It never fails, Kaoru thought, registering the eager glances of Maekawa's class as she sparred with one of his more advanced students. A bit of breeze from the doorway lifted her hair behind the protective mask; she frowned, but didn't take her eyes off her opponent long enough to wonder why that felt out of place. Other days, these guys may show or not; but if they know I'm going to be here, they pack the place.

Head, body, wrist- She sidestepped that last, though not by as much as she wanted. In truth, she was glad to be here; last night's mayhem had left adrenaline jittering through her veins even now, and this was a better way to work it out than assaulting random bike messengers. Besides, her skills could always use honing, and between the part-time instructor salary here, teaching Kamiya Kasshin herself, and a few temporary jobs, she made enough to get by.

And it's good to see how one of my students measures up.

Yahiko wasn't - quite - flopped on the ground like some of the younger students. But his strokes had that little shake that promised he'd be sore once class was over.

Which, with a sudden flurry of blows and a formal, parting bow to her opponent, it effectively was. A few minutes to cool down, the thanks to the gray-haired sensei and bowing out-

Kaoru's eyes swept the empty space near the dojo wall where relatives and guardians sometimes sat, and stopped on a blaze of red. How did- when did he-?

He was so still. Sitting seiza, as most students would; only without a flicker of the usual modern muscle-twitches from the traditional pose. Breathing almost imperceptible, as red bangs hid lowered eyes. Sheathed blade a proper, black arc to his right, curve facing toward him. A traditional iaido gesture of trust and respect, here tainted with irony; unlike a katana, the sakabatou's sharp edge faced outward.

On the surface, I am as you wish me to be, Kaoru read in that moment. But go beyond a brush of my sleeves... and I'm not what you expect. Ever.

Careful as if she were approaching a wing-torn redtail, Kaoru walked up to him. Knelt. Looked at him, willing that violet gaze to lift, to be alive. "Kenshin." I know you can feel me. I know you know I'm here.

A minuscule shake of head; then, slowly, haunted violet lifted. "Kaoru-dono..."

Japanese again. Not good. Over the past week she'd noticed a definite trend in Kenshin's speech. English tended to lose the upper hand at two extremes; either he was relaxed and happy - in which case, Battousai seemed to relax right along with him - or he was coiled tight as a new watch-spring.

Which usually meant Battousai was about two breaths from flattening whatever had hurt him.

But he's not moving. Which means whoever hurt him, it's not here. Blue stared into aching violet. And then again... maybe it is. Silently, Kaoru opened her arms.

He clung to her like a rock in a flood. She felt the tiny tremors in his muscles, the warm breath puff through her hair as he kept back a sob. "Tell me."

A soft, bitter ha escaped his lips. "I have a felon for a customer," Kenshin said, almost too soft to hear. "I may have several."

It wasn't funny. Not with that pain in his voice. It really wasn't. "Um, Kenshin... this is New York."

Violet blinked at her, wide and betrayed-

Closed again, over a wry, bittersweet smile. "Of course," he nodded, hugging her tighter. "Of course it is."

"That doesn't make it right!" Kaoru said hastily. He was hurting, she could see it... and she didn't know how to make it right. Which made her angry. Which wasn't going to help. Which made her even angrier. Deep breath. Good. "It just - well - you never know, Kenshin. You can try to be a good person, you can try to deal with just good people, but you never know." Blue eyes sought his as he loosened his grip. "You didn't know, right?"

"But I should have." Kenshin let go, hands retreating to his lap. "That tales of their deeds go unknown, is... not enough to lift the stain."

"Wait a minute!" Kaoru said hastily. "You mean these are the-" Eep! Careful! "-the kind of bad guys Sano chases?"

Hesitantly, he nodded.

"Well - that's..." Kaoru trailed off, reddening as the full weight of logic crashed down. "Are you telling me you're beating yourself up over helping bad guys you didn't even know existed?"

"Er..."

"Kenshin no baka!"

"Oro!"

He was fast, she'd give him that. Side-stepping swings and thrusts, red hair fluttering away from every head shot. Changing direction and speed like a leaf in a skirl of autumn wind, face gradually working its way from alarm, to concentration, to the ghost of a smile.

"Kaoru?" a startled voice rang across the dojo.

Oops. Kaoru lowered her bokken, offering a weak grin to Maekawa-sensei. "Just a little discussion."

"The shihandai makes a very pointed argument, that she does," Kenshin said innocently.

Miyauchi Maekawa glanced at them both, unconvinced. Even his mustache looked skeptical. "Young man, I think I knew your father well enough to say you're either overdressed, or late."

Oh, good, he's going to let it go. Kaoru's sigh of relief turned into a muffled yelp of alarm. Late? As in, to the class? Oh no, oh no-

"Er..." Kenshin glanced down at himself as if he'd completely forgotten what he was wearing; hakama and gi that, save for being white and red instead of indigo and white, blended right in with the rest of the departing students.

