Author's Note: All I've been doing is reviewing other people's stories. Well, now here it is! This is my first fic, I suppose. And I totally support Kenshin/Kaoru! So expect a lot of that... --; This fanfic is based on the Kyoto Arc. Its events are the same, except the plot is different. Some information may be incorrect, but bear with me on that!

Also, this fic includes Soujirou in OOC-ness. This is necessary for the plot to unfold. Don't worry, Soujirou fans--your cute little Tenken will be alright.

SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS! There will be spoilers for the Kyoto Arc of the Rurouni Kenshin series, otherwise known as the 'Legend of Kyoto'. Don't read if you don't know about that! (you know, with Shishio and the Juppongatana). Or..uh...read if you want to be spoiled...for I will be including the events from the Kyoto Arc into this fic!

Disclaimer: I'll just say this: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin, but neither do you (unless you're Nobuhiro Watsuki, of course). However, this story idea is purely mine.

A Cloak of Protection

Chapter 1: Beginning Pain

DAY ONE--11:00 am

Kamiya Kaoru dimly heard her shoes slap against the dry dirt, as she heaved in huge gasps of air. Still running, she swiveled her head to throw a fearful glance behind her, and her heart leaped into her throat. They were gaining on her. They, with their masked faces and shiny-tipped swords, lunging at her, speeding up.

Kaoru threw herself forward, silky raven hair flying behind her, and sprinted even faster. If she only had her trusty wooden sword! Then she wouldn't have been running away from these men, instead fighting against them. Kaoru heard cloth ripping and realized that that was her beautiful blue kimono tearing at the hem, as she sprinted faster and faster.

The shoes on Kaoru's feet began to feel vaguely uncomfortable, slowing Kaoru down. Frantically, Kaoru kicked them off, almost tripping in the process. Her lungs burned with the effort of running and her throat felt bloody, ragged. Oh, where was Kenshin? She had to make it back to the dojo!

Suddenly, she felt a searing pain in her left shoulder. Staggering, she quickly clasped the folds of her blue kimono on her left shoulder in pain, feeling warm, sticky liquid beginning to pour out. Still she ran from these men. Oh, why were they after her?!

As Kaoru dashed through the forest, the tall grass visibly slowing her, black dots began to swim in front of her eyes. The warm blood was seeping down her left arm now, running down her back, trickling down her breast. The trees to the side of Kaoru wavered, becoming brown and green blurs as she raced by them. Behind her, she dimly registered the sound of the falling trees as her pursuers swung their swords into them, trying to clear a path.

Kaoru ran, ran as if her life depended on it. Which it did, she thought, as salty, glistening tears ran down her face. The burning red pain in Kaoru's shoulder became white-hot as Kaoru forced herself on, breathing heavily. The black dots swimming in front of her eyes started to merge together, and Kaoru realized that she was losing blood very quickly.

Kaoru heard a boyish yell right behind her, then. Feeling her heart seize up in fear, she pushed herself even faster, the pain in her left shoulder exploding. Chancing a quick glance behind her to see how far away she was from her pursuers, she was horrified to see a teenage boy, face contorted with concentration, right on her heels. And a blade flashed as he thrust it toward her.

Kaoru couldn't block it. She was already weak from the effort of running and the heavy loss of blood. Staring in calm disbelief, she watched the blade coming faster to her; sinking through her slender right side with a horrible sound, piercing through to her front side. In the split second that the blade stayed in Kaoru, she felt a terrible obstruction in her right side. She couldn't breathe around it, let alone move, else the blade cut even deeper. So it was just an awful feeling of barely-tinged pain when the teenage boy pulled out the now blood-dripping blade. She mentally berated herself for not dodging in time.

Then the pain hit.

Waves of pain, showers of it, rained down on Kaoru. She could barely think, let alone run from these men. Tears streamed down her paper-white cheeks, her mouth in a tight grimace from the pain. Her side and shoulder flared in fireworks of pain.

Kaoru took a few steps, bare feet numbly skimming soundlessly on the carpet of grass. Then, suddenly, quickly, the ground started to tip. The black dots from before turned a blazing red, fully blocking out her vision in a deep haze of red. The earth tilted crazily, wavering, tipping. And Kaoru felt herself falling through a cloud of pain, vision clouded.

It seemed centuries before Kaoru hit the grassy dirt, her side searing from the sharp impact. The throbbing pain exploded full-out, weaving together, bursting, flowing. Her head whirled in a state of dizziness.

Then everything went black.

