Komagata Yumi at the time, had been a courtesan of the first water before the Bakumatsu and for a brief spate during it. She'd included high officials and men of power among her 'patrons'. One of them had been the Okashira of one of the Shogun's onmitsu groups. When Yumi turned up pregnant with his child, he took Misao and fostered her with some of his 'house ninjas' who'd retired several years before. Old and cantankerous, they'd viewed Misao as more of a live-in servant who they didn't have to pay once she got old enough to take over some of the chores. Yumi's summons had seemed like a gift from God and in a lot of ways it had been a step up.

Even if the situation hadn't been as idyllic as she'd pictured Misao was still a Daughter of the House and as such she wasn't expected to work for every meal. If her mother and sister had sharp tongues and quick tempers, then they served to polish Misao's skills and thicken her skin. If she couldn't handle a couple of vipers like them, then she had no chance in her chosen field.

Misao was going to be a ninja one day.

It was a decision she'd made the second she'd first learned of her father's true identity when she was four and had been her driving passion since. She'd already mastered several of the martial aspects of ninjitsu. All around the city there were retired spies from the Revolution who were only too eager to pass on their skills. What she was working on now was her more viable skills: blackmail, information gathering, and the marketing of both. The Kamiya household was a wonderful place to polish those skills.

The pocket-watch in Misao's hand struck 4:45 and a huge smile broke out over her face as the back gates opened to admit her very favorite person in the world!

Kaoru gasped and nearly dropped her grocery basket as Misao landed in a crouch right before her. Misao sprang up with all the vivacious energy of a sixteen year old and threw her arms around the older woman's neck. "Kaoru-nee! You're back!" She practically purred when she felt fond fingers work into her hair. No matter how annoyed, exhausted, or busy Kaoru was she always had time to let Misao know she cared.

The housekeeper was more than a servant to Misao. She was family the way her own had failed to be. From the second her mother had abandoned her on the front step Misao had been lost in the empty halls of the Dojo. Out of instinct, she'd followed her nose to the kitchen, where she'd practically lived in her foster home.

There she'd been, standing on a stool watching rice burn with an expression of wicked glee on her face. Misao had hidden behind the rice bales to watch nine year old Kaoru put together a meal that was guaranteed to twist the guts of all who touched it. To one side another smaller meal was going, made of cheaper and simpler ingredients. Having gotten a good dose of her mother by then, Misao didn't have to ask whose supper was which.

By the time Kaoru noticed Misao in her hiding place, Yumi and Shura had been served with Misao's portion being thrown out since she wasn't there to eat it. It had happened just as Kaoru knelt to eat that the smell of rice had brought the younger girl out of hiding.

Instead of turning her in to her mother or any of the half-dozen things Misao had expected her to do, Kaoru had simply scooted over to split her supper. After that everything else had been inevitable.

From age seven to fourteen, Kaoru had been Misao's family. Yumi and Shura were distant acquaintances often seen and heard, but she'd never really interacted with them. Misao had pretty much lived in the kitchen either helping out or playing in a corner under Kaoru's watchful eye. In the evenings it hadn't been Yumi or Shura chasing her down in order to wrestle her into the tub and it hadn't been the Master bedroom that she ran to in the middle of the night when she'd had a bad dream.

At age fifteen, Yumi had suddenly recalled that she in fact had two daughters. Misao knew better than to believe her mother had experienced a true change of heart and regretted her earlier neglect. No, she was of marrying age now and that meant she'd fetch a bride price from whomever Yumi managed to sell her off to.

Too bad that wasn't going to happen…

'Mother' and 'sister' were words with every negative connotation possible for Misao, but take everything those words were intended to mean and then cull out everything but the best aspects. The result would come close to what she meant when she said 'Kaoru-nee'.

"Whaddya bring me? Whaddya bring me!" Misao bounced up and down around Kaoru as she made her way into the kitchen.

Yahiko sat in a corner, already chopping vegetables. Between the two of them, Kaoru and Yahiko kept the household running like a well-oiled machine. If they hadn't concentrated on making life difficult for their mutual employers then the Dojo probably would have been a much nicer place to live. Still, Misao would never ever blame them. From snooping through the Household ledgers, she knew exactly how much how much didn't went into their pay packets each month, or rather how much didn't.

Kaoru drew no pay at all. Yumi had written her off as 'room and board' while Yahiko made less than a street sweeper. She'd never understood why they never left and found employment elsewhere, but as Misao got older she began to wonder if Yumi didn't have some kind of hold over them.

"What makes you think I brought you anything?" Kaoru said primly, with an amused glimmer in her eyes. She took her basket to the cutting broad and began unloading it. A tuna came out, skinned and boned by the fishmonger so that only the translucent scarlet meat remained.

Misao turned large watery eyes on her adopted sister. "But… Kaoru!" the words were barely out of her mouth before an apple came flying at her head. She caught it on reflex and grinned. "Thank you!" She squealed and planted a big kiss on Kaoru's cheek.

