Scratching absently at the base of one of his horns, Densetsu Kawa let his mind wander, waiting for the hide to tell him the best cuts he could garner from it.

"...How in the galaxy did you keep track?" A human male's voice, from the street outside, with an accent both antique and foreign at once.

"Well," a younger man replied, "if they were coming at one with blades drawn and anger in their hearts, one could usually assume they were not friendly..."

The gray-haired Zabrak glanced up as the pair of possible customers passed through the decorous bamboo curtain shielding his shop's contents from easy view on the street. Leather might be necessary and even vital in some areas, but its handling was considered vile, and not fit for modest eyes. Samurai weren't nearly as touchy as townsmen about the whole spiritual pollution aspect - they lived with death every day, what right had they to sneer? - but even they weren't comfortable with leather-workers. Though they had a harder time dealing with his fellow human tradesmen than a crotchety old humanoid like himself.…

And Kawa registered the colors of hair tied back over that plain samurai garb, and blinked. Sun hair? And a Fireryo-blood. Now, there's something you don't see everyday. "Yes, gentlesirs?" he said gruffly. Thank the kami, he didn't have to stoop; a full-grown Zabrak might be taller than all but the largest samurai, but the elder human had enough inches to look him in the eye.

Twin bows, graceful as falling leaves; he hastily set the hide down and bowed back. Manners. Huh. Either they haven't been in the city long, or they're stubborn.

"I am Kenobi Obi-Wan, guest of the Kamiya dojo," the older human began.

Ah. Stubborn.

"My companion, Himura Kenshin. We were recommended to the shop of Master Densetsu as having the skill to craft kote to the old specifications."

"Recommended by who?" the Zabrak asked warily. He'd dealt with Kamiya for years, the same as he had every other dojo still hanging on in Tokyo under the Empire. Kami, he'd measured Kamiya Kaoru for her full-size kote not three months ago, when it was clear Koshijirou's little girl wasn't going to grow anymore. She had more sense than to hand out his name to guests, samurai or not.

"The keeper of Serifu," Kenshin said mildly. "It would seem his dealers in such goods have been... lax in their requirements."

"Hah! I'll bet they have." Densetsu caught the glint of humor in Kenobi's odd blue-green eyes, and wondered just how this pair had presented that idiot Sokki with the kind of indisputable proof that had that spineless profit-grubber sending samurai his way. Hmm... Himura's carrying a lightsaber. That would have done it. "'Miji! The counter."

"Yes, Father." Momiji hurried out of the back room, dark hair pulled back from her crown of horns, brown and orange kimono fluttering in the door breeze as she cast a curious glance at their customers.

Don't get ideas, little one. His youngest daughter might finally be old enough to marry, true, but even if humans and Zabrak sometimes did wed, samurai tended to keep to their own. Then again, they've manners, and grace; and there aren't that many Zabrak in Tokyo these days that we aren't related to, Densetsu admitted to himself as he escorted the pair back behind the second curtain to the public workroom. The shop's doing well, as are the rest of the family's businesses. A love-child, if she wants one - I could live with it. "Hands."

"One brought measurements," Kenshin began.

"I'm sure you did, Himura-san. Hands."

Kenobi offered first; Densetsu took the right, then the left, pushing up each sleeve to pore over the intricate form of callus, scars, muscle and bone. Dominant right, trained to either; out of training, if not out of practice, for some time. Serious fight recently; can't blame him for wanting a refitting. "Kamiya Kasshin?"

"Yes, mostly..."

The Zabrak nodded at that note of caution. "The kote don't differ that much, but if you're mostly on the defense, I find it's good to reinforce along the forearm." Picking up a stylus and datapad, he made his notes, then turned to the younger samurai.

Reluctantly, a small hand slipped into his.

Huh. A samurai, doing laundry? Well, ronin do what they have to, to get by. He's been careful; doesn't let it wear at the callus. Small and fine, but a similar bone structure... related? Densetsu wondered. Tch, they would have said; humans and Fireryo just look alike, that's all. Not their fault they don't have horns. Dominant right, both trained... He blinked as he turned the youth's other palm up, finally registering what those matching white scars had to mean. "Himura-san!"

"It's nothing, Densetsu-san-"

"A blade-catch is not nothing, young man." The Zabrak let out a slow breath as he regarded that mark of bravery, or idiocy. Or both. "You should have been wearing kote-"

"One was." The redhead swallowed. "One was - very tired. And one's opponent, quite skilled, and desperate."

"Offensive style," the leather-worker muttered, reading the form of muscle and bone. "A little thing like you? Built on speed, of course... which school?"

A hesitation. "Hiten Mitsurugi."

Red hair. The cross-shaped scar. The scar of a blade-catch - oh, kami, of course that scar! - from the fight against Darkness that rumor claimed had nearly shattered Choushuu Ishin Shishi and Shinsengumi alike in one storm-tossed Kyoto night...

I am holding the hand of the Hitokiri Battousai.

"Densetsu-san." Kenobi steadied him as the room went gray, alarm drawing auburn brows down. "Perhaps some water-"

"Yes, thank you, gracious sirs," the leather-worker said gratefully, leaning on his stool with one hand. "It's been a hot day, and I'm afraid I'm not as young as I used to be." Kami, what do I do? What do I say?

He was never a monster, Koshijirou's voice echoed in his memory. Only a young man with a perilous gift, caught in the madness with the rest of us.

I owe him my life, Kawa. I owe him - everything...

Easy enough to say when you're not staring him down in your own shop, Kamiya, Densetsu thought now, accepting the offered cup with a wary glance at the younger man. Damn. That is the Demon of Kyoto? He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly.

Then again, kitsune could look like a simple birdbath, too. Until an ataru chased a hito through - and wound up dinner itself.

Assassin, the leather-worker reminded himself. If you want to get out of this alive, Densetsu, don't make a scene. "I've never crafted kote for your style before."

