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A/N: Revised and reposted.

CHAPTER FIVE

Playing at War

Mounted on the gelding, he rode through the wide tract leading to the clinic. He had already slowed his mount to give the mare a breather from their previous exhilarating race. The clinic was still a distance away and he estimated to arrive exactly at dusk.

He was enjoying this quite solitude when he heard the shouting. Boy' voices, he recognized. Thin and piping, and they were coming towards him.

The sounds at first seemed ordinary, comfortingly familiar. After all, he was used to hearing those sounds from children around Aoiya's neighborhood. The boys spent afternoons playing at war.

Playing at war. Which, as he certainly knew, was not a game. And not for children. He knew, of course, what it really was. Death and maiming of both men and horses. The ghastly sounds of their dying and the unmistakable stench of hot blood. He had encountered many deaths, in fact, half of his life was spent accompanying death but the only ones he counted were those of his fallen comrades and that of his late wife. When he was younger, he would only shrug off the painful aftermath of death whether he or his men had caused it or not. Back then, duty and honor means much more to him than pity sentiments of lose. But when he experience firsthand the bitter taste of losing someone dear, every perception he once had about death changed. Death, wherever and however its case, was the same in meaning. Pain for those loved ones who were left behind. It had almost been five years since he lost her but still, he couldn't be sure if the wounds had been totally mended. Nor his guilt would ever be relieved. If only forgiving ones self was as easy as accepting the circumstances so that one could place the all the blame to circumstances alone and the burden would have been lighter.

Deliberately, Aoshi erased those thoughts from his head. No matter how many times he searched through himself on this personal issue during his meditations, he is nowhere near coming into terms with himself. True enough, as the saying goes, 'Ones' self is thy greatest enemy.'

The first child had entered the view, followed rapidly by a stream of others coming out from the shadows of the roadside trees. The children were so engrossed with their play that they took no notice of the horse and the rider.

As he watched then, Aoshi gradually became aware that whatever was going on was not a game. A variety of missiles, rocks and, roots and sticks was thrown at the little boy in the lead. A rock, thrown by one of the largest of the pursuers, struck the child they were chasing on the back of his head.

Although they were almost upon him, the victim whirled and began picking up the fallen objects, lobbing them back at his tormentors. His throws were short and ineffective, but one had to admire his spirit, Aoshi thought. Apparently, however, the others didn't feel the same admiration.

"Surround him," shouted the boy who had thrown the rock.

Like well-trained troopers, his followers did just that, encircling the still-defiant victim, as he pitched whatever he could find on the ground back at them. The boy who was giving orders broke out of the circle and began to approach him.

"Now you're in for it, you little bastard," he said.

Enough, Aoshi thought, especially given the disparity in size between the two. He touched his heel to the gelding's flank, sending it charging towards the children. The boys on the outer edges scattered at the sound of his approach, and the two in the center looked up in amazement as he pulled just before it seemed the mare might crash into them.

"What's going on here?" he demanded. He hadn't raised his voice. The tone however was unconsciously authoritative and firm which elicited the same effect as he had on his men back in the old days.

The larger lad looked up, eyes widening at the sight of the horse looming above him. Aoshi knew that he, mounted on the gelding, would appear threatening to the lad. The spectators had already backed away in terror, avoiding the hooves of his mount, which Aoshi was controlling almost without thought.

With their eyes round with shock or awe, the boys remained silent for a moment. The larger of the two in the center had scrambled back, getting away from the horse, but the smaller child had barely moved.

"We ain't doin' wrong," the larger boy claimed.

"Anytime you don't fight fairly you are doing wrong," Aoshi said. "The odds here seemed a triple one-sided.

He deliberately allowed his eyes to fall to the smaller child. He had kept his voice low, but he made sure his words carried across the area, where dirt-smeared faces peered around the trunks of the trees. Despite their initial flurry to get out of the way of the horse's advance, no one left, more intrigued than frightened by his intervention.

"Little bastard," the boy Aoshi pegged as the leader said loathingly. Then he spitted on the ground, the spittle landing near the other boy's foot. The gesture indicated total contempt. Too much contempt, it seemed, for a child this age to have earned.

Aoshi's gaze moved to the face of the outcast. He was looking up at his rescuer, ignoring the others. The places where he'd been struck were reddened against his pale fine-grained skin. He wasn't crying however. And he hadn't been, Aoshi realized, not even when he had been getting far worse than he'd been able to give back.

The eyes of the child held his for a long moment, and then the boy raised his arm and wiped at the blood trickling from one nostril with back of his thin wrist. He succeeded in smearing the gore around a bit, but not removing it. He sniffed, that gesture as ineffective as the first at getting rid of the trickle of blood.

"They won't hurt you anymore," Aoshi said reassuringly.

"They didn't hurt me," the child said. His voice still held defiance, and that emotion was evident even in the contours of the childishly rounded cheeks and the uplifted chin. It was only then that Aoshi noticed something he should certainly have observed took a breath, eyes narrowing behind his bangs, the sudden rush of blood loud in his ears because he knew exactly who this child is. The unmistakable blue eyes that courageously met his.

"Go home," he ordered, without raising his voice or removing his gaze from the child's face. "It's time for you to go home."

The child he had just rescued started forward, obviously intending to leave with the others.

"Not you," Aoshi told him. Surprised, the little boy raised a brow at him.

"I'll take you home." Aoshi's words were an immediate and visible relaxation of the boy's shoulders, which had been tightened as if he expected another blow.

"I thought you've forgotten me." His blue eyes lit as it focused on Aoshi's face.

"Takani Ryusei." Aoshi acknowledged.

"My mama shall be looking for me now." Suddenly the boy's eyes widened, apparently realizing the incipient danger of his delay. "I'll be in great deal of trouble if I'm late."

Although Aoshi couldn't imagine Megumi applying the birch, the anxiety in the boy's eyes prompted a response from him. He held his hand to the child. There was only moment hesitation before the child laid small fingers within his. Aoshi pulled, careful not to break the fragile bones in his grip, lifting him easily into the saddle before him.

Feeling the child relaxed as he became accustomed to the height of the mount. He urged the horse into a canter, picking his way through the dusty road. There was something satisfying about the feel of the small body he held, seated securely in the saddle before him.

END OF CHAPTER FIVE

Short chapter but I have to emphasize Aoshi's part, his personal issues particularly since it will play a big part in later chapters.

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