The revised Chapter Two. I'm literally six days away from walking during my graduation ceremony. I'm done. I'm out. So, you guys get updates.

"Officer Fujita," A woman addressed the former Shinsengumi sharply. Her face was aged, but there was a youthful aura about her. She wore a dark kimono with a neutral obi and short sleeves, but the police officer was too sharp to take her for a mere housewife.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he laced long fingers together under his chin.

"Perhaps you can. I'm looking for someone, a young man," The woman said, her voice strong. Fujita Goro's lips twitched into a frown.

"I do not ordinarily handle missing persons," he said, sitting back and reaching into a desk drawer.

"I understand that," she said, wrinkling her nose slightly in disgust as Fujita brought a cigarette to his lips and lit it expertly. "However, I have heard that you are excellent at finding people nonetheless."

"Is that so?" Fujita leaned back.

"Yes, sir. I need the best right now. My son went missing twenty-one years ago. I have reason to believe that he was sold into slavery."

Fujita sighed, leaning forward. There were several slave traders they were still after; if she had information, they could need it. He pulled a sheet of paper and a pen from a drawer. "What reasons do you have to believe this?"

"I lived in a village with my husband and son a bit more than twenty years ago. Inumuzi was a quiet village, but it was struck hard with cholera one year. My husband was dead early on, and I was very ill. When I awoke, I was laying on a futon in a cabin in the woods. A man named Niitsu Kaunoshin had nursed me back to health after discovering me struggling against a group of slavers who had also just discovered that I was alive. When I asked where my son was, he told me that all of the children in that village had been taken by another group of slavers almost three days before, and that I had no chance of finding them." She took a deep breath, and Fujita was impressed with the dignity with which she restrained the glisten in her eyes. "I was hoping that, in the Meiji Era, I could find my son…"

"You realize, miss, that he could very easily have been killed in the war?" Fujita asked, sitting back again, disappointed by the lack of helpful information.

"I know he wasn't. Shinta was a sweet boy; he would have never joined the war effort. He'd have stayed as far away as humanly possible!" The woman said.

Fujita sighed. He would file a report anyway, for the woman's sake. "Your name, Miss?"

"Himura Emiko."'

Fujita's head snapped up from the paper to meet her eyes. The woman seemed surprised and raised an eyebrow. "Repeat that?" he demanded.

"Himura Emiko," The woman said again, this time almost unsure.

"Himura?"

"Yes, sir." The woman said. Fujita's eyes dropped back to the paper. He wanted to massage his temples to alleviate the headache that had just exploded behind his eyes.

"And your son's name?"

"Himura Shinta." Fujita's eyes closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew the name. He knew the person. Finally he sat back.

"Tell me about this boy," Fujita said with a sigh. "What does he look like?"

"Well, Shinta is a quiet boy. He always was a pacifist, but very good with his hands. I always imagined that he would get a job working as an artisan, a crafter. Perhaps a painter? He never looked down on anyone, ever. His heart was so big, and he was always open." She said, her eyes misting. "He was a small boy, so I don't imagine he would grow to be very big, even at twenty-eight, thin framed, but quick as a flash. He had the most unusual red hair, though, and sweet, violet eyes."

It didn't take much convincing, but her description was utterly unmistakable.

"Himura-san, I know where your son is," He said. Emiko's expression suddenly turned into one of shock. Her eyes were wide.

"You… you do? My baby… where is he?"

"Himura-san, please," He held up a hand to quiet her. Her shocked expression took on a hint of worry. "Himura-san, your son is not the boy you remember," Fujita said. "I'm afraid that if you are looking for a warm, open, loving young man, you will be disappointed. Himura is colder, despite his vow to protect everyone and their dog with that infernal sword of his."

"Sword!" Emiko gasped. "Shinta-chan would never—you must be thinking of the wrong man…" she trailed off.

"Miss, tell me: how many 29 year old men in Japan have red hair and violet eyes?" Fujita asked intently, once again lacing his fingers and resting his chin on them.

The woman's expression turned to nervous acceptance. "Where… where is my son?" she asked softly.

"He is at the Kamiya Dojo, near the edge of town," Fujita said as he stood, taking his coat from a peg on the wall behind him. "Come, I will give you a ride."

"I… appreciate it." The woman bowed. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Fujita muttered, striding out the door. Emiko followed, head held high despite her inner turmoil.

The carriage ride seemed short, and before they knew it, the pair was outside the gates of the Kamiya Dojo. Saito reached forward and pounded heavily three times. There was a shouting from behind the tall, plastered walls. Finally, the heavy wooden gate was slowly opened by a young boy with mussed hair.

"Oi! What are you doing here, Wolf!" He demanded, though he hesitated in reaching for his shinai at the sight of the woman next to him. "Who is she?"

"Your teacher obviously places no emphasis on courtesy," Fujita said, pushing the door open more. Kaoru emerged from the dojo, sweating from exertion. Kenshin followed, his eyes narrowed slightly at the tall form of the former Wolf of Mibu.

"What can we help you with, Saito-san?" he asked cordially, if a bit icily. Last time the man showed up unexpectedly, Kenshin almost lost himself. There was a pause as his heart sank into his stomach, he recalled the feeling he had gotten earlier that morning, the one that told him something was going to happen.

"Don't panic, Battosai, I'm just here to bring a family together," Saito finished with a mockingly heartfelt tone. Kenshin raised an eyebrow, his eyes settling on the woman who stood next to Saito. The former hitokiri's eyes met the woman's.

Emiko stood, utterly shocked. Her heart pounded and her throat was dry. There… God, my son is alive! Emiko emitted a tiny gasp as she took in his features: the age-weary eyes, the scar on his face… the sword at his side. Without warning, she collapsed. Saito, already half expecting this, caught her before she fell to the ground.

"Well? Where can I set her, or should I drop her right here?" he asked at the shocked looks of everyone else. Kaoru jumped, but instructed him to a room. She opened the door to one of the unused guest rooms and quickly folded out the futon. Saito lay the woman down and allowed Kaoru to cover her up.

Kenshin and Yahiko followed. After a moment of silence, Kaoru spoke.

"Who is she?" she asked softly. Saito raised an eyebrow and looked at Kenshin, whose eyes were firmly fixed on the unconscious woman's face.

"Ask him," He said, jerking his chin in the redhead's direction, before sweeping out of the room, house and dojo. He snapped at the carriage driver to get back to the police station; he had paperwork to do.

Meanwhile, Kaoru and Yahiko stared at Kenshin, who hadn't so much as blinked in quite a while.

"Kenshin?" Kaoru asked softly. Startled, Kenshin looked at her, his eyes still distant. "Kenshin, who is this?"

"God..." Kenshin choked out as he dropped to his knees. Kaoru was stunned into speechlessness, as was Yahiko, when a dark spot appeared on the floor between Kenshin's knees.

They watched in shock as the former Hitokiri began crying.