"One would be quite surprised if you had, Densetsu-san. It is... rare." The redhead smiled innocently, fangs almost invisible. "Simple is usually best. One prefers to avoid fighting."

The Zabrak stifled a snort of pure disbelief. The most feared Imperialist of the Revolution, and he didn't want to fight?

Then again, war changes people, the ancient leatherworker acknowledged. It changed Koshijirou. He went off just another young samurai itching for a real fight; came back quiet and sober, and reworked his family's whole style toward defense instead of attack. Even married a gaijin!

Though he'd have to admit, Hana was one of the better things to happen to Koshijirou. The sad, frightened little foreigner cast up like flotsam from the end of the Clone Wars had brought out that protective side young Kamiya had tried to drown after the Shogunate fell; made him willing to wear his lightsaber again, like a proper samurai, bringing honor back to his dojo. Made him smile again.

Take the man at his word, Densetsu told himself soberly. Simple probably is best. Let's see... He stepped back to the farthest corner of the workroom. "Draw."

A red blur, and violet hummed to life. Flicked out again, instants before a breeze might have brushed dangling leather against the blade.

So fast! The Zabrak shook his head. "Given the circumstances, Himura-san, I think I'd better see your outside draw as well. And - have you used wakizashi?" Has he ever. "Light-dagger, or vibro-knife?"

"Either." A flicker of a smile. "Though one prefers a simple tenbesukaa blade. One has - er - ended up in a few rivers."

The Kamo, the Kawa, every other little freshet around Kyoto... oh, and let's not forget those sea-raids on Shogunate warships, Densetsu thought wryly. Even if the rumors likely had grown in the telling - well, he'd heard Koshijirou's stories of how proud, vicious Saitou Hajime, Captain of the Third Squad of the Shinsengumi, had once been fished out of the Kamo river like a drowned rat. Chasing Battousai over bridges was a bad idea.

Then again, chasing Battousai anywhere had been a bad idea. If not a fatal one, for all but a few of the strongest Shogunate fighters...

Carefully not thinking about that, Densetsu beckoned the pair back through the long, thin corridor that led from the shop past his family's living quarters, to the garden courtyard they shared with other wealthy non-humans. Someone's laundry fluttered in the breeze across the green; a trio of young Fireryo tussled gold and striped a few houses down. They pulled fanged faces at him, then backed off in stumbling haste as he hung out the warning lanterns.

"That should do," he said at last, shooting one more glance at the youngsters to be sure they kept well away. Samurai tended to be careful, but the last thing they needed was a stupid youngling mistake. "Begin."

It was like watching lightning.

No one can draw that fast!

Yet Himura did, again and again; bare-handed or with borrowed kote, single-bladed or with the vibro-blade wakizashi Densetsu had retrieved from his storeroom. Standing still or crossing the width of the courtyard in one bound; crouched or leaping or twisting in midair like a leaf in a whirlwind. He was a whisper of dawn breeze and a rushing gale; flame and the flickering shadow it cast.

"That'll do," Densetsu said at last, all too aware of the dropped young jaws edging ever closer to the lanterns. Damn. Well, I've said there aren't enough challenges in my life.

"Not as pretty as a place like Serifu," he said a few minutes later, escorting them back to the workroom, "but I know experts like yourselves prefer to see the craft firsthand." He opened a sugi-wood chest, taking out supple chestnut that shimmered with hints of green, violet, and rare, precious sparks of crimson. "Swift kill, as you can see; a quick knife, or arrow to the eye. None of this trapping nonsense that stresses the beast. And as for poisoning the ametrine, well-!"

"You have good relations with the forest hunters," Himura nodded.

"Some are family," Densetsu acknowledged. "All of them know I pay them what they're worth. I know city samurai such as yourselves don't hunt the beasts, but let me tell you, they're no easy kill."

"I imagine they wouldn't be," Kenobi murmured, glancing at his companion. Quirking an auburn brow up, as if he saw a glint of humor in Himura's perfectly straight face. "Well. I would be most interested in hearing the merits of your work, Densetsu-san..."

Damn good bargainer, that Kenobi, the leather-worker thought ruefully a quarter-hour later, taking out the treated kinu thread and powerful laser-needle he'd need to sew leather to leather. Knows what he's worth, and what I am. And how to slip extra coin into his companion's stack without being obvious.

Not that he'd charged an unreasonable price. The sheer challenge of shaping kote for one with such skills... it was payment in itself.

It'd simply never occurred to him that the government's hero could be poor.

But he's not part of the government, is he? Densetsu realized. Legend says he left just after the Revolutionaries won their power; and Koshijirou said himself they all worked on promises and just enough rice to eat before then. Kami, Koshijirou's back wages didn't catch up with him until just before Kaoru was born. He could still remember how worried the Kamiyas had been; Hana had been on strict bed rest, unable to teach, and Koshijirou and his aging father had been holding the dojo together with dawn-to-dusk work and sheer reckless nerve.

The greatest of Revolutionaries... is a ronin, washing laundry to get by.

A ronin who'd somehow found trouble enough to drive him to armor again. Densetsu shuddered at the thought. What in the galaxy could get Battousai worried?

Saigo's reward? He's strong enough to take any twenty of the damn Rebels-

But not any forty, or hundred, the Zabrak admitted in his heart. Not if they came with blasters, and stun-rifles, and ki-collars.

That drew another shudder. He wasn't sensitive enough to be a ki-user, not like some few of his kin, but he'd felt a collar once in his past. The cold wasteland it made of the world; the way leather felt flat and empty under his fingers, lifeless as plastic...

His kinsman had rescued him then, slaughtering that band of slavers with the deadly efficiency of a Zabrak ninja. And asked nothing in return.

There would be no one to rescue Battousai.

Saigo can keep his damn reward, Densetsu vowed, sweeping his fingers over hides to find the one that called to the kote-image in his mind. I won't yield anyone up to that.

...As long as he stays away from my daughter!

---------------

"-And turn! Hira-chan, you're dropping your elbow again..."

