Writing these past couple of chapters has almost killed me. Agh. They're also a little longer, although I think the next one or two will be shorter. Luckily we're close to the end, or my brain might just shut down for an undetermined period of time. It hates when things start to get difficult. :) Oh, brief historical note before you start reading that I meant to include last chapter:

If you aren't familiar with the Ansei purge (1858-59) that Ii Naosuke signed off on, it basically screwed over more than a hundred daimyou by taking their lands and status from them (and in a few cases, their life), which in turn left many unhappy samurai who served under them. Just so you know where Jisaemon's coming from. He really does have a good reason to be pissed.

Jisaemon whirled through a kata, his thoughts in turmoil. He had been wracking his brains to come up with a plan ever since Kunimori had informed him that Hiko had managed to get his student back. The assassination must still happen, even if Jisaemon couldn't strong-arm Hiko to do the deed. Jisaemon's spies in Edo castle had reminded him that Ii Naosuke was to have a meeting with the shogun, and in fact it had been moved back to the day after next, due to some conflict in the shogun's schedule. If Naosuke were to be assassinated then it would make a powerful statement, especially given that the meeting was supposed to concern ramifications of the recent purge that Naosuke had executed within the shougunate.

Jisaemon was unsure how to go about the task though. He had scant time to work with and Edo castle wasn't exactly the easiest place to assassinate a man. There would be guards posted at the gates, not to mention Naosuke's own private retinue. Naosuke himself would probably be conveyed in a litter−it wouldn't be seemly to approach the shogun in the manner of a mere peasant−and that presented a new set of challenges. With his face hidden by the litter it would be easy for Naosuke to have a decoy stand in for him. If Jisaemon ended up killing a decoy, that would just be embarrassing.

As if he didn't have enough problems already, Jisaemon knew he couldn't discount Hiko from trying to keep his plans from fruition. The man had been justifiably furious when he'd heard Kenshin had been handed over to the shougunate; Jisaemon imagined Seijuurou's reaction would be tenfold that once he saw whatever injuries had been inflicted on the boy from torture. Whatever level of anger he reached, he would be after Jisaemon's life. Seijuurou might not align his sword with any single cause but if he came after Jisaemon before Naosuke could be assassinated, he was inadvertently supporting the shougunate.

It will be more complicated than that though, Jisaemon thought to himself as a chilling idea occurred to him. Without the tairou's aid, Hiko could very well have found his student already a corpse. Whether he liked it or not, he had a large debt to repay. And despite his outward devil-may-care attitude towards people, Hiko Seijuurou wouldn't leave himself in someone's debt. It would make perfect sense for Seijuurou to take it upon himself to protect the man who had, quite literally, given his student's life back. Wouldn't that be ironic, if Jisaemon's tactics accomplished the exact opposite of what he had originally planned. If Seijuurou was protecting Naosuke, it would almost make attacking the tairou a suicide mission.

Jumping towards an invisible opponent, Jisaemon finished his kata with a sharp thrust forward and paused only to wipe the sweat from his forehead before beginning another. Moving with a sword always helped him think things out. As he pivoted a full 360, Jisaemon decided he was just being paranoid. Seijuurou might not be protecting Naosuke, and even if he was he couldn't possibly know that Jisaemon had knowledge of this meeting with the shogun.

Jisaemon needed to push all thoughts of Hiko from his mind. It was doing him no good dwelling on guesswork. He needed to think about what he already knew and focus on possible strategies. A large-scale ambush would have the best chance of insuring the assassination was successful but that lacked the finesse that Jisaemon wanted to have associated with the tairou's death. Still, if it meant success . . .

If only you were still here, Yoshinobu, Jisaemon thought with a wry twinge of regret. Yoshinobu had been good at coming up with solutions to difficult problems. It had been his idea to lure Seijuurou's pupil away, and his again to turn him into the shougunate.

Jisaemon's movements became tinged with viciousness then. Damn Seijuurou. He hadn't just refused Jisaemon's appeal and spit in his country's face he'd also killed the only man Jisaemon had ever considered a friend. The swordsmaster had a lot to answer for. Jisaemon had desperately needed a nameless face−a supremely skilled nameless face−to be associated with the assassination. That would have left him free to quietly build the Imperialist movement, unnoticed and unmarked by the shougunate as a dissenter. But seeing as Seijuurou had had already ruined Jisaemon's anonymity by giving his name to everyone at the Fujimi keep, there seemed little point in staying in the shadows now. Chances were, no matter how Jisaemon chose to go about this the shougunate would only see disenchanted samurai making a last stand for their stripped privileges.

