Tokyo
"Hnh. Stubborn punk."
Myoujin Yahiko felt blood trickling from his split lip as Gasuke's ki-grip held him dangling above the floor, and took a certain bleak delight in how wet red had already stained the gambling den's pristine mats. All the money in the galaxy can't hide what you are, Tanishi. A rich port rat's still a rat.
But I'm not. Not anymore.
A funny decision for a pickpocket to make, maybe. Nimble fingers and a hint of telekinesis had let him lift credits no one else could touch; he could bring in the monthly fees the yakuza demanded to leave him breathing, and still have enough to get by. Just enough - but a little bit of hunger helped keep him numb. Helped an orphaned ten-year-old not think about what he was doing, and what his mother would say if she were alive to know.
Only - he had an awful, sinking feeling that even if she did know, she would have forgiven him. Just as his last target had, only a few hours ago.
"If he needs this so badly..." Pale hands had pried him out of the ugly girl's grip, pressing the stolen wallet back into his hands. "Young one. Don't get caught next time."
Why, why, why did he have to hear his mother's words from that idiot? That red-headed... smiling... samurai idiot...
"You may look like a child, but it's obvious your soul is mature."
He'd thrown that wallet back like it burned.
So now he was here in a smoky yakuza gambling den, in front of a snickering crowd of thugs and villains, on the wrong end of Gasuke's fists, feet, and ki-choking. Figured...
"Ease up for a minute, Gasuke. Or there won't be anything left to apologize."
Apologize? Yahiko thought grimly, stealing a furtive glance toward where greasy, balding Tanishi gorged himself on cooked kokumotsu and three kinds of marinated meat strips. Like hell. I quit. Either you'll let me live, or you won't. Kissing your feet won't do a thing either way. Rumor on the street had it that Gasuke liked killing best of all when someone did beg...
"Yahiko, you haven't thought this through." Chopsticks picked up a meat strip. "How are you going to live if you quit thieving? Money, not privilege. That's what the Empire runs on. A poor samurai's not a model for proper behavior anymore; he's just poor. A bandit in the making." A slurp. "And as for samurai women... well, it's good for people like me when the pleasure quarter's got enough girls to go around - but I'd bet they'd trade places with you in a heartbeat."
Caught in Gasuke's ki-grip, Yahiko's fists still clenched. "I said, I quit."
The enforcer used his own hands to bash him to the bloody mats; stood over him with a sheathed vibro-blade and a sneer. "You think this is funny, brat? You're lucky to still be breathing! Your father went and got himself killed spreading Shogunate sedition; the stormtroopers should have wiped your whole family out." Gasuke smirked. "Maybe if your mother had come to one of Tanishi-san's teahouses instead of that low-rent dive down by the river, she'd still be alive and working. I wonder if her son's as good-"
As Yahiko's teeth sank into the inside of the enforcer's thigh, he had time for only one thought: Damn. Missed.
Gasuke tore him loose and telekinetically smashed him to the ground, eyes blazing yellow with dark ki as he shrieked. "I'll take you apart, you little-"
The wall screens blasted inward.
Yahiko sat blinking on the mats as a sense of presence stalked over the flattened screens - and the enforcer flattened under them - standing in front of gathered thugs with an unlit lightsaber in his hand. The redheaded samurai...?
"It's a raid!" Tanishi snarled, bowl cast aside. "Get the guys-"
"They won't come." Level violet, with just a glint of steel; the gaze caught Tanishi's, held it without a trace of the odd ringing in his head Yahiko associated with ki-manipulation of will. "They weren't going to let me in, so I had them go to sleep for a little while."
Wide-eyed, Yahiko tried not to shiver. Violet eyes, no trace of the yellow that marked true darkness, but the steel-blue gleam in that gaze chilled him to the bone.
:Easy, young one. You know I won't harm you.:
Yahiko's jaw dropped at the light, gentle laugh in his mind. Was that - but no way, samurai with that kind of power just didn't go near the spaceport-!
:And where could we be more needed, Yahiko-kun? But seem frightened now, if you can. Tanishi's will is far too strong for mind tricks, yet it can be bent nonetheless...:
"Who?" Tanishi croaked.
"I am Himura Kenshin. A rurouni." The redhead's mind might be warm, but his voice was cool as the first autumn gale. "I've come for the dojo master's apprentice."
Say what? Yahiko thought frantically.
:You do wish to leave here in one piece, yes? And walk these streets afterward without a vibro-blade to the back?:
Well, yeah, but-
The screen crashed off of Gasuke, flung by furious will. "What do you think you are, another samurai fool?" The vibro-blade hummed to life. "I'll kill you both at-"
A blue flash- and there was an enforcer embedded head-first in the ceiling, pieces of vibro-blade clattering to the ground.
"We're talking," Kenshin said levelly, blue lightsaber lit and ready over his shoulder. "Stay there and be quiet for a while."
Yahiko felt the twist of will embedded in those words, and had to hide a grin. Oh, Gasuke was never going to live this one down!
"You seem a reasonable man." Kenshin turned his gaze back to Tanishi. "Show yourself a generous one as well, yes? Release the young one." Ki seemed to gather about him like dry tinder, only waiting for a spark. "It may embarrass you less than the total annihilation of your men..."
Yahiko swallowed, trying to keep his jaw from dropping. Was Tanishi sweating?
"Fine," Tanishi said in a thin voice. "Take him."
"Thank you." Blue light vanished, and Kenshin clipped the saber back to his obi. "Please forgive the intrusion."
And soundless footsteps were heading his way.
Still trying to get to his feet, Yahiko stared up as the rurouni half-crouched, offering a hand. "Are you all right, young one?" Kenshin asked quietly. "You were hard to pinpoint, but after visiting one yakuza group after another..."
One after- Yahiko tried not to let his eyes bug. You mean, you did this more than once?!
But amazement was lost in a sudden blaze of fury, as he slapped that offered hand away and reached-
:No.:
The dark ki of rage was held at bay, out of his frantic grip. All he could touch was calm, soothing paleness, like the first deep breath of dawn.
Let me go!
:No. Yahiko, trust me. No.:
"Who told you to help me, huh?" Yahiko bit out. "I could have fought them alone! I could have-" lost myself in darkness and burned the whole rat's nest down...
"Of course." And all trace of steel was gone, lost in a gentle smile that gave the lie to the cross-shaped scar. "This one has underestimated you once again."
And a swordsman's callused hand casually snatched the back of his collar, hoisting him over Kenshin's shoulder as the rurouni headed back out through the hole in the wall. "So as apology, at least allow your wounds to be treated..."
