Protector
A/N – The next morning.
Disclaimer – I don't own Ruroken, any of the canon characters, situations or settings. Written for enjoyment only.

It was nearly 3am by the time the taxi rolled to a stop outside the Kamiya dojo. Kaoru stepped out of the cab and stood, clutching her coat tightly about her and shivering while her companion paid the fare, numbly allowing him to take care of everything. Shock, her mind supplied distantly, delayed reaction; not two hours ago she'd thought she was about to die, frozen and helpless under Jin-ei's spell, before an even more dangerous killer had intervened. Hitokiri Battousai had cut Jin-ei down before her terrified eyes (she could still feel the shocking warmth as the blood spattered her face) and then –

– and then he had helped her to her feet and offered to escort her home.

She had taken his arm and walked with him through dark streets and alleys in some sort of twisted normality, completely unafraid, before the events of the night finally began to set in. That was when her strange companion, casting her a concerned look that she was too numb to notice, had hailed a cab, bundled her in before she could protest, and after only a second's hesitation she gave the driver her address.

Because really, if he'd wanted to harm her, he'd already had more than enough opportunity.

Finally the taxi was gone and she stood alone with the assassin, fumbling in her purse for the keys. She did not even question her decision to let him in, simply unlocked the door, turned to see him behind her, waiting politely for his dismissal – and something in her knew that she could not let him go. It took all of her courage, but she held out her hand to him, palm upwards in invitation.

He hesitated, already half-stepping backwards and away, melting into the shadows.

"You saved me," she said, her voice unsteady. "And then you made sure that I reached my home safely. Please, stay," she whispered, beyond all thoughts of pride or appearances. "I trust you."

He stared at her for a long, long time, her outstretched hand between them. She remembered the way his eyes had flared brightly when she had thanked him for saving her life – Battousai, the most dangerous government enforcer in Japan.

Finally, he took her hand, and allowed her to lead him into her home.

He was still there when she woke in the morning. She yawned widely as she padded out into the living area, half-convinced the night before had been nothing but a terrifying dream; her eyes widened as she saw him on the porch, half-dozing with his back against the wall, his sheathed sword propped against his shoulder.

He turned as she approached him, and for the first time she could get a good look at him in the morning light: she was surprised to see that her first impressions of him (admittedly coloured by violence and death) had been wildly misleading. Far from being a terrifying shadow creature, he was a small, slender man, extremely self-contained. His hair was red-brown, like the rumours, and his eyes were an eerie shade of golden-brown, though infinitely sad. His face was unlined, deceptively young, though he must have been in his late twenties, at the very least.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said, "about what happened to you last night. You should not have been… Jin-ei should never have involved innocents."

She shuddered, remembering the sick glee in the murderer's eyes, the way he had taunted and terrorised her with his knives.

"You were hunting him?" she asked.

He nodded, looked away, mouth set and grim. "He was one of us, once – the hitokiri. But he began to enjoy it too much, and Katsura-san…"

He trailed off, but Kaoru could fill in the gaps. Katsura Kogoro, the all-powerful Minister of the Interior, controlled all domestic security in Japan, including the secret police and the intelligence agencies. He'd been one of the three most instrumental figures in the revolution, had helped bring the old order down with his brutal kill squads, the hitokiri, of whom Battousai was the most notorious. After the Emperor Meiji had been restored, Katsura had gone from rebel to government minister, but had not, it was whispered, surrendered control of his hitokiri.

"Well," she said, a poor, deliberate attempt at lightening the mood, "he's dead now. And I thank you. Really. Oh," she said, her eyes flying wide. "I'm sorry – my name is Kaoru. Kamiya Kaoru. We didn't really get to introduce ourselves last night."

She held out her hand again, this time for him to shake. He looked at her, eyes wide, before a slow, fugitive smile dawned. "Himura Kenshin," he said, and shook her hand gently. "And thank you," he said in return.

"For what?"

The fugitive smile turned wistful. "For reminding me it's my job to protect individual people, not just the Meiji regime."