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The boy lowered his shiny blade, which was now dripping blood. Battousai's girl's blood. He sharply flicked the blade around, spraying droplets of blood everywhere. The sound of pounding feet thundered on the dirt ground, and he turned around to see the hired black-clothed men running up to him.

"Is she dead?" a sweating man inquired, ripping off his mask.

The boy sneered, the corner of his lip twitching. As it always did. "Not quite yet," he responded, stepping back from the other man's b.o. (A/N: I just had to put that in there... --;). The boy slid his bloody sword back into his sheath and threw his head back, feeling the cold wind wafting through his dark hair and cooling down his flushed cheeks, pink from joyful exercise. The other men stared at him, waiting for a clearer answer.

The teenage boy responded, "The girl is just badly wounded, but at the rate that her blood is dripping, she won't just be wounded." His eyes glinted, as he thought back on his orders from Shishio-san. Shishio-san had given him orders to capture the Battousai's woman and bring her back alive (and have the hired inferiors to the Juppongatana helping him, though he had protested feebly). That way, Shishio-san would catch the Battousai at a disadvantage. Whether or not Shishio-san admitted it, he would not have a good chance at defeating the unleashed Battousai. If, Shishio-san said, Battousai had to protect his girl and also himself, he could beat the Battousai quite easily indeed.

Then the boy's eyes flared in a rare moment of frustration and dismay. A crucial demand... Shishio-san had clearly ordered him to bring back Battousai's girl alive...

Scowling, the boy turned to Shishio's hired black-clothed men. "Shishio-san had said to bring back the girl alive," he told the men angrily. "If she is to remain alive 'til we bring her to Shishio-san, we must take her to him now." Images of how furious the bandage-bound ex-hitokiri would be if the girl were dead danced in his mind--even if he WAS Shishio-san's best fighter. The boy shoved the thought away hastily and stooped down next to the unconscious late-teen girl. She was sprawled, unconscious, on her right side, where one of her ghastly wounds were. Her silky, shimmering sheet of raven hair had come out of its cobalt blue ribbon, so her hair was splayed across the ground. The ground itself was soaked with her flowing red blood.

The boy pulled the unconscious girl over onto her back, wrenching her left arm in the process. The girl moaned in pain, ebony hair surrounding her pained face, and the boy noticed the gaping wound on her left shoulder. Scowling even deeper, the teenager thought, At least the Battousai will be pretty angry about the wounds on his girl, that he'll try extra hard to protect her. Then Shishio-san will win!!

This fresh thought brought a quick smile to his lips, causing him to feel happy once again. Slipping a slender, pale arm under the girl's silky raven-haired head, and slipping his other arm under the girl's knees, he slowly stood up with the girl in his arms. Her hair hung down, swaying and catching the light. The blue highlights in the black glimmered.

From this angle, she looked even worse. Her face was a deathly white, and looked even worse compared to the bright red blood still flowing from her shoulder wound. The blue kimono was ripped at the hem where she had stumbled, and the side of her magenta obi was stained a deep red from the wound that he had given her. The teenager turned and gestured with a tilt of his dark-haired head that it was time to go. The hired black-clothed men nodded and followed him, as he left for Shishio-sama's current residing village, with the Battousai's wounded girl in his arms.

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2:30 pm

Kenshin, with a soapy hand, brushed aside the long-swept red bangs covering his bright amethyst eyes. A wet, soapy trail was left on his forehead as Kenshin tucked his fiery hair behind his ears. Throwing his head back, he gazed up at the bright cerulean sky just overhead, swept with the faintest hint of cotton-candy cloud.

Kenshin laid his right hand onto the wet concrete floor and resolutely stood up, allowing the now clean but soaked cloth drop from the fingers of his left hand, into the wooden bucket where he was washing the other garments. The breeze swirled around Kenshin, causing his wet and bare arms (his sleeves were tied in back with a string) to prickle, though the day was warm. In the distance, Kenshin could hear little Ayame and Suzume playing ball with the disgruntled Yahiko, heard their shrieks of joy, heard Yahiko fall down yet again as the ball crashed resolutely against his chest.

Suddenly, the breeze picked up sharply, blowing back Kenshin's hair, whipping his clothes back and forth. Kenshin froze. He had sensed something, with that brilliant sense of his that had come from learning the Hiten Mitsurugi style.

A whiff of metallic blood came with the next heavy gust of wind. Kenshin sharply jerked his head up, hands suddenly clenching into tight fists. Kaoru-dono. Kenshin couldn't explain how he knew. He just knew Kaoru-dono was in trouble, was in trouble somewhere.