The hell he would! If he could just get down... Are you crazy? You're turning your back on a whole room-full of slime, with Tanishi mad!
A grin seemed to hang in his mind. :They won't follow.:
"You won't get away!"
Like I said- Yahiko thought dryly.
"No! Let them go!"
Tanishi? Yahiko blinked. Used the surprise to find a little calm, and reached out with his senses to the room falling behind Kenshin's unhurried strides.
"Those were the eyes of a hitokiri," Tanishi said thinly. "And not a yakuza hitokiri like Gasuke, who just knows a few tricks with the dark. A real one." Ceramic made a muffled ring on the mat-covered floor, as Tanishi clutched what was left of his meal. "I didn't know there were still men like that."
Like- Yahiko blinked, and finally took in the corridor Kenshin was hauling him out of.
The body-strewn corridor.
Knives were embedded in the wooden lower half of the wall-panels. Vibro-knives and chains were so much shredded metallic junk strewn down the mats. Two or three blasters were simply pieces scattered around their unconscious users.
All told, he could count an even dozen of Tanishi's guys flattened or groaning or half-through paper wall-panels out cold. Without even looking hard.
"If we start a war with him, it won't be one kid," Tanishi said grimly. "We wouldn't be able to build enough coffins."
Shocked, Yahiko lost his hold on calm, feeling senses snap back to normal with a wince. But not before he heard a familiar measured tramp of feet, a clatter of blasters lowered.
"Hold!" A middle-aged Yamato man in Imperial uniform with glasses and a thin mustache raised a warning hand as Kenshin stopped in the doorway. "Let them pass. The ones we want are inside."
"Sir!" Saluting, the white-armored troops poured in.
Kenshin, and now the Imps, Yahiko thought, stunned. Boy, Tanishi is having a bad day...
"Himura-san, I presume," the uniformed officer said dryly. "I am Inspector Uramura, head of Tokyo Internal Security. I've been looking for you." A slight smile bent his lips. "And it only took reports of chaos from four gambling dens before I realized you'd likely be here next."
"Oro?"
Yahiko snorted. Oh stars, it hurts to laugh.
But he couldn't help it. The idea of the guy who had flattened Gasuke - not to mention whatever else he'd pulled off this night - trying to play innocent for the cops...
Hee. Hee hee. Ow...
"Yahiko-kun must see Dr. Gensai," Kenshin said firmly. "And if one is not mistaken, you will be busy for some time. Since you are responding to a call of violent disturbance, and so have rightful cause to arrest anyone displaying illegal weapons in plain view..."
"Amazing, how many of those we've found tonight." A touch of humor glimmered behind the glasses. "You're right, of course. Still, I would like to talk to you. In someplace a bit more congenial than headquarters; Kamiya-san's dojo, perhaps? Inspectors are allowed some leeway in questioning... witnesses... and if I had your word you would be there for the interview - well, I'd have no reason not to let you and the boy go on your way, would I?"
"You have my word I will be there, Uramura-san," Kenshin nodded. "To talk."
Yahiko craned his head back to get a good look at the Inspector's carefully bland expression. What just happened here?
But they were moving again, Kenshin's stride eating up the Tokyo night faster than any guy his size should move, somehow not jarring bruises and bumps and one rib that felt just this side of cracked. Almost like lying on a futon stuffed with down...
Yahiko shook himself back awake, angry all over again. "Damn it, why did you stop me?"
"Quick and easy power, that darkness is," Kenshin said softly. "And when one's life, or the lives of those one loves, are at stake - well. Only the ki-user can say if the power is worth the cost. But you were not in such peril, Yahiko-kun. Nor was I. Victory would have been ashes in your grip. How could I not stop you?" A gentle sigh. "Are you that troubled by your lack of power, young one?"
"I just want to be stronger!" Yahiko burst out. "Strong enough I don't need your help, strong enough to defend my mother and father's pride on my own..."
"Of course," Kenshin murmured, slowing in front of a gate and courtyard that had obviously seen better days. "We're here."
Here? Yahiko blinked as Kenshin closed the gate behind them, staring down the path to the small house and dojo. Where's-
"There you are!" She was wearing kote and a brown haori over a white and blue instructor's outfit instead of a worn yellow flower-patterned kimono, but it was still the ugly black-haired girl from the market. She dusted off her hands as Kenshin set him down and slid the front shoji closed behind them. "All beaten up, I should have known... I already spoke to Dr. Gensai, we'll go right over there-"
"Yahiko-kun, this is the teacher of Kamiya Kasshin-Ryu, Kamiya Kaoru-dono," Kenshin said cheerfully, patting him on the shoulder. "She'll be your sensei from tonight. In swords... and in ki."
"Whaaaat?"
Kenshin grinned at the paired expressions of shock. "Teacher and student of one mind already. A good sign for your training."
"He's nuts," Yahiko muttered as Kenshin walked off smiling.
"Uh-huh," Kaoru agreed numbly. "Sword-students, sure, but - I can't take an apprentice!"
"Oh yeah?" Yahiko flared. "Why not?"
"W-well, because I'm not... I'm..."
"You're what, ugly?"
"Stop calling me ugly!"
---------------
Listening to the chaos break out behind him, Kenshin smiled. For a link that had only formed half a day before, that ki-bond was settling into place quite nicely.
It was how he'd truly been able to find Yahiko in time, after all; following the vague touch of linked-to-Kaoru through the back alleys and yakuza dens until he was close enough to sense the boy's ki signature directly. Not to mention, it had been a major factor in how easily he'd held Yahiko back from that destructive step into darkness; Kaoru's own light had helped hold the anger at bay.
I wonder how long it will take her to realize her fears are immaterial; she has a padawan, whether she will or no. Kenshin shook his head. At least I've already seen Shishou's fits of temper when he realized he couldn't get rid of me... I know the warning signs, I should be safe enough.
Unless she cooks.
Shuddering at the idea, Kenshin turned his thoughts toward the somewhat more comforting problem of Inspector Uramura. An Imperial who knew his name... it couldn't be good.
I may be drifting again, very soon.
After all, he'd given his word to talk.
Caught - no. Never again.
Hitokiri Battousai died on the field of Toba Fushimi. He will never rise again.
I swear it.
---------------
Yavin IV
After one peek inside the Sekihoutai's infirmary, Obi-Wan stepped out of the occupant's view. "He's ill?" It would be my luck to wind up on a plague ship.
"Miasma Fever," the dark-haired doctor shook her head. "It's not catching."