He probably did forget, Kaoru realized. When it comes to a fight, Battousai takes every advantage that's not nailed down. Souryuusen - it saved my life. But drawing the sheath from the obi, fast enough to strike...

Even if he could do that in street clothes and a leather belt, and Kaoru suspected he probably could, it'd be slower.

Maybe slow enough to get me killed. Or Yahiko.

And when it came to Yahiko, Kaoru was beginning to understand, Kenshin flat-out didn't care what the rest of the world thought. Claws? Fine. Fangs? Whatever. Drinking blood? He'd deal with it. So long as Yahiko was upright and breathing, Kenshin could deal with anything.

Dressing like a stray wanderer who'd never figured out the Tokugawa Shogunate had fallen, using just a touch of magic so most people's eyes skated across without noticing he didn't fit the crowd... no, Kenshin probably hadn't noticed. Or cared.

Blushing lightly, Kenshin shook his head. Walked back to Battousai, thrusting the sheathed blade under the first winding of his obi with self-conscious ease. "I thank you for the offer. But I'm usually working at this hour, that I am."

"And every other hour," Yahiko grumbled. "So how'd you break loose and end up here?" The teen gave his brother a look that seriously doubted Kenshin's hold on sanity. "You left Sano in charge of the store?"

"It seemed the most reasonable thing to do, that it did," Kenshin said sheepishly. "There was an incident."

Three sets of eyes blinked at him.

"Er... a misunderstanding?"

Maekawa glanced to make sure the rest of the students were either gone or out of earshot, then turned a wry glance on the redhead. "How many broken bones of one?"

Kenshin flinched, almost imperceptibly. "Maekawa-sensei..."

"I did know your parents. As much as anyone did," Maekawa added, half to himself. "Eileen had a temper and Thomas had a tendency to want problems solved the first time. I doubt you take after the one less than the other." He lifted a gray brow. "And given you left a federal agent to deal with the situation..."

Kenshin sighed. "I'm not certain if Smythe's intent was robbery, or information theft by use of force. He left bruised, but he left. I do not think he has any reason to pursue this outside my shop, but..." He shrugged.

You didn't want Yahiko going home alone, Kaoru filled in the blank.

From the teen's reddening face, he'd figured it out as well. "I can take care of myself, damn it!"

"Yeah?" A bright, cheery voice echoed off the walls, bouncing like the long black braid of the Goth ninja girl skipping through the dojo door. "I keep telling Sano that. Does he listen? 'Carry your mace, Itachi-jou. Don't go into alleys, Itachi-jou. Stay away from the lawyers, Itachi-jou, you never know which ones are possessed.' Hey, Battousai!"

Kaoru's jaw dropped as the girl she'd never seen before in her life grabbed Kenshin and gave him a quick, exuberant hug. "Feel better now that you told off the lab? That was just awesome!" Another squeeze, and she let go, green eyes dancing around the dojo. "Is this a good place? I miss hand-to-hand with you guys! I mean, I know you always had to work things out with Ward before, and maybe you still do, kind of... um..." The ninja looked at Kenshin's blush, and the other three's goggle-eyed stare. "Hi...?"

"Miss Kaoru, Yahiko, Maekawa-sensei - Misao Makimachi," Kenshin sighed. "She is a... co-worker of Agent Sagara's."

"You can say lab rat, you know," Misao rolled her eyes. "You find the evidence, I take it apart and give you the bits back to nail the bad guys." She grinned at Kaoru. "So you're Kamiya! Sano said you were cool. Well, he didn't say cool, exactly," Misao admitted, hand waving in a visual back-tracking circle. "He was in one of his grumble moods, the bad guys crawled under rocks and tBuku doesn't want him to go breaking them 'cause of the ongoing cases, nobody loves me, I want to pound somebody - well, you know. Barfightsville. But he said you came through that mess with Kurogasa with less shakes than most of the rookies we get. Pretty impressive."

"Lab rat?" Yahiko said, stunned. "Whoa, like CSI?"

"Yeah!" She flashed the teen a bright smile. "Want to check it out sometime? I bet we could get you in, you have got to see what we can do with paint guns and atomized liquid - ooo, I can't wait to get my hands on that new germanium-silver alloy!"

Kaoru blinked as Misao steamrollered the teen toward his gear, talking a mile a minute. "You just met her?"

"Last night," Kenshin confirmed. "She's very friendly, that she is." A shy smile passed over his face, fleeting as a cloud. "And very much still in love with a man gone missing about five years ago. I don't think she's so much as looked for a date since, that she hasn't."

Oh. Good. Kaoru ran that thought through her head again, and decided she wasn't going to think about it. Just... good.

"Battousai?" Maekawa asked, more pointedly.

Kenshin shrugged slightly. "Sano seems to have stuck me with that nickname, that he has."

