Chapter 3: Symbiosis

1878—Tokyo

The building he'd stopped in had been deserted. It didn't quite have the feeling of being abandoned, but no one was there, and he needed rest. He sat crouched in a darkened corner of the large room, his eyes constantly alert, roaming to the windows and doorway to be certain he would not be taken by surprise.

He ran one hand along the smooth wood floor. Lifted his hand and looked at it. Kuso. It was clean. This place definitely wasn't abandoned. In disrepair to some extent, but still cared for. Someone would be coming home. He'd have to take care to avoid them if he didn't want another fight.

So much for rest.

Even so, he managed to fall into a light sleep, leaning against the wall. He wasn't sure how long he stayed there before the owner came home, but the moment he heard footsteps, his eyes sprung open and he was on his feet, his right hand tight against the hilt of his katana.

He willed the person to pass this building. To go about some other chores, so he could leave in peace, but the footsteps grew closer, and Himura was forced to prepare. Silently he eased toward the large door, placing himself next to it, so he'd be able to attack the moment it opened.

He didn't have to wait long. The steps approached and stopped only a moment before daylight streamed into the room as the door slid open.

Himura tensed, ready to draw when he suddenly recognized the ki, and he let the blade drop.

She stood in the doorway. The same girl from earlier that day. The one he'd stopped to help. So, it was her dojo he'd slipped into.

He noted the clean floor and lack of names on the wall.

Figured...

She stepped inside, glancing around, and for once he didn't know what to do. He couldn't attack her. What would have been the point of saving her life, then? So he just stared foolishly at her as she turned in his direction.

There was a moment of complete silence as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then she suddenly realized that she was looking into someone's face and screamed, drawing her bokken with surprising speed, even with her shoulder injured, and swinging it at his head.

The redhead barely managed to block it with his arm.

She was fast. And she wasn't stopping...

"What are you doing here? Who are you? Get out of my dojo!" she screamed, swinging the bokken with practiced moves. Excellent form for one who wanted to go about life swinging a toy sword. Not so helpful against one of the most skilled men of Bakumatsu.

He blocked every move, backing out of the shadows and into the light. Finally, after one swing almost landed, he caught the next in the palm of his hand, wrenched the bokken from her grip and flung it across the room.

The wooden sword struck the wall and clattered uselessly against the polished floor.

"Stop hitting me," he snapped in a cold voice. "If this is how you treat all of your guests it's no wonder you have no students," he motioned to the nearly bare wall.

She stared at him, breathing hard, her anger at his outburst and insult clearly struggling to outweigh her fear. He had to respect that throughout her entire frenzied attack, she'd never succumbed completely to panic. She'd moved skillfully, even if it had been useless against him...

"You..." she whispered finally. "You're the boy from the market. The one who..." She shook her head as though to clear it, remaining on the defensive. "What are you doing here? Why are you following me?"

He snorted. "Following? I've been here awhile now. Didn't realize it was your dojo..." He wearily rubbed his eyes. "I just needed a place to rest."

"They have inns for that, you know," she commented finally relaxing. Managing to amuse him again.

He graced her with a small smile. "Yes, well... I ruined all chances of staying at an inn when the police saw my swords earlier, didn't I?" He watched her cheeks flush guiltily, as she realized what he was getting at.

"Oh..." She blinked at him a couple of times, surprised by sudden realization that in saving her, he'd nearly condemned himself. "I didn't... I'm sorry." She shook her head, tearing her eyes from the intensity of his gaze. "I never did get to properly thank you for what you did."

He shrugged, immediately uncomfortable, and turned away. "I don't want thanks."

A flicker of annoyance passed over her face. "Please. I'm trying to express my gratitude. I don't even know your name--"

"Himura..." he replied, cutting her short. "Himura Kenshin."

"And I am Kamiya Kaoru--"

Again, he cut her off, feeling uncharacteristically awkward around this girl. "You've thanked me now, so I'll be leaving." He stepped past her toward the open doors. Then hesitated. He wasn't particularly looking forward to having to sleep outside again. Especially since it was only late April, which meant he had a bit of waiting before he could meet up with his assigned partner and finish the job.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, drawing his surprised attention back to her. "You could stay here for awhile... if you needed to. It's the least I can do. I don't have much, but—"

"I'm not a charity case," he snapped, unnerved by the way she'd nearly read his mind. "Anyway, I have business to attend to here, and then I'm leaving. I won't be in Tokyo long."

"Then stay until your business is done. It wouldn't be charity. If you won't take my gratitude, then you could work for your keep. I mean, you're obviously good with a sword. You could help me run the dojo; help recruit and train—"

"No." His voice was flat. Definite.

"What?"

"I will train no one. Especially not in a style other than my own. No."

"But--"

Again he turned his attention outside. Clouds were moving in, obscuring the sun. And honestly, it was still a bit cold. He considered. Only a few weeks... and he didn't have to let her get involved... "I'll work for my keep, but not like that." He looked around again at the old dojo. "I can fix this place up. Cook. Shop. Clean. Whatever." His voice was flat. It was a business deal. Nothing more.

She blinked at him in surprise. "Really? You can cook?"

"I'm not completely useless," he growled, causing her to flush.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped back, her hands twitching into fists.

What was that all about? He didn't grace her with an answer, instead changing the subject. "How is your wound?" He motioned to her shoulder, where the yukata was torn and stained red.