"Oh?" Obi-Wan gave Megumi Takani a searching look. For more reasons than one. Almond eyes. High cheekbones. Dark hair, almost painfully straight. Are they descendants of Humbarine's survivors? Even before the Confederacy had destroyed that planet in the Clone Wars, such exotic faces had been rare. Afterwards... Senator Bana Bremu had done her best, until the Empire rose, but the remnants of her people had become few and scattered. Most had vanished into the Core Worlds, nursing their grief as their culture died without a homeworld to bind it together. These folk have a homeworld. I can sense it. And their accent - it's something from the Outer Rim, I'm sure of it. "What is it, precisely?"
"A blood parasite," she answered matter-of-factly. "It's carried by mist midges on our planet. Usually a daily dose of hashima keeps it in check, but somebody didn't pack those herbs in the emergency supplies-" she sniffed the air, and he could all but see storm-clouds gather about her head. "You idiot!"
Curious, Obi-Wan sniffed as well, detecting nothing more than a slightly nutty, spicy scent of some sort of boiled grain dish.
Megumi stalked into the infirmary after it like a hound on the trail, hoisting a yelping Katsuhiro bodily up to drag his bowl out of hiding. "But I'm hungry!" Katsu protested.
"Then you can eat pickled vegetables and fish, you suicidal lump!" She shoved the bowl Obi-Wan's way. Bemused, he took it. Some sort of reddish grain, boiled together with vegetables and spices into a sticky mass; smelled tasty. "Kokumotsu? When you're down with Miasma? Should I just string you up by your toes and leave you for those not-rats to gnaw on?"
"Megumi-san..."
"Pickles! Fish! Fruit! Give me those chopsticks!"
Hiding a smile, Obi-Wan watched Megumi wash every last trace of boiled grain off the odd eating implements, then settle her unhappy patient back down with a new bowl of thin-sliced vegetables. A young doctor, but a good one, he judged. "Why shouldn't he have this?" he asked in a low tone as Megumi stalked back out of the infirmary, offering the bowl.
She waved it off. "You might as well eat that... I've never had a bad case of Miasma, but there's no sense in my taking any chances right now."
Fingers almost in the bowl, Obi-Wan halted. "You said it was a blood parasite."
"It is," Megumi nodded. "But the parasites need certain trace elements to reproduce. Kokumotsu's a native grain; it may be good for people, but it feeds Miasma, too."
"Then why eat it?"
"Not many other grains grow on Yamato," Megumi shrugged. "Believe me, the Empire's tried. Here - I think Sano keeps a few gaijin-style eating things in the galley..."
Yet another detail the bounty hunter left out of his report, Obi-Wan mused as he finished off his bowl in the closet-sized cabin Sano had assigned him to before the smuggler had taken off in a cargo speeder to the Rebel base. A surprise - and yet, not. Outer Rim planets didn't earn that designation by being easy to live on. Tatooine had its endless desert wastes; Yamato might have a gentler climate, if Sano's words were anything to go by, but it evidently had its own hazards.
Fed, warm, safe - and with all the water he reasonably wanted to drink. He set the bowl aside and just breathed.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
The anger was still there when he opened his eyes. The pain, of having to see the one who had been his friend and brother fallen so deeply into the dark...
But it was softened, now. Polished by this unexpected kindness like a jutting boulder by Tatooine's sand-filled winds, so that it slid easily under his mind's hand, instead of catching and tearing.
Like a boulder, or... Obi-Wan took out a lustrous, milky-hued treasure from the pouch that had never left him, relieved to find its facets still as sharp as the day he'd cut them in his workshop on Tatooine. The krayt dragon pearl was more than just a symbol of bravery and tactfulness that had let him pass mostly unmolested through the Tusken Raiders. From what he'd researched, if he was careful, it could also be used as a lightsaber's base crystal.
And I will need that.
Sobered, one of the few remaining Jedi turned his attention outward once more. Information. He had to have more information. Fortunately, he knew precisely where to get it.
The Sekihoutai's crew had left him in a small cabin with a data terminal, but of course, no access codes.
No ordinary access codes.
If this was a Jedi Medical Corps ship... Obi-Wan laid one hand against the terminal, reaching delicately in with the Force.
The terminal glowed to life, projecting the small hologram of a determined young woman in Jedi robes, long auburn hair caught back along with her padawan braid, and bright blue eyes dimmed by incredible sorrow.
"My name is Hana Firefinder. If you've found this message, you probably need to hide."
Stars...
"I am - was - padawan to Master Quidel Tenskwatawa. He's - gone now, I felt the bond shatter..." She looked away from the recording camera, obviously fighting back tears.
"We were at a mining colony with Healer Gant and her apprentice Kel Thorne in the wake of a Separatist attack. They were- Master Quidel was helping them stabilize an emergency case in trance while I brought the engines on line so we could evacuate the man to a hospital ship as soon as they got here, and- the comlink, I heard blaster shots, and Master Quidel fighting-"
Order 66. Oh, Force, it must have been then. He could feel it as if it were yesterday; the pain, the shock, the sudden sense of all he knew, all he-
Attachment is forbidden.
-All he loved, snuffed out of the universe.
"He ordered me to go. To get help, that something was wrong, he saw all of us in danger..."
We saw the danger. But we couldn't see it in time...
"And then he was gone."
Hana swallowed dryly, fingers clenching and unclenching on her robes. "Now the Temple beacon says run and hide."
We did that, Yoda and I. We gave you at least that much chance. Slim as it was.
"I guess - I guess Master Quidel didn't see it soon enough. Whatever it is. Though I've picked up some news reports about Palpatine, and some Dark Lord that follows in his footsteps..."
Vader. My fault...
"So I'm running away."
What?
"Fear leads to the Dark Side, I know it... but I am afraid. I don't know what to do. If Chancellor Palpatine is allied with the Sith... and the Senate voted him control, how can I fight all of them?"
True, so very true; why else had he and Yoda hidden, all these years? And if Jedi Masters could not stand and fight, how could he blame a padawan for fleeing?
"But right now, I don't think anyone knows who I am, or where I am. Which means I can choose where I run.
"So I'm running to Yamato."
Intrigued, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. Firefinder, I can't quite remember... but if she was Quidel's padawan, she must have been a stubborn young woman. And she had a plan?
"You've probably never heard of this planet. I wouldn't have either, if Master Quidel hadn't been friends with Watchman Rayen Ulloriaq. They used to trade such long holo-letters... anyway. She works... worked there undercover, trying to determine why a world with so many Force-sensitives has such an ancient tradition of fearing the Jedi. All I know for sure is that it's someplace I can carry a lightsaber and no one should notice me. And - if the clonetroopers are hunting sensitives, not just Jedi - maybe I can still help. I... I don't want to die alone..." Hugging herself close, she blinked back tears, then reached out to the recorder switch-
A blur of transmission, and the hologram was standing straight again. "My name is Hana Firefinder. If you've found this message, you probably need to hide..."
