Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me but to Nobouhiro Watsuki. I am merely borrowing it for entertainment purposes. I am not getting any money or any other profit from this.

Chapter 6

A matter of power

The sound of the shoji door was barely registered by the Okashira's wife. No matter how careful her silent husband had been, she had been able to acknowledge his absence. Omnitsu skills or not, he could not fool Misao: the girl who would worship his every move. She had learned by heart the quiet sound of his steps and could recognize his silhouette blindfolded in a dark room; she had memorized the rhythm of his breathing and his smell of green tea mixed with burning wood. If Buddha were alive, she was sure he would smell like him… they would both smell like the insides of a Kyoto temple. A bitter smile appeared in her lips in a ghost like way… Now they were both gone… again.

It had been sixteen hours since the Tenken's arrival and she already wanted to run to his room and choke him in his sleep. She pictured him there defenceless: sprawled over the futon with his arms behind his head completely asleep: the perfect victim ready to be punished for ruining Shinomori Misao's first day as the Okashira's wife… nothing like a former Juppon Gatana assassin. Then the words "former Juppon Gatana" ringed in the back of her mind, reminding her he was not and average kid and that most probably he would be immersed in a light rest of which he could come out any minute like most swordsmen to defend himself from any kind of attack and probably (she had learned this as a member of the Onniwabanshuu) most importantly to avoid nightmares. She pictured him then sitting with his back against the wall holding his katana with his head down and chose not to disturb Seta Soujirou. It was the wisest choice for someone who appreciated his own life.

She turned her back to the shoji door and tried not to think more about the assassin sleeping inside what used to be her room but it was hard not to wonder why, of all the rooms in the Aoiya he had to be there. She also wondered why Aoshi had made that choice. Her ninja instincts suggested that he wanted to keep the Tenken under supervision but that didn't explain why he had chosen the room on the right instead of the one on the left.

Misao opened widely her eyes at the sound of china crashing to the floor followed by a sofa gomen nasai which she was easily able to relate to Okon. "Another great morning…" she thought, but what surprised her the most was the sight of a certain smiling boy offering sheepishly his help to clean up the mess.

"It was my fault" he was saying "I came out of nowhere and since you are not quite used to my being here…" he said as he picked a particularly big piece "… it is perfectly understandable that I scared you."

Okon nodded silently and put her hand between the Tenken's and the tray. "I will do it" Okon, as cheerful as she always was, also knew what her role was at the Aoiya, and when it came to serving either of the Shinomori, she was always submissive "You are the Okashira's guest after all."

"Very well then…" he grinned "but I promise to replace Misao-san's china as soon as I can, and of course her kunai…" his smile grew even wider as he not–so– accidentally unfolded a white piece of fabric revealing such weapons "… which are now completely ruined."

Never before had Misao regretted so much the frustration of one of her plans. Those kunai would have worked their magic on the Tenken's neck. Nevertheless, the boy had been able to discover it before its execution. From this fact, she could derive at least three questions that bothered her greatly. The first was, quite obviously, how had the kid been able to find out that she had been hiding her kunai in the tea tray? She had been extremely careful and discrete. Kami! She discharged the theory of someone in the Aoiya telling him without even considering it. She trusted every member of the Onniwabanshuu with her life; and matters involving the Tenken, she knew, always had a life or death nature. Okon, furthermore, had been an excellent actress: she had portrayed submission, but not fear or nervousness… or anything that could have led him into discovering her intentions for that matter.

The next question was derived from his reaction. He had always been exasperatingly polite – sometimes even to the point of reaching stupidity – which could justify his suggestion of replacing the broken items. The question was not why but how. Since his arrival, the Tenken had not said or done anything that could imply that he had some source of income or job, so how was he going to acquire a new set for tea and kunai? As far as she knew Shishio's state had burnt to ashes so there was no way Soujiro could have inherited much but his madness and a broken sword. Was he still a murderer? She preferred to leave those thoughts aside; even if she wouldn't say it, she feared the Tenken greatly. She was a good member of the Shinomori clan now…fearing but never telling appeared to be their motto. See? She was a Shinomori, so why did he keep calling her Misao-san when she had made it perfectly clear that she found it disrespectful.

She sighed tiredly and passed through both into the yard not feeling hungry anymore and acknowledging an urge to go outside and hit the first thing she found… and so she did: The Tenken had that effect on her.

Bastard

For some reason, practicing kempo against the trees had stopped being enough. She remembered that was something she used to do since she was a kid. The light image of her three year old self kicking the biggest tree at the Aoiya back garden after being deprived of the joy of having sweet mochi for dinner, drew out a sad smile on her face.

"Having too much of something will bring you nothing but pain Misao-chan" Hannya had told her.

"But what if I really really want it?" She had said.

"That will make the pain even worse".

Hannya had been a wise man: always had the right thing to say or do to make her tears stop and her sadness go away; still, he had never been able to make her smile. No, her smiles were reserved only for her Aoshi-sama; they still were. What would Hannya say if he could see her now?. He would probably laugh behind that scary mask of his and pat her on the shoulder while nodding knowingly and he would whisper a prudent advice. He could see him in her mind; she just couldn't listen to the words.

Soujiro put his right geta on before stepping outside the Aoiya into the streets of Kyoto silently as usual. He smiled quietly as he realized he kept the samurai tradition of starting everything with the left side: he would unfold the left side of the gi, cover his left leg with the hakama, put the left tabi and geta always first… which was weird considering the Tenken's personality. He had always been ceremonious but the meaning of the ritual was actually the opposite of what the boy appeared.

The left side stood for the heart; giving it priority meant involving one's heart, and in Seta Soujiro's case, the heart had little to do in just about everything he did. His every move was always perfectly planned by a cold, calculating mind. Only Himura Kenshin had been able to break his focus and that had nearly cost him his life. Never before had his feelings overcome his intellect and he swore to himself it would not ever happen again.

Yes, the Tenken no longer took Shishio Makoto's philosophy as Kami's word, nor he did believe in it blindly as he used to… now he had a motto of his own, one that would grant him survival.

End of chapter 6

Author's Notes: So sorry! I know it took me forever to update. I hope you like this chappie! If you have any comments or questions feel free to leave a review or send an e-mail to