Maekawa looked as if he'd swallowed a live cricket. "Does he have any idea what that means?"

"...Yes."

The older man looked the redhead up and down, gray brow arched. "A young man could get into a great deal of trouble with a nickname like that."

Cheeks pink, Kenshin nodded.

Maekawa glanced at Kaoru, then turned a considering gaze back on Kenshin. "I doubt your father ever changed his mind."

Any child with his great-grandfather's eyes was too dangerous to pick up a blade, Kaoru recalled, ghost-scents of Maekawa's kitchen wafting through her memory. Thomas thought Shinta - Kenshin - should never learn kendo.

But that doesn't make sense! You don't make people safe by keeping them in the dark.

Like Target Alpha keeps us in the dark about Kin...

Kenshin ducked his head, sheepish as a man who'd dropped the cookie jar. "A friend of Sano's offered to teach me. I did not truly think I would be any good at it."

Maekawa frowned. "A friend?"

"He prefers anonymity, that he does."

"Some of our people go undercover a lot," Misao chipped in, a bemused Yahiko trailing in her wake. "They get used to not giving out their names. You guys ready?"

"For what?" Kaoru managed, startled.

"We're going to raid the agency computers!" Misao shook her fists in glee. "Won't that be cool?"

---------

"Are you sure we're supposed to be doing this?" Yahiko asked suspiciously as the four of them crowded into a public library's small study carrel, watching Misao's fingers fly over the keyboard of her own laptop.

Make that, the five of us, Misao grinned inwardly. "Of course! Daedalus wouldn't do us much good if we didn't use it, right?"

"Daedalus?" Kaoru asked in an undertone.

"The agency's mainframe," Kenshin filled in. "Battousai has no real love for computers, but he does know a few passwords to access certain useful files."

"Some of which I carved a path for you to, thank you," Misao winked at the sword. "Didn't get a chance to say this last night, but it's nice to see you up and around... er... um?"

Kenshin had drawn the blade, then the saya. Which he promptly tipped upside-down.

Something small and metallic thumped to the library carpet.

"Sano did not know where I was going," the redhead said quietly, "only that I meant to find Miss Kaoru. Which means you would have needed a way to find me."

"Heh." Misao felt her smile flicker on and off, as Kenshin regarded the small device with tired annoyance. "I - ah - guess Sano didn't tell you..."

"That he did not, no," Kenshin said levelly. Picked up the miniaturized GPS tracker, and gave her a look.

Make that, a Look, Misao thought, trying not to shrink from the glimmer of amber in violet. Oh yeah. Battousai is definitely in there. "Come on, you know the rules! Field agents always carry a locator on assignment. And Battousai's always on assignment. That's how it works. That's how-" She looked away, suddenly trying not to cry. "I missed you, you know that? The rest of the lab, they don't understand learning how to defend yourself. 'You don't really think you could take on a Kin. That's what control teams are for.' And if I talk about Aoshi-" She sniffled, scrubbed at her nose with the back of her hand.

"I know." Soft. Cool.

Familiar, even if it was another's voice.

Like a kitten-pat, the clawed hand touched her face. Red bangs fell forward, casting shadow over a faint smile. "I worried about you too, little Weasel. And I am glad to see you well." Amusement glimmered in amber. "Even if you did resort to such unmannerly means to track us."

"Weasel-!" Misao shook a loose fist near his face. "You and Sano, I swear-"

"Aoshi?" Kaoru asked warily.

"A young man who vanished five years ago, shortly before he would have finished his Master's degree," Battousai informed her. "Evidence left near the dojo he was last seen at indicated Kin were involved. Once in a while a report of someone matching his description surfaces, but so far..." Red hair shook.

"He's not dead," Misao said firmly. "I'd know."

"I believe you, Misao-dono. You have a bright spirit, and it reaches out, even into the pathless dark." Another kitten-touch. "I will not say, do not believe. But remember to breathe. To be, here and now, where there are those who care for you."

Misao blinked as the web-page she wanted came up, inputting passwords almost by pure reflex. Okay. Officially weirded out now.

She'd known Battousai, and Ward, almost from the first day she'd spent on the job in the agency labs. Hard to forget the guy who'd handed her a clear plastic box with a pair of eyeballs in it. Moving eyeballs, smearing blood as they floated and rolled, that wanted very much to break their way out and Drain anything in their path to stay aloft.

"Wildeyes," Ward had bitten out. "It should be temporarily dead by dawn. We need DNA samples off the outside so we can match it to the victim. Indisputably. Run whatever else you can think of, but have it contained before sunset."

Misao stared into the box. The eyeballs stared back, all blood-smeared whites and brown irises, pupils tight in what she swore was impotent fury. "The victim?" she managed.

"Possessed."

The voice... was different.