"End play," Obi-Wan said softly.
He drew in a long breath, let it slowly out. So. And so.
Owen was there, last any information states. And... I was there. Meaning it had to have been Watchman Ulloriaq who had plucked a young Force-sensitive out of whatever Yamato had for orphan's care. Undercover? The Jedi Order must have been curious about this planet, indeed.
As was he. Sanosuke might never have rated high enough for Temple training, but the man was obviously sensitive to the flow of the Force. Megumi felt almost as strong in it; and while Katsuhiro didn't come close to matching either of them, Obi-Wan would have bet the co-pilot's midi-chlorian count was above Galactic average.
Three sensitives on one ship. Why have I never heard of this place?
Unless... Kamino wasn't the only planet that had been wiped from the Jedi Archives. Yoda had said at least a dozen were still missing, and the Clone Wars had taken away the time they should have used to find them all...
"All right, Master," Obi-Wan murmured to empty air. "I can take a hint. Even if comes in company with a blaster bolt."
There was no reason not to go to Yamato, after all. If Sanosuke held to his word on the shuttle, and Obi-Wan believed he would, he'd have the funds to lift off elsewhere any time. Even enough to find the Rebellion again, wherever they ended up going; no matter how they might be celebrating now, they had to know they couldn't stay on this moon for long. Sooner or later, the Empire would catch up with them.
Tired, Obi-Wan leaned back on his bunk, letting his eyes drift closed. I wonder what the children are doing right now...
---------------
Han Solo looked over the shimmering white kinu fabric being splayed out by a disbelieving Rebel supply sergeant, and let out a low whistle. "You're like a bad milli-cred, Sagara. Turn up in the weirdest places." Leaning against the storeroom wall, the Corellian smuggler tsked. "Cargo like this, and you didn't take it straight to Zeltros?"
"Client said here, so here it goes," Sano shrugged, still stunned from what he'd heard. "To whoever heads up the base commander's wardrobe and ceremonies; there was a name named, but only if they showed up in person... and... I guess they won't... Alderaan is gone? Really gone?"
"Flew through the rocks myself," the smuggler said grimly. "One of the kids flying here got the bastards, though. You probably shaped an orbit around the worst of the metal junk."
Gone. A whole planet. Sano tried not to shiver. What's the Empire think they're doing?
"And just what name got named?" Solo said casually. "If you don't mind my asking."
"Guess it doesn't matter now." Sano shuddered. "Well, there were rumors that Princess Leia Organa had certain sympathies, if you know what I mean."
"Her Highness has quite a reputation." The Corellian smirked. "Sergeant, go get her."
"But Captain Solo-" the stuffy little man protested.
"Tell her she's got a load of white kinu cloth ready and waiting for that big party nobody's supposed to know about, and she can drop that fracking committee meeting for half an hour to come see it."
"I don't think-"
"Shoo." Solo nudged him out into the stone hall. "Don't you know better than to get between a princess and her new wardrobe?" He closed the door on the sergeant's muffled protest. "White kinu cloth? How in the universe did your client pull that off?"
"He didn't say, I didn't ask." Sano shrugged, uneasy under the older man's eyes. "She's alive?"
"Her Worshipfulness? Oh, definitely. Alive, kicking, blasting... Katsu's not here?"
"Someone's got to stay with the ship," Sano said casually.
"And you couldn't bring her in because...?"
"Bad feeling about this place." The younger man shrugged again. It wasn't as bad now as it had been a few hours ago, not with so much busy purpose in the air, but it was still bad. "Besides, you know Katsu likes some quiet time alone once in a while. And it's not like it was a real heavy cargo. Weapons, some food and medicine, a couple spare parts the people here put out an order for, this stuff..."
"Which has got to be worth as much as the rest of it put together," Han said appreciatively. "Keep your blaster cannons in trim, and don't let on what you're carrying. You're good, kid, but there are pirates out there who are better."
"Yeah, I know," Sano grumbled. He might be tough so far as the Yamato spaceport went, but there were slime-balls out in the galaxy who could make a Hutt shake.
"Looked like there was a note in there, too," Han observed.
"I haven't read it." Physical cargo contents were his business. Personal notes, no.
"White kinu cloth, Solo? You've got to come up with a better story than that-" Breezing through the door, the stern-faced, beautiful brunette Senator Sano had seen on a dozen holo-casts stopped just inside. "And you are?"
Sanosuke sketched a rough bow for her. "Sanosuke Sagara, Princess. Cargo transport."
"Scoundrel," Han supplied with a grin. "Be nice, your Highness. He brought you a present."
"I don't need-" Leia's eyes fell on the moon-white cloth, and her breath caught. "That's impossible."
"That's what I thought," Han nodded. "But I've met Sagara here around and about. He doesn't carry fakes." He winked at Sano. "At least, not without knowing they're fakes."
"Kinu cloth." Leia fingered the soft shimmer, brown eyes wide. "But... this only comes off Zeltros, and it's always colored..."
"Actually, Zeltros imports it from us," Sano stuck in. "But you're right. It usually is." 'Cause no Yamato weaver born could bear to let kinu threads go without color... not unless they had to, for mourning shrouds.
But the Empire didn't see white as the color of death. Even when they dressed their stormtroopers in it. Very strange people.
Leia picked up the pink-tinted paper that had nestled in the bolts, unfolding it to reveal inked characters. "I should have called Threepio-"
"Um... I can read that now. If you want," Sano offered. Cleared his mind, and his throat, casting back for the formal language of poetry Captain Sagara had taught him to filter as much meaning as possible into the Basic translation.
"Surely you have had
"Even a white robe
"Of a dyeing house."
- Saigo Takamori
Warmth and calculation mingled in brown eyes. "So he says I ask for the impossible?"
Whoa. For someone who'd never been to Yamato, she was quick. "And sometimes, you get it," Sano grinned at her. Caught Solo's considering look, and stepped back. Hey, don't worry. She's not my type. "Nice meeting you, your Highness, but I already asked your people about cargoes back, and I've got to get going..."
Not that he was actually taking any return cargo. Not with Katsu sick. But it would have looked weird if he didn't ask - and the last thing he wanted was to draw any more attention while Katsu was sick. The cloth and the shuttle were more than enough.
Time to get off this rock.
---------------
Tokyo
"Is Himura-san in?"