She's not bad, Obi-Wan thought, eyes half-closed as he sat to the side and listened to Kaoru's afternoon class. Apparently it was quite acceptable for visiting ronin to simply sit, watch, and meditate, the better to offer insights to the sensei later, with polite discretion. Or so Kaoru had said in a hissed-breath hurry when her errant pair of samurai had finally straggled in, packages in hand; pointing him toward the dojo before she dashed off to meet her students.

Kenshin had escaped, zipping out of sight toward the garden, the kitchen, and preparations for the evening meal. To Yahiko's evident relief; the boy had muttered something about "ugly" and "burning boiled rice" before accurately reading the storm-clouds hovering around his teacher and dashing dojo-ward himself.

Well, I can't say as I mind just sitting here, Obi-Wan thought tiredly. It's been a long day. And Kaoru seems to be a rather good teacher, even if a Temple youngling could plaster most of her students across the wall.

"There are limits to what anyone can teach those not sensitive to the Force," Qui-Gon observed, settling down beside him. "They'll be skilled enough with their chosen weapons. And the discipline is good for her padawan. She doesn't have Council missions to go on; training others shows Yahiko that her responsibilities are larger than just himself, as his will later be when he attains his own mastery."

:They are bound, then?: Obi-Wan asked his old master silently. For nineteen years, he'd been the crazy hermit of the Jundland Wastes because he had to be; he was not going to be seen talking to empty air on this planet. Not if he could help it.

"As well as you and I ever were, my young one. Or as Kenshin and... well." Qui-Gon smiled, translucent form shimmering with unheard laughter.

:He's still an apprentice?: Now, that was startling. Unless - civil wars caused great chaos and disorder. Add that to the fact that he'd given up his own lightsaber, at least until circumstances led him to build a new one... that spoke of the kind of gaping emotional wounds Obi-Wan hadn't seen since the Clone Wars. :An Orphan?:

"He will tell you in his own time, I think." A thick brow went up. "You ask me about Himura, Obi-Wan? Not Kaoru?"

:Kaoru is easy enough to read.: Straightforward and honest and truly, utterly believing in the goodness of those about her, blazing with determination to fight the darkness after Megumi, no matter what the odds. It almost broke his heart, even as it left him breathless with the need to help her. A need that had apparently gathered in his redheaded friend as well, for all the rurouni's talk of vanishing into the wind. :Kenshin... is a puzzle.:

"Years and customs may be different here, but her training is still partly of Coruscant," Qui-Gon observed. "Outside of native variations, like the kote, Kamiya Kasshin holds few mysteries for you. But Kenshin's training is of this world, and you are intrigued."

:Of this world, but with a Code we have not used in thousands of years,: Obi-Wan stated. :Yet... it is still a Jedi Code.: He sighed. :And if it had remained our Code, then perhaps...:

"Anakin might not have fallen?" Qui-Gon shook his head. "The past is past, my padawan. Anakin chose to fall. You chose to oppose him, and the Darkness he serves. Hana chose to hide, and nurture sparks of Light, and hope one day they might blaze bright in this planet's defense. Not a grand dream, perhaps. But it followed the will of the Force... and in time, I think, it will trouble Vader more than any of your fellow survivors' desperate ambushes."

Ambush attempts that had only succeeded in getting those Jedi killed, and feeding more gore to the Empire's propaganda machines. :So, patience, then?: Obi-Wan smiled wryly. :But what of the Rebellion? Of the children?:

"Your young charges are currently safe enough on Yavin IV," Qui-Gon assured him. "Fortunately for them, you were not with Luke long enough to train him more than you did. He's not open enough to the Force for the Dark influences there to gain a foothold. Not yet." Translucent eyes went distant. "And by the time he can leave that planet to seek further along the way, his companions will know him well. They will know Luke Skywalker, the pilot; and so, if all goes well, they will know and accept Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight."

Yes; that he and Yoda had discussed often over the years. Though Order 66 had killed many, there had been survivors who had not gone after Vader. Survivors who, all too often, had died because their fellow citizens feared and hated them, and turned in anyone with a hint of "unnatural" powers. We were too separate from our fellow citizens, Obi-Wan thought sadly. Too different. Perhaps, if all of us had been more like the Corellian Jedi, able to marry and share some of the trials and frustrations of more ordinary folk... if we had made more of an effort to live among them, not simply met them on missions... But one was Jedi, or not. That was the Code. That was the way.

"Only the Sith deal in absolutes," Qui-Gon murmured.

:That's rude, Master.: The implication sank in, and Obi-Wan fought not to pale. :You don't mean...?:

"Yoda still won't believe it, but I know what I have felt in what remains of the Archives," his master sighed. "I believe the Clone Wars were merely the last move in a game the Sith have played for over three thousand years. A game that taunted and weakened us like a million sand-flea bites, each sipping away some of our strength, our flexibility. Denying us families, because Jedi might turn on the death of their loved ones. Denying emotions, when all beings have them. Denying training or choice of path past certain ages, when of old masters chose based on who they thought fit to learn, so that all Jedi might be trained to certain standards. Predictable standards." Ghostly fingers brushed benediction over his brow. "You yourself can attest that some of us take longer to show our promise than the Council would like."

:But... you truly think the Sith could have-: He couldn't finish the thought.

"It would only have taken a few charismatic individuals, nudging the Council a little at a time over the centuries. And once Yoda himself became Grand Master, to teach every youngling for century upon century... then I think our fate was sealed."

:That's a horrible thought, Master!:

"Yet you don't disagree?" Qui-Gon regarded him with interest. "A week ago, I think you would have, my young one. Is this world so very different, that it has changed you so?" His voice dropped. "Are these people so very different?"

:It's not that they're different; it's that they're the same!: Obi-Wan paused, watching students flow and stumble over the polished floor as he weighed that thought. :I... met a Zabrak today, Master.:

"Yes?"