She jerked her head up, staring into eyes suddenly inhuman amber. "It is," the agent said with that same uncanny chill, "What Wildeyes do. To control another's body, they must take its eyes, and replace them with their own. This victim was fortunate; we were able to stop the bleeding, and take her to a hospital. But I doubt she will think herself so, when she wakes to the knowledge that she is forever blind..." A quiet sigh. "Please be careful, Makimachi-san."

And then the agent stepped back, shaking himself like a dog shedding water. "Told you not to do that..." Ward saw her stunned shock, and scowled. "Yes. I'm possessed. Scream now and get it over with."

"I wasn't going to-" Misao stammered.

"You will. Everyone does." Fangs flashed in his bitter smile. "None of us is here because we like Kin."

He's angry, Misao thought. Right down to the bone.

But Grandpa had taught her how to deal with angry people.

So she'd squared her shoulders, and given him a firm smile. "Want some coffee?"

Eventually, though not from Ward, she'd managed to piece together an outline of the situation: the snarly agent had been diagnosed with widespread cancer, likely due to carcinogen exposure from a Toxxixx, just about the time Battousai's last bearer had decided to give up the enchanted blade and die human. They'd had an uneasy alliance ever since; and outside of oddballs like Sano, who'd been raised Crowley, nobody in the agency willingly stayed in the same room with them. Much less sat down with them for coffee.

At the funeral, she'd been almost alone.

Sano had been there, of course. And DuBuccio; the Deputy Director might be harried and up to his neck in the latest Kin rumble, but he gave fallen agents the respect they deserved. One or two elderly ex-agents, with white hair and shifty eyes, who'd disappeared after the ashes were interred. Outside of that, no one.

"He outlived most of them," Sano said bluntly when she asked. "Heck, DuBuccio wasn't even out of high school when Ward and Battousai paired up. The rest of them... well, you know how it is when someone gets turned. Far as they were concerned, Ward was already dead."

She'd sat down and had a good cry after that. Maybe Ward hadn't been a nice person - really not a nice person, he'd been one of those sneering voices telling her the best thing she could do against a Kin was hope to get caught in its teeth and choke it-

But. When she'd asked Battousai what she could do in a fight, Ward hadn't stopped the sword from showing her. Most of the time, he'd even kept his mouth shut.

And it wasn't as if Battousai himself was a really nice person... sword... whatever. Oh, the blade looked after her, definitely; he felt honor-bound to protect those weaker than himself, and he seemed to take an uncomplicated joy in her company, much as the samurai of old would the sight of the moon, or a dance of autumn leaves in the wind. But the rest of the time? Cold. Ruthless. Lethal.

This... gentleness...

Not going to scream, Misao told herself firmly now, calling up the files she wanted. Just not. "There! That's what we've got on Kanryuu. Boy; what is it about Connecticut that makes crooks so mean?" She grabbed Yahiko when the kid would have peered over Kenshin's shoulder. "Uh-uh! Himura can tell you what you have to know later. You need clearance to read those, and you don't have it."

"Listen, you-" Kaoru started, reaching for her bokken.

"Miss Kaoru. Please." Violet regarded them both soberly. "Miss Misao's only doing her job, that she is."

"We'll be outside," Kaoru said after a moment. "Come on, Yahiko."

"Stupid rules," Yahiko grumbled as Misao closed the carrel door behind the three of them. "Where's a girl get off telling us - we wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for Target Alpha-"

"Keep your voice down!" Kaoru said fiercely, before Misao could. "Just because it's daylight, doesn't mean it's safe."

"Definitely not in the library," Misao nodded, moving them along to a desk in the corner where they could steal a few chairs and still have privacy. "Think about it, kid. Sano told me a long time back, there's only a few places aboveground a Kin can hole up and be pretty sure no one's going to come looking or pull a blind back to let the sun in. And two of them are theaters, and public libraries."

"Oh." Yahiko's voice was almost inaudible.

"You didn't know," Misao shrugged, sitting backwards on a wooden chair. "Now you do. And now I want to know; how long has he been like this?"

Kaoru and Yahiko looked at each other. "Like what?" Yahiko asked warily.

"This nice!" Misao reached for the words that might tell these two civilians turned Crowley just how badly the roof had fallen in. Her cheek still tingled, echoing that gentle touch. "I know Battousai. He's a friend; okay, maybe a little chillier than most people would call friend material, but he definitely beats some of the lunkheads under Uramura. Just - he's not nice!"

Another exchange of glances. Kaoru dragged another chair from the opposite side of the desk, and sat down herself. "He seemed colder before, but I thought that was just because of being hunted, and Sano," the kendo teacher said, almost to herself. "After he got me back, and we were all safe, he was fine. Still not what you'd expect from Kenshin-"

Leaning against the wall, Yahiko rolled his eyes. "Mr. 'Just shoo the wasp out the window, it's not its fault we don't want it here'? Uh, yeah."

"Kenshin's nice?" Misao asked carefully.