Kaoru felt her pulse quicken, tried not to stare at the all-too-familiar Imperial uniform just inside the dojo gate. Night's shadows still huddled around the courtyard, only grudgingly giving way to dawn. "Inspector Uramura! What a - surprise..."
Behind the glasses, a brow lifted. "He did tell you I would come, didn't he?"
Actually, he'd said something along the lines of, "Don't worry, Kaoru-dono; Uramura-san seems honorable enough to ensure any consequences of the night will fall only on this one." Which made her want to thump him twice over. Yahiko was her apprentice; how could she not take the consequences for rescuing him? "He's... um..."
"Hoping to impose on Kaoru-dono for the use of an inner room, so that we will not needlessly disturb the students coming to train," the redhead himself said from what had seemed only a shadow a moment before.
How does he do that? "Yes, that's fine, I'll..." Oh, darn it! "Inspector!" Kaoru stood straight, hand not too far from her saber. "I don't know what you want Kenshin for, but he's just a wanderer now! Whatever you do to him, you'll-" Her courage faltered; she hid a shiver, and grabbed it again. "You'll have to do to me first!"
"I'll... take that into consideration, Kamiya-san," Uramura said, startled.
"Right!" Head high, she marched off to lead the way. Now, where can I eavesdrop from?
---------------
Tea. A quiet inner room of the house, where it would be near impossible for any of Kamiya's early students to overhear them. And one utterly silent ex-assassin sitting seiza across from him.
Uramura set his teacup down, worried fear might make his hands sweaty enough to drop it. "Himura-san... why are you here?"
"Kaoru-dono invited this one to stay. For a time." Red hair tilted slightly, studying him. "And why would you be here, Uramura-san? Have you come to arrest this one?"
Uramura stifled a shaky laugh. "And make myself such a mess over Kamiya-san's clean floors?"
"You would be doing your sworn duty," the soft voice observed. "One would endeavor never to harm a man for that." Violet looked down. "One would endeavor never to harm anyone again... but still, there are the weak who fall prey to violence, and the weak of heart who deal in pain."
"Hiruma," Uramura stated. "I can understand you felt insulted-"
"Insulted?" A wry, sad smile. "Hitokiri Battousai was a murderer, Uramura-san. One whose victims were more carefully chosen than Hiruma's... but a murderer, still."
How can he say such things? "You were a hero!"
"I was Katsura's sword, until he released me," Himura said precisely. "Now... now this one is only rurouni, adrift on the sea of time. Which does seem to have washed me here, for now," he added. "Unless that would bring trouble to Kaoru-dono?"
"More likely, the other way around," Uramura sighed. "Himura-san... you probably haven't been in town long enough to know, but the Kamiya family is suspected of certain... sympathies. Bad enough Kamiya Hana was from off-world somewhere and taught Basic until she died; Kamiya Koshijirou was always loyal to the Revolution, and that name has kept his daughter from being shunned as a half-breed. But even his death in the Empire's service-"
A red brow lifted.
"In the uprising six months ago," Uramura filled in. So she hasn't mentioned it. I wonder why? "He was loyal to the last, but it's only blunted the edge of gossips' tongues. We have no proof, not yet, and I don't plan to act unless I have proof - but this dojo is suspected of fomenting sedition, and aiding and abetting traitors."
"She sought - and found - a murderer who disturbed your peace, Uramura-san. Surely that is not the act of traitor."
Uramura snorted. "The Shogunate would have said as much about the Shinsengumi."
"True."
Blinking, Uramura stared into fathomless violet. "They were enemies of the Revolution!"
"Honorable enemies. In their own way." A shadow of a smile touched Kenshin's face. "She teaches the style her father created. I do not believe she would bring dishonor to his memory."
"Well... I suppose that's true..." Off-world mother or not, Kaoru had been raised samurai. She knew what was proper. What was right.
"And you know who I am, Uramura-san. Would I reside in a nest of sedition, where dissenters plotted to overthrow the rightful government of this planet?"
"Of course not!" Though there was something blurred and off about that statement; as if the inspector couldn't quite put his finger on a thought...
"Then you know you may watch this one, and know nothing is amiss here." Kenshin bowed slightly. "Thank you for your time, Inspector. We will not keep you longer from your duties-"
"She's in danger," Uramura blurted out.
Sudden, deadly stillness across the way. "What danger?"
The room was back in focus. Must have been a trick of the light. "She's a friend of Sagara's."
"We have met."
That must have been interesting. "Someone's looking for him. Very seriously."
"Someone who is not official?" Kenshin inquired.
"If the rumors are true, no," the inspector said grimly. "The Sekihoutai left its hangar in even more of a hurry than usual. By the time the port-master deigned to notify my people there wasn't any evidence left, but I doubt he would have left some of the supplies he did if someone hadn't been shooting at him." Uramura's hands clenched on his trousers. "Rumor has it that questions are being asked about Sagara, and Tsukioka. Someone is searching out their contacts. Who they know. What their habits are. Where they relax. Who they rely on. And we both know those looking for that sort of information usually don't plan to use it in a friendly fashion."
"No. They don't."
Uramura felt chill. What did I say?
His gaze fell on the man across from him, and the chill turned into sudden, gut-wrenching terror.
"Uramura-san."
What was I thinking? Hero or not, he's a red-handed killer-
"Uramura-san," that soft voice repeated, bringing with it a wave of... calm. "Not one hair on my body wishes to return to the path of a hitokiri. This one is rurouni. Only rurouni." Violet met glassy brown, gentle as a dawn breeze. "This one is grateful for your warning. But Kaoru-dono is not helpless, to fall before an assassin's blade. She is samurai, and she will protect her school, her students, and her apprentice."
Her- Uramura almost dropped his jaw. "She took that little pickpocket as an apprentice?"
"He is Tokyo samurai," Kenshin smiled. "He needs only a chance to find the proper path once more." A shadow passed over his face. "A chance one fears those such as Gasuke may never take-"
"That one won't," Uramura said bluntly. "He was executed this morning."
Shocked violet flicked at him.
"He was a criminal with a high midi-chlorian count, Himura-san. Imperial policy is clear: rogue Jedi are not to survive."
Knuckles paled. "He was no Jedi!"
"He was arrested under suspicious circumstances, used ki in full view of Imperial witnesses - the blood test was only a formality." Uramura shook his head. I thought so. He's been wandering the lands away from the spaceport, where Imperial officers are few and far between. It's the only way he could have gone unnoticed this long. "It's the law, Himura-san."