:He was a good person. Not a Jedi; possibly not even as pure of intent as that rascal Sanosuke. But he was a good being.: Obi-Wan hesitated. :It didn't hurt. To look at him. To talk to him. I was - surprised.:

"It has been some years since my death, Padawan." That hawk-nosed head tilted. "You believe that surprise unbalanced you?"

:My surprise led me to overlook his surprise,: Obi-Wan admitted. :There was... an undercurrent, when he spoke to Kenshin. I don't think I was paying enough attention. It bothers me.:

"Tell me."

:I think Kenshin frightened him.: The living Jedi frowned. :I don't think he meant to... yet he expected it. Tried to hide it. And Densetsu did as well. And those children... they acted as if they'd never seen Tràkata before.:

"And why should they have? They're not Temple younglings, after all."

:Master, samurai aren't Jedi. Surely, there must be a few besides Master Yoda who practice something so... easily Dark...:

Qui-Gon waited.

:Vos,: Obi-Wan realized. :Himura reminds me of Quinlan Vos, or Aayla Secura. Shadowed souls, yet still Jedi, and determined not to fall any farther into the Dark.:

"He did fall once, my young one," the spirit said softly. "And as he's told you, he knows much of Jedi - yet not enough. He knows how iron Coruscant's Code can be."

:But not that it can forgive?: Obi-Wan regarded his old friend. :What did he do?:

"Ask yourself, what is he doing now?" Qui-Gon smiled. "Patience, Obi-Wan. You've dealt with Redeemed Jedi before. Patience, and remember."

And he was gone.

I should have let Vader kill me and transcended, Obi-Wan groused silently. It has to be better to be dropping the cryptic hints than to be the poor, incarnate soul trying to figure them out!

---------------

"Hasn't anyone told you you're supposed to be a wild animal?"

Squeak?

"I am most certainly not feeding you out of my own grain bowl, you cadging little monster. The very idea. Ataru are predators, in case you've forgotten. Meat, that's what you're supposed to be eating. The rarer the better."

Squirk!

"Oro..."

Kaoru held a straight face for just a moment longer, then joined Ayame and Suzume in helpless laughter. Still squeaking in indignation, the splint-winged young ataru scrabbled at empty air above the slivered fish, held at bay by Kenshin's hastily cupped fingers, a curve of bone and muscle echoing the grip of the Force feet away.

Brushing off his now-deserted shoulder, Obi-Wan sighed. "Really. You'd think one of the terrors of Coruscant would have more pride." He blinked then, looking across the bowls toward a pale face. "Milady Megumi? Are you well?"

"I... that..." The young doctor's glance flicked toward the floating creature, now twisting about to explore the invisible grip of energy, then away.

"Ah, you get used to it," Sanosuke said grandly, clapping her on the shoulder. "Samurai have this funny idea about the word impossible." He winked at Kaoru. "Lucky for you guys that Katsu thinks it's Kaoru cooking tonight. If he were here - well, last trip out, we picked up some weird Imperial propaganda about the end of the Clone Wars, and Katsu swears if he can put that together with some old holo-casts and maybe a few more Rebel pamphlet bits, he can come up with some kind of historical basis for gaijin samurai in the Republic." He rolled dark eyes at how obviously crazy that idea was. "Man, we don't need articles like that in the Dispatch again."

"Again?" Yahiko muttered. "How'd you get away with it the first time?"

"Fast feet." Sano grinned. "Everybody in Tokyo knows about the Dispatch, but nobody can prove it's Katsu. I kind of think no one really wants to. Even Imps get starved for something different to read once in a while." He nodded toward the chirping ataru, now curiously trying its claws against air. "You've really never seen that before, fox-lady?"

"You must have," Dr. Gensai observed. "As I recall, the Takani family had no few ki-healers among them."

"We... did," Megumi admitted softly. "That's different."

"No different." Kenshin lowered the ataru with a smile, serving out some of the fish to delighted squeaks. "It is only a change in scale. In focus. You move within the body's rhythms, to support and uphold them in the face of injury. To catch and hold in this fashion, this one moves in the rhythms of air, and objects, to push or pull as needed."

The woman swallowed dryly. "I... can't."

"Size matters not," Kaoru proclaimed, echoing one of her mother's favorite sayings. "All you need is a little training."

"Though there are those who have odd limits to their strengths," Obi-Wan nodded. "I've heard of those sensitive to... ki... who can't move more than a simple latch-"

"No. I can't."

Kaoru traded a glance with Obi-Wan. Let it go. For now.

The Jedi inclined his head, then turned his gaze to green scales. "You really shouldn't teach that creature to trust humans, Kenshin."

"Ah, but she does not, Kenobi-san." Violet glimmered with humor. "She trusts you, and Kaoru-dono, and the children. And she trusts that you will be a properly stern flock-leader, and deal firmly with any errant humans who would injure a hatchling."

Squeak! Preening herself with her whole wing, the ataru burped; curled over crumbs of fish, sniffing the air as if trying to decide if she wanted to attack another bowl. Twitched a little, and settled with a sigh.

"Flock-leader?" Sanosuke snickered.

"And what, may I ask, is so amusing?" Obi-Wan asked archly.

"No offense, but I can't see you leading your way out of a flimsy-bag," the smuggler shrugged. "I mean, yeah, sure, samurai; but you're no Imperial officer. Much less- oi!" He snapped his fingers. "Oh, you're going to love this one, Kaoru. You know how Katsu keeps poking into discarded Archives, trying to figure out how the Emperor rewrote history for the Imperial schools? Believe it or not, I think this time he found something. Not that he's going to use it. Pity. It's so crazy, people would read it just for laughs."

"Crazy?" Kaoru said warily.

"Yeah; has to be one of the first propaganda attempts. Something about Jedi Generals leading the clone armies. Can you believe they even thought about trying to tell people that?"

"Um..." She wouldn't glance at Obi-Wan. She wouldn't. But there was an odd stillness to the ki around him. Not calm, but - lack of reaction. A deliberate lack?