"Not like most people think of nice," Kaoru explained. "He doesn't try to sweet-talk you, or make you feel like you're the center of his universe, or anything. He's just there. And he listens."

"So... really nice," Misao said warily, taking in the kendo instructor's quiet smile, the teen's could-care-less shrug of shoulders. Just wait ten years, kiddo. You-against-the-world attitude may draw in the cheerleader butterflies, but nice is what lasts. "But Sano said some of the things you dealt with-" Including Virus, oh man, I never want them to find me, never! "-it was Kenshin who handled it, not Battousai."

"And he hates to fight." Kaoru bit her lip, shoulders slumping. "Or... he did hate to fight. Before. Now," she drew a breath, fingers clenching, then deliberately loosening. "He still doesn't like it. But I think he's finding that place inside my father used to talk about, where you're not angry, or upset. You just are."

Yahiko was glancing between them like a spectator at an extreme tennis tournament. "Whoa, whoa. You're saying that my brother-" he spread one hand, "-and Battousai-?" the other went out, then interlaced with the first.

Misao looked at interwoven fingers, then met Kaoru's troubled gaze. "Um..."

Knuckles rapped against a nearby shelf.

Misao started, swiveling to catch a sudden flame of red hair, standing politely out of earshot. For normal ears, at least.

Nodding to them all, Kenshin walked close enough to hand Misao her laptop. "We need to get moving."

Yahiko paled. "Oh no," Kaoru whispered. "Not again."

Kenshin blinked at them, then ducked his head, sheepish. "Er, no," he said firmly. "Everything is fine, Miss Kaoru, that it is. Truly. It's only... there isn't that much information on Kanryuu, outside the fact that he's a human businessman who's suspected of shady dealings with not only politicians, but Kin and human lawbreakers from the Mob on down. And if he's not well known, and his associates are not, then perhaps it's not wise to be out in plain view if he bears a grudge. At least," he added wryly, "Not with the shopkeeper he'd most likely bear a grudge against." A slight shrug. "If you wished further time here, one would be quite willing to go on ahead-"

Kaoru tapped her bokken.

"Or not." The redhead took a slight step back. "Anou, Kaoru-dono, some of the books are likely fragile-"

"Kenshin." Sweet. Level. Innocent.

The redhead flicked a glance at the carpet, as if hoping the riot of pale and dark browns that mingled to form an overall beige would swirl into an inter-dimensional portal for his escape. "...Yes?"

"If you're thinking of doing something sweet and noble and self-sacrificing, when we don't even know if this guy is looking for you-" Mild blue narrowed into stormy fury; Misao could all but see steam rising from the kendo instructor's ears. "Don't."

"Oro..."

---------

"And the dice are thrown!" The half-dressed Wyght held his cup over the spotted cubes, withered grin full of sharp teeth. "Place your bets!"

"So, which is it?" Sano muttered, subtly poking his shoulder.

"Five and six," Kenshin murmured back, thinking of Kaoru, and Yahiko, and the dinner he'd much rather be sharing with them, instead of the restaurant snack plates he was currently finishing off with Sano's help. "Odd." Though how I can know that when I barely looked-

:We predict a foe's movements on far subtler cues,: Battousai shrugged within him. :Reading the dice is easy.:

Kenshin fought the urge to glance around the Shuei-ya's private dining hall. It wouldn't have changed from the last time he looked; an early-night crowd of Kin and Crowleys gathered on the floor around a long gaming mat, snacking from a buffet of Oriental food, tea, sake, and various better-left-unnamed snacks and beverages. And no one catches on?

A silent laugh. :They're all looking for Edges, my own. That's why the mat is laced underneath with needles of iron, silver, wood, and flint; not to mention embroidered with enough anti-magic runes to give a Sorcerer a rash just by touching it. But we're not using an Edge. Just my training.:

You mean a human could do this?

:Rare humans, yes.: A slight hesitation. :Though some have gotten suspicious when our luck is too good... it's just as well you're using a touch of distraction. Not all of New York knows I can take another host; if those here are willing to overlook who a redhead in company with Sanosuke Sagara might be, we may as well encourage that.:

Kenshin didn't quite roll his eyes. Given that Sano said we were here to listen for rumors, yes, I would think so.

Wry humor brushed him. :You'd be surprised what Kin will say, even if they do know I am present. I am frightening, yes - but a great many Kin think they are equally perilous.:

"Think"?

The flash of a fanged smile hung in his mind. Kenshin stifled a sigh. And I thought Yahiko had an attitude.

:Ah! Not fair, my own. Not at all fair.: A moment's irritation; but buried in the core, a flicker of understanding. :Yahiko has the confidence of one who has never truly been left weaponless in the world; though Kamiya-sensei, and our own battles, are beginning to temper that. I know the odds I can face, and those I should retreat from, and those rare ones I must flee entirely.:

Kenshin raised a wry brow. The odds you can face?