Even though he'd tried all he could to avoid it, it looked as if Jisaemon would have to personally see to the assassination. He would need to find a group of men able to quickly take out any guards, while he himself focused on killing the tairou. It seemed daunting at first but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Why shouldn't he take credit for a death that would have a powerful effect on Japan as a nation? His name was probably being whispered down the corridors of Edo castle as he sat. Better to act now and do the job meant for Seijuurou than wait around to be caught for something he hadn't even done yet.

Jisaemon brought his sword above his head, keeping it level with the horizon, then spun around, whipping his sword down to chest level. He stayed like that for a moment, breathing heavily and letting the cool evening air dry the sweat from his face. A nightingale's plaintive song started up and Jisaemon sheathed his sword in one smooth movement.

He'd better get busy. He would summon the men who had accompanied him to Edo, and get in touch with his contacts spread around the city and explain his predicament. Together they could work on a plan to ensure everything went smoothly two days from now. The dawning of a new era shouldn't look out upon a sea of unpreparedness.

Naosuke returned just as the sun came to rest on the horizon. As he stepped onto his porch, feeling tired but gratified, he stopped for a moment to admire the beauty in front of him. His surroundings were drenched in a brilliant orange glow that cascaded off houses and trees, sending long shadows creeping across the land.

Sunsets were magnificent. Not only were they pleasing to the eye, Naosuke found them inspiring as well. It made him think about the brilliance a person could achieve, even if it was only for a limited amount of time. Which made him wonder in turn if his efforts to keep Japan united held an ounce of that brilliance, or if he was a mere candle flame flickering listlessly, about to be extinguished by a puff of air.

He didn't feel like dwelling on that idea at the moment, so he took one last appreciative glance at the sunset, then slipped out of his sandals and stepped inside. The house was quiet and the front room empty so he glanced automatically towards the first bedroom, where earlier he'd directed Hiko to lay Kenshin. The door was open but Naosuke could only see halfway into the room and wasn't sure if anyone was there. With a flash of resigned fear it occurred to him that perhaps Hiko-san had lied; now that he had his student, what was stopping him from leaving for wherever he'd come from?

Forgoing dignity, Naosuke rushed towards the room, heart thudding. Surely the swordsman was more honorable than that. He wouldn't have left . . . would he? Naosuke's tabi-d feet slid quietly to a stop just outside the room and he stared through the open doorway. His eyes closed briefly in gratitude. It wasn't what he expected to see but to his relief Hiko-san had not left. He was at the back of the room, sitting against the wall with his eyes closed and looking more peaceful than Naosuke imagined anyone ever saw him. In fact, now that Naosuke had time to notice and wasn't worrying about a sword carving into his belly, he could see that Hiko-san's face was actually quite young. He was probably barely into his twenties; certainly not thirty yet. Interesting, that a man at that age would choose to burden himself with a student.

Said student lay sleeping on the futon close by, his back wrapped in bandages. Naosuke smiled at the boy's obvious attempt to obtain some sort of comfort from his teacher. Kenshin was pressed as close to Hiko as he could get without actually laying in his lap, and his left arm was draped loosely across Hiko's outstretched legs.

Naosuke noticed that for all his affected nonchalance, Hiko's body was slightly inclined towards Kenshin and one hand rested carelessly on his student's head, a gesture that spoke volumes and belied his harsh attitude. Not for the first time, it struck Naosuke that the swordsmaster must care deeply for the slight redhead. He wasn't sure of the details but it was obvious that Hiko had exhausted himself to get to his destination as quickly as possible. Then he had actually sought out Naosuke to bargain for his student's release. That wasn't mere self-interest. It seemed the boy mattered to him to such a degree that he was afraid to admit it, to himself or his student. Not with kind words, at least, Naosuke thought as he continued to watch the sleeping duo.

Hiko shifted then and Naosuke took a step back. He'd just leave them be and wait for Hiko-san to wake up−

The floorboard behind Naosuke creaked loudly, and Hiko's eyes snapped open, the peaceful look vanishing so quickly Naosuke wondered if he'd imagined it.

"What're you smiling at?" Hiko's hand had moved from Kenshin's head to the hilt of his katana almost before his eyes opened, and once again he was shrouded with a cloak of haughty superiority and indifference. Suddenly his face didn't seem so young anymore.

Naosuke found himself admiring the lightning fast transition in Hiko's body language, then realized he was still smiling dumbly. "I was just enjoying the fact that I could save someone's life." Naosuke offered.

"Hm." Hiko's obsidian eyes met his and Naosuke almost had himself believing that Hiko was reading his thoughts. