Author's Note: And here it (finally) is. This story isn't my first priority, so it's going to take a little while to update. But it will be updated. Eventually. I promise.

Disclaimer: My name is Sakura Tsukikage, not Nobuhiro Watsuki. If I were Nobuhiro Watsuki, I'd be drawing, not writing.

Part Two:

The rurouni is stronger than he looks, for he carries the buckets of tofu back with no effort at all when Io would have been sweating and exhausted by the time she returned home. He is quiet on the way, but Io chatters, glad to have someone to talk to who actually listens and doesn't tell her not to be foolish, or that little girls shouldn't be so loud, or not to talk right now, I'm busy. Instead, the rurouni smiles and asks her questions and listens, even when she talks about things that don't really matter, like the patterns the shadows of the clouds make on the surface of the road. The rurouni is good at listening, not too quiet and not too loud, and she's never met an adult who treated her like what she said was interesting before.

They're getting close to home when Io lets the thread of conversation twist off into the wind. They walk in silence for a few moments, until she asks, "Did I talk too much? Am I bothering you?"

The rurouni smiles and shakes his head. "Not at all, Io-dono. Sessha thinks your conversation is very interesting, de gozaru yo."

"Really?" Io blinks, surprised. She's never expected an adult to say anything like that to her.

"Really," the rurouni replies. He stares off into the cloud-covered sky for a moment, then says, so quietly Io almost misses it, "Sessha has missed talking."

And Io thinks that is sad. She wonders what happened to the rurouni to make him so lonely, because she doesn't think he should have to be. "Will you stay with us for supper, Rurouni-niisan?" she asks as they approach her house.

He looks down at her and shakes her head, red hair flopping down into his face. "Sessha couldn't impose on your family like that, Io-dono."

Io shifts uneasily from foot to foot. "It wouldn't be an imposition," she tells him, and it's almost true. If haha-ue isn't there, Masato-jichan won't mind if they have a guest. And haha-ue is visiting Kimiko-basan so she probably won't be there.

The rurouni shakes his head anyway. "Gomen nasai, Io-dono. Sessha . . ." he takes a deep breath, and there is a tremor in that voice somewhere. "Sessha can't."

Io can't let it go at that. The rurouni is thin and tired, and he looks like he needs food, and she doesn't want him to go so soon, not when she's enjoying his company so much and he's the first adult who's ever really talked to her since ani-ue . . . died. "Please, rurouni-niisan?" she asks. "Please?" Haha-ue would frown and tell her not to be so rude, but the rurouni doesn't. He just smiles a little, and for a moment Io thinks he is going to reach down and touch her, but then he withdraws his hand and rests his slender, too-pale fingers on the edge of the tofu bucket. They clench tightly against the rough wood, the only sign of any sort of emotion that he exhibits at all.

"S-sessha—" he says uncertainly, stammering a little, "sessha couldn't, Io-dono."

Io shakes her head. "Iya, Rurouni-niisan. Stay for dinner. Eat with us." She grabs his hand and drags him along after her, determined that this time he's not going to succeed in putting her off.

"Oro?" the rurouni says, sounding surprised, but he leaves his hand in hers. His fingers are slender and thin, his skin chill, rough and chapped and callused against her own softer palm. His hand seems to fit well clasped in hers, and Io thinks again that the rurouni is awfully small for a grown-up man. "Io-dono," the rurouni says, protesting, but he is laughing a little. It is the first time she's heard him laugh at all, and Io thinks he should do it more often.

"Come on," she says. "Masato-jichan is a great cook," she adds after a moment in a coaxing tone.

The rurouni shakes his head, and his hand relaxes in hers. "Sessa concedes," he says lightly. "Sessha will eat dinner at Io-dono's house."

Glossary: More fun with Japanese . . . .

jichan--affectionate term for uncle, often used for any older man a person is close with

basan--term of aunt, often used for any older woman