:I know your strength.:

I'm not strong-

"Huh! Less than two weeks, and I know that look." Sano's hand clapped him on the shoulder. Kenshin winced, more out of memory than pain; it might be healed now, but there had been steel through that flesh last week. "You're in here, you're around the usual crowd without screaming or thumping heads - you're doing fine." The agent grinned. "You worry too much."

"Who needs to worry about Kin, when human cops provide enough peril?" Kenshin murmured. "Sano, gambling is illegal."

"And...?" Sano slid a pointed glance at the hilt leaning against Kenshin's shoulder. "Swords are illegal in New York, too. Reversed or not."

"This, I know," Kenshin muttered.

"Come on, Kenshin. Almost everybody in here's a friend of mine. And the ones that aren't-" Sano didn't quite glance across the mat, toward a group of humans and Kin that looked no scruffier than the rest but felt oilier. "Well. They make for some interesting listening, huh?"

That they had. More fragments than anything else, traded with the rest of the gamers as the throws went on; bits of names laying claim to streets, misfortunes with mortal accident or Kin malice. One or two mentions of Virus sightings, usually with the codicil, "And then I got the hell out of there!"

:Pieces that will make a pattern,: Battousai said confidently. :Virus is too organized for there not to be one.:

How do we know that?

:My own-:

You've fought them for two years, I know, Kenshin nodded slightly. They're intelligent, yes. They - it?- make plans. But as far as patterns go... every few years, we get a wave of people looking for Japonisme in Wonderful Things. Is that a pattern? An effect of the fact that we usually stock items in Oriental styles? Or just a rabid meme, spreading like wildfire for a time, to burn out and lurk in other minds before it re-infects popular culture?

A mental blink. :...You can be very strange, my own.:

"You're worrying again," Sano sing-songed.

Kenshin gave him a shrug. "It's just - two years, and no one's ever heard anything about anyone or anything working with Virus. Yet we know something was there."

"Yeah, yeah; it'll all make sense one of these days." Sano flung an arm around his neck, squeezed him tight. "Come on! Next, next! Is this one odds? Evens?"

Kenshin glanced at the rattling cup, seeing how the dice danced against its confines, shimmering into a flow of paths and probabilities that split, and merged, and split again-

And solidified, in one clear track of trajectories, as the cup slammed down. A faint smile touched the redhead's face. "Snake eyes. Evens."

The cup lifted, and there was a chorus of cheers and groans as money changed hands. Sano rubbed his hands and collected his winnings, pushing some of the bills aside for the next bet. At least one of us is having fun, Kenshin thought wryly.

"Stop there!"

Kenshin glanced at the fire exit Battousai remembered as leading through a discrete back corridor into a dank but serviceable alley, wondering if he'd actually heard something, or if his imagination was playing tricks. Easy enough for that to be the case, after the last few days...

:It's not.:

He left only part of his attention on the game, reaching out with all his senses. There... a thrill of the hunt. An anticipation of blood.

And trapped between them, a quiet, clouded sense of fear.

"Sorry, chickie - but did you really think you could get away alone?"

"You won't cause any more trouble!"

"Snake eyes again," Kenshin murmured, listening to the alley door thump, a desperate breath with a brace of hunters panting on its heels. If what Battousai recalled was accurate, the restaurant's bouncer should have been notified the moment the back door opened. There was no reason to get involved. Yet. "Sano..."

"I know, I know - go easy on 'em," Sano smirked, raking in another pile. "Hey, guys! Where's Yoita tonight? He won half a grand off me last time; doesn't seem right not to return the favor."

Awkward silence rippled through the room. "...Yeah, you probably didn't hear," a thin brunet Crowley admitted, ducking his head. "Grinder found him about the time Katsu was throwing your wake."

"Found?" Sano pounced.

The brunet moved a hand across his face, as if drawing lines. "Spider's Web."

For a moment, ghostly black lines seemed to crawl across the Crowley's skin, as Battousai drew on his own memories of the vicious drug's overdoses. :An opium derivative. Root or Sorcery, we're not certain, but some form of magic makes it not only twice as potent, but impossible to identify as a drug by conventional chemical tests. Even if a dealer is caught with it, the cops can't prove he's carrying anything more deadly than brown sugar,: the sword-spirit recalled grimly. :The Beijings run it through Chinatown. Target Alpha and the NYPD have both done what they can, but the gang has never given up a source. Our best guess is that somehow Bleacher Bob, the Ubo in charge of the gang, has some connection with magic we can't find, but...:

What is it?

:The ki signature of Spider's Web.:Frustration. :When I think of it now... it reminds me of something.:

Kenshin blinked, thinking of the quirks of steel's memory, even as he heard an odd thump that sounded queasily like Shuei-ya's bouncer running into more than he could handle. You mean - like something I've seen?

