Disclaimer: Just using the characters for my mere entertainment. And hopefully yours.

shinai – kendo sword made of split bamboo

Over the Sky
Chapter Two

She sipped her water peacefully, seated across from him, who at this moment, wished he could have worn something better besides the cloak he was in. It wasn't clean, let alone convincing.

"So, Seta-san—"

"Soujiro, please." He smiled, noticing how uncomfortable his gaze made her. It was a regular reaction and he was used to it. That is not say, however, he never tried making his expressions more lifelike.

As it is, old habits die hard.

"Soujiro," she corrected, letting the name roll across her lips. "How can I help you?"

"I'd like a place to stay for awhile, if it's not too much trouble."

Her face brightened and he unwillingly felt the edge of his mouth twitch upwards. "Not at all! It gets quite lonely with only Yahiko's arrogant personality around." She grinned at a spiked hair child in the corner when he gave her a loud unmannered snort.

Soujiro nodded appreciatively, shuffling through the many folds of his cloak before taking out a small bag of the little money he had accumulated over the years. "I'll be willing to offer compensation too, though I'm sorry to say it's not much." He extended the sack towards her.

Surprised, but obviously touched, she shook her head. "I don't need pay. I've burdened a good number of free loaders over the time. Your company is good enough."

He was surprised, unused to such kindness. Using his chopsticks, he grabbed held of something on his plate that looked a bit overcooked. "That's very nice of you but—"

"Don't bother trying to reason with her," the boy, who was now getting up to wash his dishes, retorted, ignoring the dojo owner's glare. "She's too stubborn to listen to anyone."

"Shut up, Yahiko," she spat venomously under her breath before turning to him with a forced smile, "Come, I'll show you to your room. Yahiko, go fetch the spare futon from outside."

Mumbling things under his breath that Soujiro could unmistakably pick out, he left the kitchen, not without a snarl. It was and odd relationship that those two had. They were clearly not related—the boy was far too tan skinned, his features were rougher than her delicately constructed ones, and he often referred to the woman as 'buso' (which Soujiro thought she definitely wasn't). He didn't think, even with his lack of knowledge on the subject, that brothers called sisters such things.

Standing up, she dusted off imaginary dirt from her bright pink kimono. A color, in his opinion, that did not suit her. White would have looked better. Silk white, with navy sakura petals cascading down the sides.

He would have to remember to buy one for her.

"So," he started as they walked into halls and then continued to walk through them. The floor beneath him was polished to a golden shine, and he could hear her nervous shuffling ahead of him. "Is there anyone else aside from me 'burdening' your acquaintance?"

"There's this ex-fighter for higher that drops by every once and awhile."

He couldn't help but look at her quizzically, and she laughed at his expression.

"I get that a lot," she continued, "but he's really a nice guy. A little rough around the outside, but a real softy. He denies it though. And then there is . . ." He immediately noticed how her eyes fell desolately at her feet.

"Was," someone corrected her, and they both turned to see the boy again, holding what he was told to get neatly folded under his arm. "There was a rurouni who left here two years ago. And I doubt he's coming back." He roughly walked past them, sliding open a door nearby, dropping the bed in before leaving them both for the second time.

He felt guilty for starting up such a melancholy subject. He felt even worse when he looked at her crestfallen face beneath her forced happiness. Her face wasn't meant for a frown.

"This is your room," she explained, pointing to a partly open door, "and mine is just across. So if you need anything, feel free to ask."

He simply stared at her, as she avoided his gaze. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go train for a bit." With a bow she left him alone in the dim lit room.

Her kendo sword cut through the air precisely. With one swift motion, she jabbed forward before continuing her pattern. Her footing was strong and steps were soft. Sweat glistened in the afternoon sun and her brow furrowed further as she progressed on with her strenuous, but worthwhile training.

Kaoru wanted—no, strived—to be strong.

Something pricked her sense and without mere thought or hesitation, she threw the baton behind her, having sensed an intruder standing near the sliding door. With swift motion, she turned around, ready to snap at whoever dared to shatter her solitude . . .