"It does seem unlikely," Kenshin observed, face calm. "Why would those our world knows as child-stealers lead the Republic's army against its foes?" He sipped the last juices out of his bowl. "And why would any ki-user collude with those who created and enslaved lives to die in their defense, rather than risk their own blood and soul for what they believed?" Violet met sea-green, level and cool. "Ninja say they are born only to die, but still, the lives they risk so are their lives, and the souls they put at risk with dark ki, to complete their missions, are their souls."

Oh, this is getting way too tense. Deliberately, Kaoru waved a hand at the stuffed hatchling. "You can talk to her?" I can't do that!

"One can reach - impressions. Feelings. Images, sometimes." Kenshin shrugged shyly, glancing away. "Ki spreads its gifts differently to every user. This one can commune with life well, but cannot easily convince."

But Yahiko said you- Kaoru bit down on her lip, leaving the thought unspoken. You don't want Obi-Wan to know. Why?

You think Obi-Wan was in the Clone Wars.

You know something about the Clone Wars. Something I thought only my family knew: that the Jedi did lead the clones, before something terrible happened and Palpatine declared them all traitors.

How do you know that?

Fortunately for her nerves, both Kenshin and Obi-Wan seemed to silently agree to drop the matter. The rest of dinner passed in casual conversation about the girls' efforts at hopscotch, Gensai's latest cases, Yahiko's efforts on the dojo floor, Sano's incessant quest for spare parts, and a few delicate overtures to Megumi that were met with foxy refusals to talk about anything more serious than the weather.

If I could just throttle the truth out of her, I swear- no. Calm. Deep breaths, Kaoru. You've got a temper worse than Kaasan's and Tousan's put together; you know that. That doesn't make you Dark. It just means you have to work hard on the Code. Every day. Patience. Calm will come.

I just wish it would come a little easier.

She still had to grin, though, as she locked the dojo gate behind the Gensai family and skipped back to the house. At the first hint of the word dishes, Sanosuke had jumped at the chance to discuss medical storage and equipment for the Sekihoutai with Megumi, thus taking two problems off her hands for the evening. Kenshin had taken those same dishes out of the equation with a few quiet words about the privacy of family matters.

Meaning he's not going to listen in. Shutting herself inside her room with Yahiko and Obi-Wan, Kaoru sat down to face them, and let out a slow breath. So all I have to deal with is one ex-Yakuza pickpocket apprentice.

For a moment, she desperately wished she could put this off. But Sano had brought it up... and Yahiko deserved to know.

Calm. Serenity. You can do this.

"Why am I feeling outnumbered?" Yahiko grumbled.

"Well, you are and you aren't," Kaoru answered frankly. "From one point of view, we have Obi-Wan outnumbered, because we're Edokko, and he's new here. From another, he and I have you outnumbered, because our teachings come from the same roots, and you're just starting out with ki. Does that tell you anything?"

"Tells me Kenshin's not the only guy who can do cryptic around here. And Sano didn't even seem to-" Yahiko hesitated. "When you guys were talking about the Clone Wars, and the Jedi... everything seemed to ripple somehow. And Sano didn't notice."

"Actually, I believe he was deliberately ignoring whatever he may have sensed," Obi-Wan mused. "Privacy customs?"

"Common sense," Kaoru said wryly. "He really does have some, buried under the bluster. Sanosuke hasn't been around my family this long without figuring out that there's some things he's better off not knowing." She turned a serious look on Yahiko. "But you're my apprentice, and you have a right to know how deep the water is-"

Yahiko held up his hands. "Yakuza?"

Kaoru gaped. "No!"

"Ninja?"

"No way!"

"Imperial aliens in disguise, plotting to take over the Rebellion with evil mind-control powers and transform them into cyborg slaves?"

"You've been reading Sano's adventure holo-novels," Kaoru accused.

"So?" The boy's look was defiant, not quite hiding a gleam of hopeful gruesome interest.

"No," Kaoru said firmly. "I'm just the assistant master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. Which... isn't as simple as it sounds."

Yahiko frowned, puzzled; then blinked. "Wait a minute... if you and Obi-Wan both know about ki... but he's from off-world..." His jaw dropped. "You mean Katsu's right? There really are off-world samurai?"

"Were, yes," Obi-Wan sighed. "For over a thousand generations, we were the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy. Before the dark times. Before the Empire."

"But at the end of the Clone Wars, something went wrong," Kaoru said grimly. "They were betrayed. Murdered, by people they never expected to turn on them. My mother escaped; luck, chance, the will of the Force, who knows. But she came here, and met my father, and together they decided Kamiya Kasshin would try to find a middle ground. To preserve the best parts of my mother's tradition, but in a way that would fit this planet, so no one would know." Her fingers clenched on her hakama. "Because if the Imperials know... they'll destroy this place, and everyone in it." Her voice dropped. "And that might be better than what would happen if the rest of Tokyo found out first."

"Better than being executed?" Yahiko said skeptically. "Come on! We're Edokko; we don't riot over little things like murder warrants. You make it sound as if you're..." His voice died, and he paled.

No, he's definitely not dumb, Kaoru thought wryly. "I'm not. Exactly. Though I try. But my mother was Jedi."

"Oh, frack," Yahiko muttered in spaceport Basic. "And Kenshin just... oh, kuso, he's going to-"

Too much time with Sano, Kaoru thought. "Kenshin knows."

"He what?" Yahiko yelped. "No way! He's h- rurouni, there's no way he'd-"

"Apparently, Kenshin knows quite a bit about Jedi," Obi-Wan observed. "Both our strengths, and our failings. Which I must admit I find... curious."

Makes two of us, Kaoru realized. Samurai don't know Jedi. Even 'Tousan might have sliced first and asked questions later, if he hadn't gotten to know 'Kaasan first-

"What do you mean, our?" Yahiko ran over her thoughts. "You mean... you're..."

"As I said, Hana Firefinder and I were adopted by guardians from the same clan." Obi-Wan looked down. "And though I now know enough to see that by your planet's ways I likely was stolen, the Jedi never intended to take any child against the family's will."