"Yoita." Sano's fists clenched over the mat. "You idiot. Why would you get mixed up with that...?"

The room doors clattered open.

Desperation. Fear. The hopeless fury of a fox at the cliff edge, turning to face the hounds.

Kenshin fought free of that blaze across his ki sense, focusing on the panting physical body that contained it. Tall, sweating; long dark hair washed with a green cast that, together with tall ebony boots and horror-movie classic leather mad doctor's outfit, gave whole new levels of elegance to the Goth scene. Numb brown eyes scanned the room, seeing without seeing any more than that there was no other exit.

"Wouldn't mind playing doctor with her..." came a whistle through the crowd.

A flash of anger lit dark eyes; even as the woman fought to catch her breath, her shoulders straightened, her world sliding back into focus. She scanned the room again-

And darted for him like a guided missile, boots scattering cash over the mat as she wrapped arms around Kenshin in a desperate hug. "Please help me!"

"Oro?"

:This is... definitely not what usually happens...:

"Megumi, you witch!"

A pair of muscle, one a bit bulkier than the other. Denim and silk-patched leather; no tattoos in plain view, but a hard emptiness in the eyes that spoke clearer of murder than any inked teardrops ever would. None of which were as important as the metal lumps of guns in their belts... and the white-edged knives in their hands.

:Coated with dried brine,: Battousai noted grimly. :They came hunting magic.:

Beijings, Kenshin knew, seeing the healed scars where the two's left little fingers should have been.

The bearded gang member smirked, eyes running over Megumi's form in obvious threat. "There's nowhere else for you to run!"

And they mean trouble.

"One thing after another." Sano's eyes narrowed over a snarl that would have done a werewolf proud. "Who are you punks?"

...And there goes any chance of a peaceful walk through Chinatown, Kenshin thought wryly.

"Back off, loudmouth!" The beard charged. "Hand over the girl, or else-"

Blood flew. The salt-touched knife spiraled through smoky air, to stick quivering in the far wall.

Sano stood over the unconscious gang member, shaking out his fist. Turned a fiery glare on the one still standing. "Better watch your own mouth," he ground out. "I'm not in the mood."

:Be ready.: Scales whispered near Kenshin's soul, drawing them both near that place of calm where all that existed was the target and steel's dance. :He's unlikely to draw the gun; not with so many Kin here, not with the police likely already summoned by the bouncer's fall. But be ready.:

"Y-you think you'll get away with this?" The gangster's knife shook, but he flashed his left hand in sickly defiance. "She's Kanryuu's woman! And you know who we are!"

Sano's fist came down like a hammer. "I told you to watch it, teme!"

"The Beijings..." some of the gamers muttered to each other. "This is bad..."

"Kanryuu Takeda?" Kenshin stood, using Battousai's calm to ignore the unconscious gang members on the floor when most of him wanted desperately to be elsewhere. Something felt off about the room - a gust of wind, a ruffle in ki, he wasn't sure - but he didn't dare take his eyes off the woman. Not now. Her ki was a Witch's, if drained and trembling; and spells she might not have flung at her salt-bearing pursuers, she might well risk casting on Sano. "Who is this man?"

Megumi glanced aside, a drop of sweat shivering down her cheek.

"And since when do the Beijings do snatch-and-grabs for a human?" Sano cast a measuring look Megumi's way. "You one of their high-class hookers, keeping him sweet?"

"How dare you!" Spots of color rose in pale cheeks; she crossed her arms with a whisper of leather and an outraged hmph. "They've nothing to do with me. I don't even know this Kanryuu!"

"How prettily you lie, Megumi Takani..."

Fear shivered through her ki. Kenshin glanced toward its source; a grinning little man in loose black and gray, sitting cross-legged in the corner, cat-eyes glowing lambent yellow under a widow's peak of spiked black hair.

:Rakshasa.:

Kenshin nodded slightly, eyes flicking up toward that gentle puff of breeze he'd felt earlier. Loose ceiling tile. So that's how he got in. Absently, he noticed there was beginning to be a panicked rush for the door.

:Good. Less innocent bystanders.:

I'm an innocent bystander, that I am!

A Cheshire cat's grin in his mind. :Really?:

"Only two guards, you thought," the cat-eyed vampire smirked. "But by those who serve the Okashira, you are always watched. Be it the street, the bed, the bath... nowhere escapes us."

Being a little obvious, isn't he? Kenshin thought.

:There aren't that many here who speak Japanese.:

What?

"Tch." Megumi combed back her hair, proud as a queen. "I tell you I'm no prostitute."

English, Kenshin realized, shocked like cold water. The rhythm was different.

And then it changed again, as Megumi slipped back into the Rakshasa's tongue. "Go back and tell Kanryuu!" She jabbed a finger toward her enemy, defiant. "I will keep running from him!"

"Such a cute little morsel." The Rakshasa cracked his knuckles, claws gleaming black with venom. "How did you ever get the idea you could run?"

Battousai's attention sharpened, sensing the odd flux of ki around the Rakshasa's hand. :What is he-:

Claws slashed down twice, black flung out in two tight bundles of energy. They skimmed Megumi's hair to either side, parting green-black strands-

Struck home in gamblers behind her, dropping them in bloody, venom-wracked heaps.

Oh gods-

:Calm!: Battousai gripped his terror tight, even as Sano yelled out to Tomo and Ginji, yelled again for a first aid kit, damn it, now! :Calm, and think!:

"Spiral darts." More black beaded on the Rakshasa's claws. "Your legs are next. It won't be enough to kill."

The claws slashed down-

And Kenshin was already moving, darting in front of the frozen witch, slamming a hand down on the one item in the room meant to block every Edge ever known.

The gaming mat.

Green cloth rippled up, shedding cash and dice in one rattling rush, far edge snapping like a whip as venom smacked into bane-laced fabric.

Sizzle...

"What's going on between you isn't clear," Kenshin stated, eyes fixed on the Rakshasa as venom-eaten green flopped back to the floor. "But I won't let you hurt innocent people."

Cat eyes flinched back, but covered it with a sneer. "Ha! Think you'll stop me with one lucky-"

Sano growled. "You think you can throw poison at my friends and get away with it?"

For a moment, the Kin's attention was split between Kenshin and a charging, bare-fisted agent-

The next, he was cross-eyed and drooling, out cold on the floor.

:Sano makes such a great distraction, doesn't he?:

Yes, Kenshin admitted, trying not to flinch from the not-quite-pain in his wrist as he lowered his sword. He'd practiced the hilt-strike, but this was the first time he'd ever used it without thinking. It felt odd; the sudden knowledge of how the blow felt in his own flesh and bone snapping into all Battousai's memories of the strike like the puzzle piece that turned a blur of colors into a dragon's wing.

No time to explore the oddness. Not with that horrified buzz behind him, as the gamblers added up the unconscious Beijings with the Rakshasa and came to rather obvious conclusions about their chances of survival if they hung around. In moments, even the venom-struck victims were gone, hauled out by some of the waitresses and a very bruised bouncer.

Who will be back in minutes, to move the refuse outside before they wake, Kenshin thought coolly. We need answers, and we need them now.

"Mmm..." Megumi studied them from under dark bangs, fear melting into quick calculation. "Say... you boys wouldn't mind helping a girl get away from Kanryuu?" Her smile was elegant, seductive. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Forget that," Sano said crossly. "Explain this!"

"Hmph." Her chin lifted, long lashes fluttering.

"Don't even start!" Sano snatched her wrist, ready to implement a come-along hold. "Two of my friends are hurt! You think I'm going to walk into whatever mess you've landed in blind?"

"You're hurting me!" Megumi twisted free, the snap closing her leather cuff pinging open-

White paper packets fluttered free.

:I'd thought I was only sensing traces on the Beijings...:

Numb inside, Kenshin plucked a triangular packet from the ground, unfolding thick paper just enough to see the silky brown crystals within. This close, it was a sickly twist in his ki sense; whispering of intoxication, corruption, unstoppable harm.

The redhead turned toward Megumi, sensing the shock of recognition crash through Sano's ki. "And how will you make it worth our while?" That can't be me. I can't be this calm. Not with death in my hands... "With Spider's Web?"

---------

Translations and info:

Anou - Um.

Baka - idiot.

Bane - a substance some Kin are particularly vulnerable to; for example, silver to werewolves.

Beijings - a mixed Chinese and Japanese gang, led by Ubos.

Iaido - martial art of sword-drawing.

Itachi-jou - "Miss Weasel".

Meme - a particular unit of thought, idea. Some sociologists speculate that human populations spread culture in "memes" in patterns similar to how genes spread through most other species.

Obi - belt, sash.

Okashira - "the head", boss.

Oro - doesn't really mean anything; though some think it's a back-country version of ara, "Oh!"

Root Magic - bringing out the "inner magic" of herbs, crystals, and other natural objects.

Seiza - traditional Japanese way of sitting on tatami (straw mats). Kneeling and seated, hands resting on top of thighs.

Shihandai - Assistant instructor. (Kendo).

Sorcerer - Kin, male or female, who used to be a human magic-user but "slipped over the edge" at some point, gaining the inhuman characteristics of Kin longevity, inability to die permanently save by a meteoric object, hunger for life-force, and the ability to Drain it.

Souryuusen - "Double dragon strike".

Teme - "you bastard".

Toxxixx - Kin, spirits of toxic waste.

Wildeyes - Kin whose eyes can take flight from their body and drain life-force.

Witch - human, male or female, who can cast spells but specializes in Root Magic.

Wyght - Kin that look very much like a desiccated corpse, with stark white hair.