The older girl grunted and pretended not to notice when Yahiko swiped two more. Instead she waved them both off and occupied herself by storing the rest of the fruit. Misao retreated to the rice bales and perched on one to idly eat her snack while Kaoru desecrated the corpse of the unfortunate tuna. Misao still ate with Kaoru and Yahiko. Yumi didn't care, the less she had to see Misao the better. That let Kaoru cook more for all of them and she had actually come to terms with vegetable dishes. There was a certain interlude of adjustment, but by now Misao had actually gotten to prefer the strong bold flavors Kaoru cooked with. Everything else tasted kind of bland at that point.

She missed fish though. Meat in general rarely graced their plates. The Fishmonger usually gave them enough for two servings, no more. Everyone else subsisted on rice, the few vegetables Yumi allotted them, and whatever Yahiko could steal to bolster them. Sometimes it occurred to Misao that's she'd have lived a more comfortable life if she'd emulated her mother the way Shura had. There was nothing Yumi liked more than a human mirror.

Misao knew that neither Yumi nor Shura subsisted solely on the treacherous meals Kaoru made. They usually ate a large lunch out in the town and had all sorts of sweets tucked around the house. Shura also got more pocket money than Misao, and rarely had to use her own money on the little luxuries in life. This was not to say that Yumi was Misao's only source of income. Oh no, she had all sorts of side 'businesses'. Misao hoarded her money, rarely using it for something other than birthday presents or sheer necessities. Her savings represented the seed money that she'd use to build her underground empire.

Oh yes, Misao had a plan. She was going to start small, building from the roots she'd accumulated in Tokyo. She had contacts all over the place among the house servants and messengers in town. It was amazing what people would say in front of the hired help! Misao kept track of it all and cheerfully blackmailed stuffing out of them. She was careful, never asking for enough that it wasn't easier to pay her off than find her. Actually, last she checked she'd garnered a bit of a reputation of the 'Honest Extortionist'. Recently, she'd expanded her business to include the buying and selling of 'interesting facts', which by necessity precluded what she had on her blackmail clients. Still, things were running quite well for such a new 'business'. The only problems she could foresee would only come when she got to be a big enough player that the 'Old Blood' of the Underground felt threatened.

She'd be ready when it happened, but that was a long ways off. At the moment she was only the newest rung on the bottom of the ladder. Still, she always kept a sharp look-out for interesting facts about her mother. One day Misao was going to find something good enough on the bitch that would convince her to release whatever hold she had on Kaoru and Yahiko. When that day came she'd set them up in a Dojo of their choosing, or even this one if she got something good enough. There they could revive the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. Then she'd fill the roster with kids who considered Kaoru on a level with God and awaited her every word with bated breath.

Everyone needed a goal or two in life and those were hers. Misao said a small prayer for the fish whose body Kaoru was preparing to defile. One day she was going to see her Kaoru-nee make a fish and eat it afterwards. The thought gave Misao pause and she edited it.

One day she was going to eat a fish dinner with Kaoru lovingly prepared by her own housekeeper in a home where Yumi was only a distant memory.

It had been nine years, nearly ten, since Yumi had watched Makoto fall.

In public he'd always been 'Shishio-sama', but in private he'd been 'Makoto'. Even a decade after the fact she could still taste the sweetness of his name on her lips, whispered in the darkness when his arms were no longer there to comfort her.

If she closed her eyes she could still hear him laughing as the flames engulfed his body. She could still see the tawny eyes of his murderer, as hot and unforgiving as the fire that took Makoto from her. By her love's order she'd hidden herself away as he fought the Battousai. Only the weight of her given word had kept her rooted to the ground when she'd wanted nothing more than to fling herself into the fire borne of his poor inflamed body.

'Only the strong survive, Yumi. Be strong and you will survive even if I am gone.'

His last words to her

She was strong although her hands would never heft a blade. The magic she wrought from will and word were her power, different from Makoto's yet potent all the same. Makoto had seen that and had recognized her as worthy to stand at his side. In his memory she had honed herself and her power until she dwelt beneath the Battousai's very nose and he did not suspect her.

Soon she'd be able to take revenge for her Makoto's death.

The weak serve as food for the strong and by his own philosophy Makoto had fed the Battousai. In the grave she knew Makoto held no grudges: there were no exceptions in the survival of the fittest. However she was alive and every day her heart bled anew when she woke in the morning to find herself alone. For that the Battousai would pay.

For ten years she'd bided her time, building capitol and a base of power. She was well connected in Tokyo and this ramshackle Dojo, which she'd wrested from Kojishirou's wretched daughter sat on a nexus of natural ley-lines; a node if you will, where the natural energies of the earth met and pooled together so that an enterprising mage could tap into them at will. With the powers she'd gained it was only a matter of picking a suitable time and place in which to slay her enemy.