"But - you're gaijin!" Yahiko blurted.

Kaoru sighed, ready to point out that yes, gaijin samurai kind of implied gaijin adoptees-

"True. Though I suppose being born here might have muddied the waters considerably."

Kaoru stared at him.

Sea-green danced in rueful amusement as Obi-Wan took a datapad out of his sleeve. "Let's see if I've found the right references, shall we?"

"-Honored lords of the court, I must protest!"

The screen held only flat images, not a hologram, but the petitioner was clear. Young, about Kaoru's own age, striking red hair tied back like a farmer's over a simple citizen's brown and blue kimono. Even faded as flesh and skin appeared, she could see the pallor and dark-ringed eyes of a near-fatal brush with Miasma. He shouldn't even be standing! Why in the worlds is he in court?

"Owen," Kenobi breathed. "I haven't seen him since... space."

"I am orphaned, it is true - but I am in negotiation for an apprenticeship with Tamaru-san, lead mulberry-grower of the Kyoto Weaver's Guild, and I have every reason to believe that contract will be accepted. The bonds of family should not be severed unless there is no other hope. Please..." The recorded voice cracked. "Please, bring my brother back to me."

"Your statement is noted, Kenobi Owen, orphan of Kenobi Mori and Kenobi Sain." The magistrate sat on the court's raised platform, hair oiled to samurai perfection, scowling dark as a thunderstorm. "As is this court's leniency in allowing one who has no place to speak at all."

"But lord-"

"As your gaijin governments have made so forcefully clear," venom dripped from the magistrate's tone, "those born of other worlds will be ruled by the laws of those worlds. You are blood of Corellia, and so bound by that world's commands. Which Ulloriaq-san has followed, has she not?"

The image panned to a small, dark-haired woman in gi, hakama, and Jedi-brown haori, who could have walked down any street in Tokyo unnoticed. Save by those who took a second look at the lightsaber at her belt, and the chill hardness in her eyes. "Magistrate, I have."

Ulloriaq? Kaoru's jaw dropped as the court droned through the formal recognition necessary for a court witness. But - if this was recorded while she was alive-

Obi-Wan caught her stunned look, and gave her a rueful smile. "Yes, I am a few years this side of sixty," he admitted. "It's given me no end of trouble. Who knows; perhaps Sunrider had a few descendants on Corellia?"

"But - if you were thirty when the Empire took over…." Kaoru swallowed, oddly reluctant to voice the rest of her thought. You wouldn't have been a padawan.

"They wiped out the Agricultural Corps as well," Obi-Wan said grimly.

Kaoru tried not to let her disbelief show on her face. No way. You? In the Agricultural Corps? The way you're trained?

But it didn't feel quite like a lie.

Twenty years, he's been hiding from the Empire. Like Kenshin has. I haven't pushed Kenshin… then again, I know what Kenshin's hiding.

Patient. I'm going to be patient.

And if that doesn't work, I am going to find a rock, and drop it on his toe. A big rock.

The Jedi raised a brow slightly, evidently reading something off her face or ki, then shrugged. "Hang on, I believe they're actually saying something now…."

"The laws of your world require testing of midi-chlorians?"

"They do. At birth. Which the Kenobis avoided, though we must allow for the... unsettled... nature of their lives, and the usual forgetfulness of scientists absorbed in their pursuits. Yet eventually they recalled their obligations and had their sons, both of them, tested in accordance with our laws. And were informed of the results." She frowned. "Their objection in the case of Owen Kenobi, fifteen years ago, is noted. There is none such in the case of Obi-Wan."

"There was no time!" Owen burst out. "Honored lords, we were ill with Miasma before the results returned - before they were finally released to us by this woman-"

"The child's parents were dead," Ulloriaq said levelly. "I acted in the service of my Order. He is alive. He is well. He is within the Temple of Coruscant, receiving instruction from Master Yoda. And there he will remain."

"Coruscant?" Owen snarled. "Kami, woman, what did we ever do to you? At least send him to the Corellian Jedi! Let him have family - let him have a life-"

"Your parents flouted the law of the Republic. And you would break it." Cool eyes touched the bailiff.

Even prepared for it, Kaoru winced at the sharp smack of staff against cheek.

On one knee, touching the reddening bruise a gaijin earned by speaking out of turn under a samurai's gaze, Owen looked up at the Jedi with oddly clear blue eyes. His voice was sane, calm... and all the more frightening for it. "I hate you."

"This case is dismissed," the magistrate declared. "Bailiff, remove-"

Blue was glazed, unseeing. "Death comes for you in the storm, Watchman. Blood you have wronged will find you. And not even Darkness will halt the howl of wolves..."

Obi-Wan's finger stabbed down, and the playback ended.

"I'm sorry," Kaoru whispered.

"She wasn't like that," Obi-Wan said softly. "At least, I don't remember her being like that. She was cold, yes; and not the most fit person to comfort a lost child. But she meant no harm." He paused, and sighed. "Or rather, she meant no harm to me. Yet I remember sensing something frightening about her when she thought of my parents, and Owen. Like the air before a thunderstorm. And just before she put me on the ship to leave, she told me I had done nothing wrong, and she would see justice was done." He shuddered. "I never would have dreamed..."

Think, think; say something! Kaoru cast a quick look at her apprentice.

Yahiko gulped, but jumped into the breach. "That was a vision?"

"It certainly sounds like it, doesn't it?" Obi-Wan blinked, pulled back from the past. "Owen was my brother. It wouldn't surprise me if he were strong in the Unifying Force, as I am. And while I've never been one to suffer visions, I don't think I've ever been so desperate as he must have been, that moment. To lose a brother..." He hesitated. "Well. Perhaps once. But at that time, a vision would have killed not only me, but three lives depending on mine."

"Maybe there's more on Ulloriaq in there," Kaoru said, rising to tap her apprentice toward the sliding screen. "You - off to bed. I want you to meditate half an hour on this, then get some sleep. And if you can't meditate, I want you to think about what you think you learned tonight, and how we can fix whatever went wrong."

"Yeah?" Yahiko gave her a stubborn, cocky look. "And what if I can't sleep?"

Kaoru smiled sweetly. "Then you get to help Kenshin do the laundry tomorrow, Yahiko-chan."

Cockiness turned to outraged horror. "Girls' work? You wouldn't!"

Reaching out with the Force, she snatched a bokken from the far wall. "Bed!"

Yahiko ducked, scowling; stopped on one foot, and dashed back to Obi-Wan to give the Jedi a quick, manly squeeze on the shoulder. "It'll be okay."

Grinning again, he dashed out, slamming the screen shut with a thump.

"You're going to have your hands full with that one," Obi-Wan observed. "But he has a good heart. I only hope he can overcome the fear within him as well." He glanced at her. "You sent him away deliberately."

Kaoru winced. "I wasn't sure. It's always been hard to get information on the rest of the galaxy here; for all I knew, Ulloriaq could have been a common name. And I was a little young to understand when my parents talked about the Bakumatsu. But seeing her..." She swallowed dryly. "If you found that with your search, you probably found more. And it's not going to be pretty."

The Jedi frowned, turning back to the datapad to tap a few quick commands. Scrolled down. And down. And blanched.

Bracing herself, Kaoru moved around to view the screen, noting the symbol that labeled a Shogunate record only provisionally accepted by Imperial historians as possible fact. A casualty count.

Glowing numbers, stark and bare; so many dead, so many dismembered, so many crushed and shredded by ceramic roof tiles flung around like leaves in a whirlwind. Ishin Shishi. Shinsengumi. Civilians.

Children.

"No..."

Swallowing a lump of sorrow, Kaoru drew her finger down the screen to the appended notations of valor.

Posthumous commendation for Captain Okita Souji, leader of the First Squad of the Shinsengumi, for his actions in protecting Kyoto civilians, to be upheld by the order of Imperial Governor Meiji. Though weakened by his long and hidden battle with White Death poisoning, when faced with the traitorous Jedi Rayen Ulloriaq he did not hesitate, but leaped to defend his people and his city, saving untold lives. Justice does not know a uniform...

"It doesn't say he killed her."

Kaoru blinked, brought back by that soft whisper. "He - didn't," she said hesitantly. "But he bought time for help to get there." Did he find- wow. "You must have been in some pretty hefty databases. My father only had a copy of this because he knew someone who was there." And I think this is the first time I've been glad the recording's so bad; you don't really get a good look at anybody. There weren't that many recordings of the Bakumatsu; Shinsengumi or Ishin Shishi, both sides had been fairly effective at slicing into security systems and blanking cameras before they took action. But no one had expected this night. Which meant stunned survivors had been able to splice something together out of the rubble, trying to figure out just what and who were to blame for the catastrophe.

Point of view jumped from moment to moment. Storm and wind crackled through the recording, almost drowning out the curses and screams as Shinsengumi and Ishin Shishi ran, tended their wounded, or tried to shield themselves and crying civilians from the deadly knives of flung roof-tiles. More than once, the last view was of one of those fired blue missiles before static fuzzed, and it jumped to another camera. But through it all, one thing was clear; high above on rain-swept roofs, amber and emerald blades clashed and snarled against each other, moving too fast for eyes to follow.

A flash of lightning illuminated Ulloriaq's withered face, eyes glowing red with unadulterated rage. "And this is how you would repay the Republic? By joining with the Separatists?"

The shadow that faced her saved his breath for the fight, twisting away from a blow meant to take his head.

"Traitors! Murderers! Users of Darkness!" A clench of her hand, and clay missiles shredded through the air like shrapnel. "None of you deserve our protection!"

But the shadow had already leapt, impossibly high; amber blade coming down like a lash of lightning-

To be parried and flung aside with a mocking laugh, as emerald licked at his right arm - just the tip, but enough to draw a cry of agony. The amber blade sailed across the rooftops, vanishing out of sight.

A babble of voices filled the stillness between lightning and thunder. "Did she just-"

"Kami, no-"

"If she can take Battousai-"

The shadow was on one knee, now; as if it could not bear to look up at the mocking laughter moving ever closer.

"And now, this benighted world will see that even demons die."

The emerald blade slashed down-

Halted, caught between two shadowed palms.

Green fire blazed over the kote shielding those hands, ki absorbing the force leather could not. Though not all; smoke rose, and blood fell, dripping black in the hot glow of energy.

But her opponent would not yield. Emerald was held, pulled, twisted-

Flung away, hilt catching the Fallen Jedi in the throat like a thunderbolt. She staggered back-

The blue blur of a vibro-blade whipped out, severing head from neck in one swift battou-jutsu.

Dark energies exploded outward; the recording jumped and jumped again, seeking cameras that hadn't been fried. Finally steadied, in a static-washed image that held no color; she could only identify the Shinsengumi raising blades and 'sabers by the lighter triangles along pale gray sleeves, flinching back from the more solid hue of a Choushuu uniform. "Stay back! How dare you-"

"It's all right." A breathless whisper from the small, dark-haired human Shinsengumi in his fellow captain's arms, the seared hole of a lightsaber drilled through his heart. "You came. I knew you would. My friends..."

A choked cry, too soft for the cameras to catch.

"You look so sad, Red... please smile. Just once, for me? You know I never wanted to... die in bed..."

Wind and rain. An excited, angry babble-

"Let him go!" A raw roar, from the tall, angry Fireryo Shinsengumi cradling Okita's body, eyes flashing like a predator's in the night. "We'll catch Battousai another night..."

Obi-Wan let that trail out to its ragged end, shaking his head. "I'm not certain how much more of this I can take."

"Me neither," Kaoru gulped, eyes wet. "Mother said - Rayen was Master Quidel's friend..."