This late morning, Kaoru-dono, wearing that beautiful blue kimono of hers, had approached Kenshin as he started the laundry.

Kenshin had glanced up at her, setting down the bucket of water. He noticed the dark blue highlights in her beautiful raven hair instantly, marveling at her beauty. Then a blush slowly crept over his face, and he snapped his attention to her.

"Nani de gozaru ka, Kaoru-dono?"

Kaoru-dono showed him a tiny basket she was carrying, covered by a brilliant red-and orange colored silk cloth.

"This is for Tae-it's her birthday today," Kaoru-dono had responded, lifting the corner of the cloth and displaying a shiny red box of brown Western candy in the basket. Kenshin remembered that Kaoru-dono had once said it was chocolate.

He smiled up at Kaoru-dono, shielding his eyes from the bright morning sun. "That's very nice of you, that it is, Kaoru-dono," Kenshin had responded, feeling a surge of love for Kaoru and her kindness. "Perhaps sessha will go over to the Akabeko today, if sessha has time." He fingered a garment that was sitting in the water-filled wooden tub.

Kaoru smiled at him, making Kenshin's heart pound frantically, and left, calling out a good-bye as she left for the Akabeko.

Kenshin felt a tight queeze in his heart as he remembered what had happened only a few hours ago. If anyone had hurt Kaoru-dono.... He felt his eyes flash deep amber for a second, then the amethyst Rurouni eyes returned. Reaching for his right sleeve, he untied the string quickly and did the same to his left sleeve. He ran to the dojo's door, leaving the tub of unfinished laundry behind.

Running down the hall almost at his god-like speed, Kenshin reached his room and flung open the door. There, against a stack of clean blankets and a rolled-up futon, his Sakabatou lay. Kenshin snatched it up and practically thrust it into his hakama (A/N: is this right?). Then he dashed out of the dojo's gates and to the Akabeko in town, hoping against hope that he was dreadfully wrong and that Kaoru-dono was all right; just chatting it up with Tae and Tsubame.

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3:00 pm

Shishio smiled lazily, feeling his eyes narrow in the hot waves of steam wafting from the surface of his bath. And he MEANT hot. Even he was starting to feel the heat.

Shishio glanced over appreciatively at the beautiful woman sitting next to him in the bath. Her porcelain pale skin was now flushed a violent red from the heated bath water, the heat coming from the wonderful hot springs around this village. She smiled up at him, red lips a bit swollen from the heat. Shishio, feeling relaxed from the finally satisfying bath water, brought his unbandaged arm out of the water, the old brown burns sizzling with heat, and laid it around Yumi's bare shoulders. She didn't even flinch from the extra burst of boiling heat.

Today, when Shishio had desired a hot bath, he had been surprised when Yumi had almost shyly declared herself needing a hot bath too. Shishio had smirked a little, doubting Yumi's response to the boiling water, but so far she hadn't complained. Now, Shishio's lips twitched a little in appreciation, and also a bit of wonder at Yumi's brave manner.

Yumi leaned against Shishio's bare, burned chest, sighing in happiness. This was practically the only time that she and Shishio had really done anything romantic, besides one little picnic outside, in the grassy fields of the village they were now currently inhabiting. And that boy, Soujirou, had been there. A bit of the happy bubbles inside Yumi popped explosively as she thought of Soujirou--how he was always aiding Shishio. Yumi knew Shishio appreciated this; she was just jealous because she really didn't do anything. All she was was Shishio's woman.

But wasn't that good enough? Yumi had to admit that it was. She felt Shishio's coarse hand tickling her bare, smooth back, travelling lower...

Then came a loud, resounding rap at the wooden door.

Shishio yanked his 'travelling' hand off Yumi. Yumi gave a vehement groan and leaned back against the bath wall, biting her lip in crushed expectations.

Shishio quickly bandaged himself, tying it off expertly. He had been doing this for several good years now; he accomplished the task in less than a minute. Yumi sprang out of the bath and quickly toweled herself down, slipping on her flowing dress.

"Who is it?" Shishio called impatiently, angry at the disturbance. If it was Senkaku, he was going to bash his lumpy egg-shaped head in.

"Shishio-san? It's Soujirou, with what you wanted."

Shishio felt his anger dissipating like the steam escaping from his body. "Perfect," he murmured, licking his lips in anticipation of what was going to happen. He would love seeing the lengendary Battousai kneeling at his feet.

TO BE CONTINUED

Author's Note: Tired... stupid ol' homework... --; The next chapter will be out in a few days!

-Twilight Sky