She was still steaming at his comment about cooking, so her answer was sharp, even though she seemed to recognize the slightly gentler tone his voice had taken. "It was wrapped up at the police office." She finally stepped past him sliding the door shut behind them, then turned and walked further into her dojo, taking a seat. "I had to go there and explain what happened. I tried to get them to at least understand that you hadn't been the one who'd hurt me."

Stiffly, he took a seat beside her, trying to feel as though perhaps he at least somewhat belonged, uncertain and suspicious about why she had defended him. "And the man who attacked you?"

"The police arrested him. They were even willing to forget about your swords, since you helped catch Battousai." She turned wide eyes to him. "He's a killer, you know," she said, her voice falling to a hushed whisper.

Himura snorted. "Hitokiri generally are."

She shook her head. "I don't mean just that. He appeared in Tokyo about a week ago, murdering people in my family's name. Claiming to kill with the Kamiya Kasshin style of swordsmanship. There was no method to his murders. He just killed at random. Men and women. Anyone..." Her eyes had dropped to her hands, and she missed the deadly glint in the redhead's eyes.

"Then you should have just let me kill him. It would have been quick and clean... more than he deserved."

"No!" she exclaimed, alarmed again, her violent mood swings, disorienting him. "It isn't right. A sword is meant to protect, not kill. That is the Kamiya Kasshin style. If I'd have let you kill him to protect our name, you would have tainted it anyway."

His expression didn't change, except for a slight, frustrated twitch of his eyebrow. "Swords aren't for killing? Then tell me, what are your swords meant to protect people from?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously, intriguing him. Reminding him why he'd been interested enough in the marketplace to stop and help this girl. "Don't mock my father's ideals! One day swords won't be needed at all. But until then, they should be used in the defense of the weak. Can't you understand that?"

They had been sitting underneath the stars near a small shack in the woods, the large swordsman and his small, red haired deshi. As usual, it had been the older man who'd been speaking. "Hiten Mitsurugi is a powerful sword technique. If used incorrectly, it could slaughter hundreds. Thousands. And they would never know what happened." The swordsmaster took a long swig from his sake jug, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing. "This, Kenshin, is exactly why this technique must never fall into the wrong hands. The only hands that should control your skills are your own, and you must use Hiten Mitsurugi to protect the weak. Those who are unable to protect themselves. Do you understand, Kenshin?"

The boy had nodded his head, his wide, lavender eyes fixed upon his mentor. "Yes, Shishou. I understand..."

Kaoru's voice suddenly broke into his thoughts, bringing him back into the present. "When I was a child, I remember people talking about Battousai." Her voice had a soft, frightened quality, as though she were recounting a ghost story. "They said he was such a deadly hitokiri because he was really a demon. That his very glance could kill." She laughed it off, but the fear didn't quite leave her eyes. "We used to be told that he would come for us if we misbehaved. People stopped talking about him after the war, so of course I just assumed that he was only a story meant to scare us into being good. I never realized..."

Himura scowled. "That man was not Battousai," he said sharply, drawing her startled gaze.

She just stared at him. "How do you know? He might have been. Most of the men who actually would have seen Battousai are dead now. Anyway, why should he lie about it?"

"For fame. For fear." He shrugged, looking away. "It wouldn't be the first time. I've been traveling a long time, and I've seen many such impostors. And he is an imposter. He is no hitokiri. There is a difference between a true hitokiri and a murderer. It's a fine line, and these days, most of those few who survived the revolution have crossed it, and paid the price. But even now, we all have our skills, and we certainly wouldn't become as sloppy as that baka." Unconsciously, he pressed his hand to the single scar running vertically down his face.

She blinked up at him in surprise. "We?"

He looked away, refusing to make eye contact. "I fought the revolution. In those days, we all fought for the same cause. Hitokiri or no, we had the same goals, none of us more shameful than the others..." He trailed off realizing that the girl was just staring at him now. "What?"

"You were in the revolution? Just how old are you?"

He stared at her, not quite comprehending for a moment that she was actually asking his age. "Thirty. Why? What does that have to do with anything?"

Her jaw dropped, and she looked about ready to fall over. "Thirty? No way! That isn't possible! With that face?"

He turned away again, something sad and dark in his eyes, and she fell silent. That look he'd had just then. It had convinced her where none of his words ever would have. Yes, he'd been a part of the revolution. She'd only seen eyes like that in the few old revolutionaries she'd met in her short life. It was almost unnerving how his eyes shifted from the frightening amber they had been earlier to this sad deep blue.

"Is that where you got that scar?" she asked softly, pointing to the single vertical slash on his face.

"I don't want to talk about it." He stood abruptly and, bowing briefly to her, made it clear that the conversation was over. "If that is all, Kaoru-dono, I'd like to rest. I'll start fixing this place up tomorrow."

Kaoru blushed a little, "You don't have to call me 'Kaoru-dono!' Just 'Kaoru' will be fine! And really, there's no rush!"

He shook his head, "I'm sorry, Kaoru-dono, but to keep my end of the bargain, I will need to help fix this place before I leave, and I won't be staying long. Only a few weeks... until my business is done..."

He paused, thinking a moment. "...I'll need to hurry if I wish to finish. I'll take my leave of you on May 14th."

With that, he turned and walked away.

Author's Note: Thanks again to sueb262 and lolo popoki for their invaluable beta work.

To the rest of you, thanks for reading. Please review!

Dewa mata!