"Once you yield to the Dark Side, it can carry you into horrors beyond imagining." The Jedi drew a deep breath, let it slowly out. "If there was no one who could reach her, who could return her to the Light… Stopping her, however it had to be done - that was a great mercy."

Kaoru sniffled even more, caught off-guard by the pure grief rippling through the Force. I never thought - he doesn't hate, he's just so sad... "H-here. You're going to need these..."

Obi-Wan accepted the box of tissues with surprised dignity, a rueful smile drifting across his face as she grabbed a wad herself to stifle her sobs.

"I know, I know," Kaoru gulped after a few minutes. "I don't do so well with peace and serenity."

"I believe it's a bit easier to achieve when you've been raised around Jedi who've been nothing but serene the greater part of their lives," Obi-Wan observed, crumpling his own wad of soaked paper. "Remind me to tell you of some of the Corellian Jedi I knew. Nejaa Halcyon, for one… a calm man, certainly, especially when need called for it. But serene? I'm not certain Corellians were ever cut out for that." Wry humor glinted in his eyes. "Which I suppose speaks to part of why I had certain - difficulties, as a youngling and later. I might never have been quite as open and forthright about expressing that volatility as you, my young assistant master, but yes, I do have a temper." The glint turned to an all-out gleam. "I've been rather forcefully reminded of it, these past few weeks."

She stifled a giggle. "So. Meditation?"

"Oh, yes," Obi-Wan sighed. "I suspect we'll all be doing a great deal of that." He raised a serious brow at her. "Part of which, I think, will include numbering the reasons why you have not pressed Megumi for further details on Kanryuu? Much less asked myself, or Kenshin, what tactical information we gathered this day?"

Red burned across her cheeks. "If you're asking, you already know."

"Oh, I know who," the Jedi nodded. "What I don't quite understand is why." He gave her a curious glance. "Why do you think he'll leave?"

"Because he doesn't think he deserves to stay, the baka!" Kaoru clenched a fist on wet tissue. "If - if he wasn't worried about you, and about keeping everyone here safe from Kanryuu - he's a rurouni. They drift on the wind. That price Saigo put on him means he thinks he has to keep moving, or people will get hurt trying to take him. And I don't - I don't think he can keep it up much longer, he's so tired…." She felt a flicker of skepticism, and gave the Jedi a scowl. "You didn't see what he was like a week ago! Skin and bones, not much more… he needs rest. Food. Sleep, somewhere he's sure nobody's going to knife him in the ribs for the bounty. If I let him walk out now-" She shivered.

"We can't hold him against his will," Obi-Wan cautioned.

"I know that!" Calm. Just try. "I know that," Kaoru repeated, more softly. "But I'm the head of this dojo. I say what risks I'm willing to take. And if I can just get him to stick around long enough to get that through his thick skull-!"

"I suspect you'll need reinforcements," the Jedi mused. "A role I might play more effectively if I knew why he was worried about me."

Because he healed you, in a way that chills me even now. Because he linked with your ki to pull you through, and even if he broke that link, he knows you. Because even if his hands are deadly, he has the gentlest heart I think I've ever met.

And when I think about that, and who he was, I get so confused….

"He knows you're lost," Kaoru said instead. "Not in the Dark," she added hastily. "He told me, when you came here, that you felt like some of the people he knew in the Bakumatsu. Unit survivors. People who had… really bad things happen to everyone else around them, but miss them, and they didn't know why." She swallowed. "He's worried about you. And he knows that Jedi stick together, so he knows if he's worried about you, he has to be worried about me, and Yahiko. So he's stayed. Tried to help me help you get better."

"When you're fairly certain he's in worse shape than I am," Obi-Wan mused, nodding at the irony. "Are there no Mind-Healers… ah. He's that paranoid, then?"

"It's not paranoia when they are out to get you," Kaoru said flatly. "Look, we can go over what you found on Kanryuu tomorrow, when we're all thinking straight."

"And when both of us may have had a bit more time to contemplate ways to persuade our windblown wanderer to consider putting down roots?"

Kaoru's blush deepened. "Right." Though I don't think we'll get that lucky- wait a minute. "You want him to stay? He's - not Jedi…."

"No," Obi-Wan mused. "But he seems to be a good man." The Jedi scratched his chin, as if missing an absent beard. "And he mentioned a technique I'm rather curious about. The same as we saw on that recording, I think."

"The blade-catch?" Kaoru let out a low whistle. "Even with a student saber, I don't want to try that until Densetsu-san has your kote ready. One nick to the tendons… bacta's not that easy to come by if you're not in Imperial service."

"Understandable. I'd prefer to spend time tomorrow going over the 'saber components we acquired today, in any case," Obi-Wan nodded. "They seem quite satisfactory, but there are some individual quirks I'd like to familiarize myself with before I try building it." He hesitated. "Am I correct in believing that, due to this world's reliance on social ties, it would have been inadvisable for you to direct us straight to Densetsu?"

"You would have been going as a supplicant student from this dojo, instead of a samurai and master in your own right," Kaoru said frankly. "He would have had to turn you down, or his family would have lost face. Even if you came back later with greeting-gifts and went through the whole round of introductions, he couldn't have given you his best work. Not until you proved you deserved it." She glanced away. "I know it sounds crazy…."

"Local custom is never crazy," Obi-Wan declared, rising to bow and head for the doorway. "Sometimes inadvisable, often inexplicable, and occasionally perilous to mind, body, or soul." Opening the screen, he turned back for one last wink. "But one never calls it crazy."

---------------

Translations and Info:

Orphan - padawan whose Master has died.

Sugi - cedar.

Tensubeskaa - "heaven's-beskar"; a lightsaber-resistant alloy.

Tràkata - lightsaber combat based off iai-jutsu (battou-jutsu); the user dodges with the Force, lightsaber in reach but either not drawn or not ignited until absolutely necessary. Considered a somewhat dark form of combat, since it takes the enemy by surprise, and can be used outside a lightsaber duel to dispose of a target in close quarters. Favored by Yoda.