"A law that will slay every child of samurai blood, and no few without it." Violet searched his gaze. "Uramura-san-"
"Of course, as Okubo-san and the government have determined, no one born and raised on this planet could be a Jedi," the inspector observed. "So there's no point in testing them. Unless they were, perhaps, a member of a criminal organization, who might well have traveled off-world for training. Or a Rebel..."
"I see," Kenshin said, almost soundlessly.
Thank the gods, you do. "Please be careful, Himura-san," Uramura said formally. "It would be unfortunate if someone made a... hasty mistake."
A few polite farewells, and Uramura left the dojo, absently side-stepping a cat-eyed Fireryo street rat whose concealing cloak bore traces of old blaster burns. He'll be careful. I hope.
Why do I feel like it won't be enough?
---------------
Slinking past the Imperial, Beshimi disappeared up into one of the trees outside the Kamiya dojo compound. It had taken some time and careful listening, but unlikely as it seemed, the consensus of the street was that if the men who had taken Takani were in trouble, they would come here.
A broken-down little dojo, the cat-eyed ninja sneered. Only fitting for those who would dare to harbor Takeda Kanryuu's little goose-
The tree branch slipped out from under him.
Undignified - but silent - flailing caught another before he hit the ground. Beshimi hung on for a moment, trying to determine exactly what had happened. A ninja blended into the ki of his surroundings, moving as the branches moved, stepping only when he knew his footing would hold. He should not have slipped.
But the trees were quiet now. Frowning, he climbed back up for a view inside the walls...
Creak.
What was-
Spots, was the next thing the ninja's dazed brain registered as he lurched up to a sitting position on cold, damp ground; flashing lights that experience told Beshimi heralded a mild concussion. He blinked, and blinked again, blurred eyes coming back into focus on a chunk of storm-broken dead branch spotted with his blood. The last threads of wood holding it aloft must have chosen just the right moment to fray completely, gravity doing the rest. What rotten luck!
"There are those who say," a quiet voice interrupted his mental curses, "there is no such thing as luck."
Beshimi jerked himself up to a crouch, staring at the small, redheaded swordsman casually perched atop the dojo fence. Automatically he reached out for his opponent's ki, seeking the measure of the man-
To feel his probe slid aside, like a leaf spun through river backwash. "Who are you?"
"This one is only a rurouni." Red bangs cast violet into shadow. "But one does not think you were invited here; that I don't. And it may well be the trees think so as well; for ki moves through us all, and we hearken to it - or ignore it at our peril."
A samurai! Mustering his will, Beshimi vanished.
But the swordsman did not flinch, holding his impossible perch on the fence and listening. "Sagara," he said to what he had to see as empty air, "is not here. One would suggest you ask after him later, in the proper manner, or Kamiya-sensei may well feel herself forced to deal with you. And one thinks she would not be as gentle as the trees, that I do."
Creak.
No fool, Beshimi retreated.
Who is this man?
But it scarcely mattered; he saw the bright flash of a ship's sublight drives heading into the port. The silhouette was right; all he had to do was raise the alarm, and the Okashira would have the Sekihoutai surrounded-
Thunk.
As the ground came up and stole his senses, he realized it was the same branch.
Damn samurai...
---------------
Darkness. Hot, painful darkness.
"-Ice-"
"-How long?-"
"-Not from Yamato, how-"
Light, cutting in and out with the pressure of worried hands on him, a fear that curled through the Force like smoke. The touch of chill wet cloth against his skin, almost sizzling against the fiery heat.
"-Shouldn't have hit that fast-" Sanosuke. Worried.
"Tokyo Miasma wouldn't have hit that fast!" Megumi snapped. "This is something else, something worse-"
"Kanto Plain." An older man, matter-of-fact; presence a healer's tightly-controlled worry in Obi-Wan's blurry sense of the Force. "He's dying."
Dying? Obi-Wan struggled to collect himself. Me?
"Hmm... not yet," Qui-Gon's voice murmured in his ears. "But if you don't find help soon..."
"The Imperial hospital-" Megumi started.
"Are you crazy, fox-lady? You can't go near there, and neither can I!" Sanosuke's stride thumped through the room. "Gensai - maybe you can dose him up on sedatives, so he's not throwing things-"
What?
"You've been delirious, my padawan," the spirit shrugged. "Not a good state for any Jedi."
Oh stars... and we were on a ship...
"His grasp on ki is all that's kept him alive this long, Sano. And it wouldn't do any good," the elderly healer said bluntly. "The parasites are all through him. A bacta tank might buy him another week. Or not. He needs... a kind of help that doesn't exist in Tokyo anymore."
"Are you-" Obi-Wan swallowed dryly. "Are you quite sure?"
"Sweet kami, you're awake," Gensai breathed. "Here - drink as much of this as you can manage, it's better drunk than taken in the blood..."
A bitter liquid was pressed to his lips. Obi-Wan grimaced, but swallowed; blurry as his sense of others was, Gensai felt only of the wish to help, and the gnawing doubt that anything he might do would be enough. "What- what is-"
"Hashima," Gensai said briskly, helping him lean back against a padded cushion. "Grown near here; not as refined as what you'd get in an Imperial hospital, but it's strong, and it's what we have. From what Megumi-san tells me of the swift onset of your symptoms, and their severity... you have Kanto Plain Miasma. It hasn't killed you yet, but it's trying very hard."
"But... I'm not from..."
"So Megumi told me, Kenobi-san, yet Sanosuke insists you have been on Yamato before. Miasma can hide in your system for decades. You only need to catch it once."
The universe hates me. Obi-Wan kept his eyes slits, barely glancing at the clean, quiet room, all painted paper walls and mat-covered floors. Looking too hard made his stomach lurch. "You said... there is another treatment?"
"Well... there has been, in the past," Gensai said reluctantly. "It's considered an ancient superstition - at least around Tokyo. Certainly not something anyone with... Imperial entanglements... would go looking for."
"I assure you, Dr. Gensai, Imperial entanglements are one fate I sincerely wish to avoid," Obi-Wan said in a thin whisper. "And I am more than familiar with how truly useful ancient superstitions may be."
"That may well be, young man, but unfortunately I have no idea where to find anyone who might know-"
Obi-Wan tried to lift a brow at that sudden silence. Felt his eyelid barely flicker. "You've thought of something."
Unease moved about Gensai. "I'll have to sedate you."
"You said..."
"Yes. I did. But-" Gensai took his pulse. "You're about to have another attack, very soon. From what little I know, the procedure is - risky. To both sides. If he even knows it, if he's willing to try..."
"Do as you think best, Doctor," Obi-Wan said. Or tried to say; the universe blazed up again, and sanity was lost in the flames.