. . . and found Soujiro's beaming face instead, holding her kendo sword nonchalantly in his hand. "You knew I was here," he uttered surprised, the genial smile never leaving his face.

Flushed from embarrassment—because it was usually Yahiko who pried at her while training—Kaoru mutely took back her shinai, careful to avoid brushing his fingers, and then pushed back navy bangs that stuck to her forehead. She felt almost ashamed at her current state—disheveled hair, wrinkled clothing.

"I'm so sorry," she started frantically, out of breath.

Soujiro simply shook his head, his short locks shaking slightly in the air, "Oh, no need to apologize. I was the one, after all, intruding where I shouldn't have."

"But Souj—"

He lifted his hand politely, cutting her off, "No 'but's, Kaoru. I will not tolerate my rude behavior, and neither you nor anyone else should either. I will wash the laundry for you from now on."

"You really don't—"

Kaoru's guest grinned boyishly. "No? Not enough? How about the dishes too?"

Her mouth instantly closed shut, ceasing her attempts at protest, when she realized what was taking place. Had she continued trying to make him understand that doing those chores was totally unnecessary at especially the rate they were going, he would have ended up rebuilding the dojo altogether—something that she couldn't let him do, even if the dojo was in need of minor tune-ups.

A heavy silence hung in the air afterwards, Kaoru with no idea at what to do besides stand there more or less boring holes into the spotless wooden floors. They stood like that—Soujiro and her—for a few long minutes, she knowing of his eyes that were on her, he only smiling brighter at her constant fidgeting.

"Your fighting style . . . " he spoke so abruptly that she couldn't help but freeze in spot, looking shyly at him through her lashes.

"The Kamiya Kasshin-Ryu, is it not? A series of succession techniques and created with the notion of protecting others."

Surprised at his observation and familiarity, she wordlessly agreed. She grew even more rigid when he began circulating her, a finger massaging his chin as someone in deep thought would do. "Very effective, I'll agree. But . . . "

"But?" The word was like acid. To know something was wrong with her sword skills always made her livid. Kaoru's brow furrowed, glancing at the kendo sword in her grasp, loosening the tight grip she didn't realize she was holding.

He gently took the shinai from her, copying her exact stance. "You see," he started, coherently, "your first jab is at good speed." and he poked the air effortlessly at a velocity he didn't realize amazed Kaoru, "it's when you do your second one—that's a little slow. Exact repetition is the key to chain attacks."

With a small grin Soujiro tapped her shoulder with the sword before handing it back. "Slightly obvious to the opponent. It's pretty useless then—isn't it?—if your enemy can predict your moves to continue on fighting?"

"I guess so . . . " The analysis was logical and above all correct, so she nodded before speaking something that swirled in her mind, smiling curiously, "You seem to know a lot about swordsmanship, Soujiro."

He waved dismissively at her comment, laughing a sound that echoed tenfold in the vast space of her dojo. "Of course not. It's only human nature to criticize. I'm not very good actually. Maybe we should spar sometime? I could only hope that you would go easy on me." He gave her a playful wink before disappearing outside.

Kaoru stood, rooted to her spot, listening to his quiet footsteps walkaway. They were light, barely audible footsteps . . . just like Kenshin's had been. The similarities between them scared her. After all, she hadn't questioned Soujiro about his past when he requested permission to stay, for undecidedly how long, at her home.

Maybe her new guest had hidden secrets too. Maybe he harbored some terrible bloodshed that stained his hands as well.

Or maybe she was just missing Kenshin too much. With a sigh, she turned to proceed with training.

After all, what was the likelihood of someone with great sword skill living under the same roof as her once again?

Nani ni akogarete
Dare wo omou no ka
Inochi kakeru sugata
Sukitooru utsukushisa ni
Kotoba wo nonda

By what are you desired
And of whom do you think?
Your life-risking form
Drank words
In transparent beauty

To Be Continued . . .

A/n: Thank you greatly for your encouraging words. My deepest apologies for how long it took me to get this chapter out. With final exams, cousins visiting from Arizona, a paragraph or two were all I was able to manage. But, it's summer now, so expect faster updates . . . hopefully.