Umm... Hi. It's been a while. I'll spare you the intricacies of my personal life and leave you without an exuse. Suffice it to say things sucked for a long time, but everything's ok now. Hopefully I can get back to fanfiction seeing as it makes me happy. Sorry for making you wait so long. I suck. And for all those reviewers begging me to tell them that Kaoru didn't die... I'm sorry about that too...

Disclaimer: It's a damn good thing I don't own Kenshin. Look what I did to him!

Misao sat on her porch carefully working yarn into a blanket. Winter was coming closer, and with so many little ones in her care she could never have enough of the delicately crafted material. The sun had only risen a few hours before, birds were still singing in the trees, and the lake was clear and calm before her. She hummed a small tune to herself and did her best to forget that her country was still in the midst of a bloody war with Kyoto. In the distance she could see someone approaching down the small dirt path that led to her door. She thought at first it was a drunk as he staggered back and forth along the lane. It wasn't until he fell into a heap 100 yards from her, that she recognized who the man was. The sun reflected off his bright red hair.

"Aoshi!"

When he woke, he was unsure of where he was. He was unsure of anything. Wasn't he supposed to be fighting? Where was the tent? Where were his swords? He lie on the futon in the unfamiliar room and looked around. His sword lie on the ground at the foot of the bedding. There were cherry trees outside; their gentle scent came wafting to him. And it all came back. He bolted upright.

Misao looked over to Aoshi in their small kitchen. The cheery laughter of the children playing in the yard gave the scene a pleasant atmosphere, but a heavy cloud hung over the two adults.

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Physically, he will be fine. Mentally, however..." Aoshi turned his head and looked at the ground. Misao brought her small hands to her face.

"Do you think that Kaoru... That she..."

"There was fresh soil on his fingers and blood all over his clothing. I believe that she has moved into the other world." And as if to confirm his suspiscions, from the guest room where they had placed Kenshin to rest came an anguished scream. It was choked off, broken by sobs. And then came another, and another. The grief radiated from the room in waves; they could actually feel it from their place in the kitchen. The laughter of the children had stopped. Aoshi stood and made his way toward the broken man. He hesitated outside the door.

"NOOOO! KAORUUU!" More sobs. Aoshi rapped lightly on the door frame.

"Kenshin?" He tested. More unintelligable words, garbled and run together.

"I'm coming in." He slid the door open with a snap. Kenshin was on his knees bent almost to the floor with his face in his hands. He looked slowly up at Aoshi.

"She's gone," he whispered.

"Yes," Aoshi replied.

"She told me to come here when she was dying in my arms. There is something of mine here. She insited with her last breath.But I couldn't come right away. I had to bury her. I had to put her to rest under the tree we used to practice under. Oh god, Kaoru."

"Yes," he repeated, "You'll need to pull yourself together and come with me." Kenshin tiredly gathered himself up. Aoshi had changed him from his bloody clothes to one of his own yukatas. It was too long in the sleeves and hem, and the belt was wrapped around him twice. He felt very small in it. He slid his reverse blade sword into its place at his side and followed Aoshi around to the opposite end of the house. Kenshin's eyes widened when they arrived at the part of the porch that overlooked the area the children played in. Among Misao and Aoshi's young ones, was a small boy about five years old. He had a full head of bright red hair.

"Kenji, please come over here." The small boy ran over and looked timidly up at Kenshin. The older man fell to his knees in front of the child. He had Kaoru's big blue eyes. Kenshin's hand went up to his small face and traced the outline of a faded scar cut into an X on his cheek. His eyes shot to Aoshi for an explaination.

"Saito," he whispered. Saito had tried to dispose of his son. He had tried to turn him into a slave like his father. But he wasn't. He was saved. He was in front of him, staring confused into his eyes. The tiny red headed boy was Kaoru's gift to him.

"Are you Kenshin?" he asked. Kenshin just stared.

"Are you? You have red hair just like mother said you would. Are you my father?" He nodded dumbly as the boy threw his arms around him. Kenshin quickly returned the hug.

"My son," he whispered.

"I knew you'd come back one day. I knew you would." Kenshin buried his face in his son's small shoulder, and cried.

Misao stood with Aoshi on her front porch. Kenshin was walking away with her former charge Kenji in his arms. Their red hair glinted like fire in the dying sunlight as they made their way down the path Kenshin had barely staggered up that morning. Misao's children clung to her skirt, and Aoshi wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She sniffed back some tears.

"Will they be alright?" she asked, looking up at him. His gaze stayed fixed on the road.

"I don't know for sure. Battousai the Manslayer is dead now. All that's left is a man who is tired of war and slavery, a man who wants nothing more than for his son to live in peace and happiness."

"You really think so?"

"Yes." She returned her eyes to the two retreating figures.

"Then I think they'll be just fine."

A/N: Well... That's it. The End. Maybe I'll write an epilouge. I have one cooked up in my haed but I'm not sure if it really needs one. Shoot me a review. Hopefully my next story won't take 3 years to finish.