:Easy.:
Cool within the fires; like night-deep shade, on a blazing summer day. He fled to it. Clung to it.
:Easy. Be at peace.:
He sighed, letting that other approach as near as he wished. He could almost imagine himself back on Coruscant, with a Healer soothing away a fever...
:This will hurt.:
Darkness swallowed him.
No! I will not fall, I will not-
:Don't fight me!:
Oh, but he would; he was Jedi, and he would die before he would fall into that Darkness-
:You'll kill us both!:
For one split second, he hesitated; it was one thing to allow himself to die, another to kill...
And the shadowy other reached within him, linking their Force signatures together with a wisp like gossamer durasteel.
:You are dying, Kenobi-san. Fight, and you may kill me - you will kill yourself. And that, I will not allow.
:I was asked to aid you. And aid you I will. Even if I must bind your soul with my own. You sense what lies between us; you know what will happen, should you attack me.:
It might well be worth it. Bound to a Sith-
:Hate is of the Dark Side.: The thought was cool, almost amused. :Will you then attack me, Jedi? And become what you... hate?:
...And someone was being entirely too logical for his peace of mind.
:You would not attack a medicine. Or a surgical instrument.: A silent sigh. :I do not ask that you trust me, or appreciate me, or even feel a moment's kindness. Simply allow me to work, and I will leave you.:
And... he wasn't lying. Obi-Wan could feel it.
:Now. As I said. This will hurt.
:...I will not be offended if you scream.:
---------------
White-faced, Kaoru waited outside Dr. Gensai's clinic, covering Yahiko's ears against the growing shrieks. Wishing there were someone to cover her own-
Sano's hands closed gently on her head, muffling the sounds to near-bearable groans. She glanced up at him, offering a weak, grateful smile. He gave her a shadow of his usual smirk, and drew her closer, like the big brother he'd been for years.
I'm just glad Gensai-san sent Ayame and Suzume away with Tae, Kaoru thought with a shiver. If the two Force-sensitive little girls had had to hear this...
Lucky for us, they won't.
"In my experience," her mother's voice murmured in memory, "there's no such thing as luck."
Kaoru drew in a sharp breath, recalling the grim sound of Dr. Gensai's voice on the comm when he'd asked if they could come over to help. Did he know what would happen? What's going on in there?
And how long could they wait here in plain view of the street, when Inspector Uramura had all but said someone criminal was looking for Sano?
Though in a way, the screams were their own frail screen of protection. There were enough curious-but-pretending-not-to-be passers-by in the street to make anyone with more lethal intent far, far too obvious for a killer's comfort.
Kaoru half-closed her eyes, stretching out her feelings. Curious... nervous... watchful...
No hate. No red rage.
Maybe they're not there. Sano hasn't been on-planet that long, after all; it could take time for word to get around.
Or maybe I'm just not good enough...
Quit that! Kaoru told herself fiercely. Fear leads to the Dark Side. Do the best you can, and trust the Force for the rest. It's worked this far, right?
Right. She was alive, and Yahiko was settling into the dojo, and Gohei was off the streets for good. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe a real Jedi Knight would have done better - but she hadn't done too badly.
She hoped.
It seemed an eternity before the awful sounds stopped, and a pale redhead walked outside. "Kenshin!" He's shaking, oh stars...
"Kaoru... dono." He looked down, but not before she caught a glimpse of something that froze her heart. No.
But she'd given him shelter. He'd warned her. She had to know.
Deliberately, she stepped close enough to meet that shy gaze, to see-
Amber, fading into steely blue.
No! "Why?" Kaoru demanded, catching him in a durasteel hug. Kami, no wonder he was shaking, he was so cold... "Why would you do that? Why would you go back there?"
"There was no other way."
"There's always another way!"
"No. Kaoru-dono - no." Tired eyes met her gaze again, hints of amber flickering out. "Miasma is alive. The person it is killing is alive. One can only live if the other perishes. And the Light... does not lend itself to that. Only the Dark." Callused fingers rested against her cheek. "If it were you so afflicted, I would do so again, and - I would not care that you would hate me, if only you lived..."
Wide-eyed, she froze.
Wordless, he stumbled back. "Forgive... this one is very tired, that I am. Can - may we go home now, Kaoru-dono? Please?"
"Out on your feet and you didn't even get a good drunk out of it," Sano grumbled. "Just not fair being samurai, is it?" One-armed, he scooped up the redhead.
"Sanosuke!"
"Stop being an idiot." Sano marched down the street toward the dojo, deliberately glaring slowpokes out of his way so Kaoru and Yahiko could walk unhindered in his wake. "I've seen Kaoru put people into healing trances. She's a dishrag after." He cleared his throat. "Doesn't sound like that's what you did, but... what did you do, anyway? Hang on, we're almost there."
Kenshin sighed, and let himself be carried. Kaoru bit her lip as she followed them through the dojo gate. Kenshin took down a whole gang and wasn't tired. What did he do?
Though maybe she was just worried about that because it was easier than worrying about the woman Sano and Katsu had brought home, currently zonked out on a futon by Katsu's sickbed after keeping both Miasma patients alive long enough to get here.
Ridiculous, Kaoru told herself firmly. I am Jedi. I don't concern myself with outer appearances. Even when someone is... tall, and elegant, and pretty... and really, really seems to think Kenshin is adorable...
Right. What that vixen Takani Megumi did or didn't think about her redheaded boarder wasn't any of Kaoru's business. What that redhead had done with the Dark Side - that's what she had to worry about.
Sandals and boots off, they gathered inside around a pot of tea. Kenshin cupped his in his hands as if he would soak in every last drop of warmth. "It is... not something which should be mentioned around... authorities."
"Um, duh," Yahiko muttered. "I haven't heard anything like that since the last time Tanishi let some of his guys make an example out of somebody." He gave Kenshin a sidelong look.
"Izuma-ki was originally meant for torment and battle, that it was," Kenshin admitted. "Its medicinal applications were only discovered later, by accident."
Izuma-ki... Force lightning? Kaoru blanched. That's a Sith technique! How... "You can't use the Dark Side to heal!"
"Healing," Kenshin said levelly, "was not what he needed." Still steel-blue, his gaze sought Yahiko's. "What is Miasma?"
"Um... a kind of bug inside, right?" the youngster ventured. "It eats your blood, and makes you sick."
"Not exactly," Kaoru stepped into the conversation, relieved to have an idea where to start educating her student. "It's a little life-form, related to the algae that grows in kokumotsu fields. Only instead of living in the water, it lives in blood; animals, people, some flyers. A mist-midge bites someone who's infected, the Miasma spawns inside them, then flows back into someone else with another bite. The little Miasma cells look for your blood cells, wiggle inside, and start eating and breeding in another form. Eventually there's too many of them in the blood cell, and it bursts, and the Miasma starts looking for other blood cells to infect."