Of her two daughters only the eldest, Shura, had shown any capacity for the higher magicks. Misao, that mistake, had clearly taken after her father and was only suited to shadow skills. While she would never be the mage her mother was Shura still enough to make a mother weep with pride. She was ambitious, but smart enough to know when to bow to her mother's will. Shura had also inherited a softer version of her mother's beauty, which made for an interesting advantage.

The Battousai was many things, but he was still a man and subject to all the weaknesses thereof. Yumi knew better than to allow greed to get the best of her, but she also knew better than to let a little risk sway her from greater gains.

The weak live to feed the strong and if everything went as planned then the Battousai would make a fine meal.

"A geas… it would make sense." Aoshi took a slow, appreciative sip of his brandy.

Kenshin kept an impressive array of alcohol in his small town home. The country estate outside of town was even more awe inspiring. One could find liqueurs from across the globe in his parlor… save one. As long as he'd known the man, he's never seen Kenshin so much as look at saké.

Aoshi considered the fine amber liquid in his glass. Yes, a geas would certainly account for the odd layering in the girl's aura. A spell like that was almost impossible to identify unless fate walked you straight into it –as it had in this case. It took an obscene amount of power to pull off and was usually rendered ineffectual if the subject of the spell had any sort of willpower at all. The taint on the shinai had gone deep so it was likely that it had been placed on her at an early age… perhaps as a betrayal of trust. She would have spent her developing years as a literal slave, which would obviously have affected her growing will.

From what Kenshin had told him, the girl obviously had been defying the binding although it had taken external stimuli to force the breach of orders. Giving her name was obviously a classic restriction and one of those most powerfully enforced. A name opened all sorts of possibilities to those who would break the spell. Without her family name, most of Aoshi's avenues of inquiry were closed, but there were things he could do with a personal name.

Once the shinai led him to her the geas would be unable to affect him and she would be able to finger her oppressor. Also, the object held enough traces of her that he could use it as something of a proximity alert. If he got within ten paces of her, he would know.

Kenshin watched him silently from the recessed of one of the giant wing-backed chairs that populated his cozy little study. A book had appeared in his lap and Kenshin busied himself with it. For all his faults the man knew better than to interrupt Aoshi's train of thought, for which he was eternally grateful.

It came as no surprise that Kenshin was completely unaffected by the taint of the geas. He'd always been a wild card where magic was concerned even though he'd never be a full mage. If magic was a thunderstorm then Kenshin was the lightening-rod. His presence always seemed to bring the scum to the surface either by intent or accident. This girl was only the latest in a long string of examples, even if she was a singularly useful one.

Aoshi permitted himself a small smile. The more he learned about this 'Kaoru' the more he found that she was exactly what they'd been looking for. The girl had such a similar background to his (barring certain sections) that she'd be able to relate to him in a way no one else could. She could also deflate Kenshin's ego at fifty paces and was more than a match for him intellectually. That she was a fighter was an unexpected bonus. She'd be able to protect herself long enough for help to arrive if the situation arose. Yes, she'd do magnificently.

"How's your search coming along?" Kenshin's voice was droll and Aoshi shot him a dark look.

"I've limited my search to the northern quarter of town. Today I walked through one eighth of it. I have not detected any sign of her yet, but I expect she will be closer to the center where there are houses that actually require servants." The report rolled off Aoshi's tongue easily. Kenshin was a more understanding client than most, although he didn't tolerate incompetence.

Kenshin nodded. "Good. We have a week to find her home address. On Saturday you'll accompany me to the markets. I've been able to corner her twice there." He grinned. "One would think you'd be a little more enthusiastic. I know you were the one behind Sanosuke's sudden decision that I should get leg-shackled. Rejoice, oh-Okashira, for the eternal Bachelor is no more!"

"Enough." Aoshi said curtly, having no patience for Kenshin's antics. He took a drink from his tumbler. "I've made it clear that your nuptials or lack thereof are no concern of mine. I do not care if you wed or not." An onmitsu's pride and joy was his ability to tell a straight-faced lie. Kenshin would NEVER find out about his connection with the Grand Marriage Scheme as Sagara had dubbed their efforts.

The redhead chuckled at tipped his glass in Aoshi's direction. "Ah, well. To you, my friend. May you find a woman who fascinates you every bit as much as my Kaoru does me. Furthermore I hope you have even more trouble getting a hold of her than I am." He took a sip of his wine and grinned unrepentantly under Aoshi's glare.

"On that note, I will take my leave." Aoshi said coldly as he rose. Kenshin nodded and rang for a maid who came with his coat. The staff knew him well, Aoshi reflected as he accepted his trench from the young girl who dimpled prettily as he passed.

"Go safely, Shinomori." Kenshin called after him.

"Always."

End Chapter Three
Seiyuu: Y'all have the lovely Jane Drew and a boring afternoon to thank for this early update. I opened my email to find an awesome 2K review and y'all you what I sucker I am for constructive criticism. A review like that deserves a reward. Here you go, Jane! This one is for you!