"These breeding events go in cycles, which is why one ill with Miasma may seem fine, then deathly ill, then only sick, then deathly ill again," Kenshin nodded. "But if you become ill with Miasma, Yahiko-kun - you must not use the healing trance Kaoru-dono will teach you."
"That's-" Ridiculous, Kaoru almost said. The healing trance drew on the Light Side to strengthen every cell in a Jedi's body-
Oh. Oh, no.
"Miasma... isn't like most illnesses," Kaoru said numbly. "It's not a virus; it's not even a bacteria. It's more related to us, that's how it gets past the body's defenses in the first place. If you put yourself in a healing trance, and Miasma is already breeding..."
"It breeds faster, and one runs a strong risk of dying, even with a gentler strain such as Tokyo Miasma," Kenshin nodded. "There have been many samurai wounded on the battlefield who died not of their injuries, but of the Miasma that bred while they were healing."
"Whoof." Sano shook his head. "And here I thought you samurai types had advantages over the rest of us."
"No more than you do being a pilot, Sano-san," Kenshin smiled wearily. "Ki is a powerful ally, hai - but like all allies, it demands respect, and it has its cost."
Yahiko leaned forward. "But you slammed that Miasma, right? Ow!"
Kaoru put down the training bokken. "You are not learning how to do that, Yahiko!"
"What do you mean, I'm not-"
"Your sensei has said no," Kenshin said bluntly. "And she is correct. Hashima would have been safer. Far safer." He glanced at her. "But there was no more time."
Sano ducked his head. "All right, all right! It goes right in the emergency kit next time, all right? First thing loaded on. He just- I'd already dosed Katsu when he fell down, and he got sick so fast..."
"Hey." Kaoru touched his shoulder. "You got him here, right? I know you, Sano. I know you did the best you could." She gave him a serious look. "Think about what would have happened if he'd just traded with you for some supplies and gone off on his own."
"Ugly way to die," the smuggler shuddered. Straightened, brown eyes alive with pure curiosity. "But what'd you do, Kenshin?"
Kenshin hesitated. Looked at Yahiko. "It is very dangerous."
So what path do you take? Kaoru asked herself, heart pounding. Do you hide the truth, and hope Yahiko never goes looking? Or do you try to get information about the pit, so you don't stumble in by accident? The swordswoman swallowed. Rubbed sweaty palms surreptitiously on her hakama. "I think you'd better tell us. Otherwise... one of us might be tempted to experiment."
Kenshin inclined his head. "Hiten Mitsurugi is very old. My shishou told many tales of its history, and how one practitioner after the next has sought out ways to improve; but at the beginning, he said, it was formed by two. A Jedi of the Old Republic, lost here millennia before the Senate's forces discovered us again... and a Watcher in the Dark, heir to traditions shaped on this world since it was founded by refugees from some long-forgotten war."
A Watcher... a ninja? Kaoru wondered. 'Kaasan said she thought their techniques had Sith origins. Or something like them. Even if they're not always Dark these days- how could a Council-trained Jedi ever trust one enough to work with them?
How could a ninja help create a style that had the gentle blow?
"Izuma-ki is violent, and dangerous, and it kills," Kenshin stated. "But as it can be used to torment, it can also leave victims alive. So. If one is skilled, and careful, and has had demonstrated exactly how to do it, so one can do more damage to Miasma than to the patient - then one can use the Dark Side as a knife, to cut away enough of the illness that the patient may live." Near violet again, his gaze fixed on Yahiko. "It is a cruel knife. It brings suffering. And if one is not very careful, and quick to release the darkness once the task is done... it is addictive, Yahiko-kun. One can do - horrible things."
Yahiko gulped. "Tanishi said you were a hitokiri."
"One was. Years ago." Kenshin bowed his head. "One hopes never to be so again. Ever."
"Did you-" Yahiko swallowed dryly. "Hurt people?"
"Many."
All right, all right - enough gloom and doom! "But it's done now, and you're not calling on the darkness in my dojo," Kaoru said firmly. "Stars, right now it doesn't look like you could even pour the tea without using your hands."
"Perhaps not even with one's hands, Kaoru-dono," Kenshin said ruefully, glancing down as his fingers trembled against his cup. "To call only as much darkness as is needed, only enough - anger - and no more... it costs. One could quite easily sleep right here."
"I think I can pour you into bed," Sano said dryly, standing. "C'mon."
"But the danger-"
"I've been in trouble before, and so has Jou-chan. Katsu may not be up to snuff yet, but between us I think we can handle things long enough for you catch some shut-eye." Sano raised an eyebrow.
Kenshin sighed, and managed a tired smile. "How can one refuse?"
"That's the ticket..."
A few minutes later, and Sano was back, sitting down with a troubled look. "Don't try to go into his room quiet, Jou-chan. In fact, don't go into his room, period. Stand out in the hall and bang something when you want him up. He's curled up around his lightsaber the way some of Captain Sagara's veterans used to be; the real old hands, who went through the worst of the Revolution and came out alive."
"Kenshin wouldn't..." The words died in Yahiko's throat.
Sano sighed. "He wouldn't mean to, kid-"
"I'm not a kid!" Yahiko jumped to his feet. "I'm Myoujin Yahiko! Tokyo samurai!"
"Sagara Sanosuke," Sano said dryly. "Pilot, cargo hauler, and scoundrel. Got a problem with that?"
Yahiko reddened.
"Like I was saying," Sano went on, "he wouldn't mean to. But he's a dangerous guy. Right, Jou-chan? 'Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny'?"
"That's what 'Kaasan said," Kaoru nodded, wondering once again just who her mother had been quoting. It'd sounded weird, even for Basic. "But... she also said that since she'd come here, she'd learned there were people who managed to pull out of the darkness. Not many. But some." And Kenshin's one of them. I hope.
Kaoru straightened her shoulders, setting that thought aside. "So. Whose tail did you step on this time?"
"Believe you me, I'm still trying to figure that out..."
---------------
Translations and info:
Hashima - "striped leaf".
Hitokiri - "manslayer", assassin.
Izuma-ki - "spirit lightning".
'Kaasan - Mother.
Kokumotsu - grain, cereal.
Kote - "armor sleeves", also (from Mando'a) "glories"; leather hand-guards.
Seiza - formal sitting stance, sitting on the backs of your heels.
Shishou - Master. Archaic term.
Shoji - outer sliding door-screen.
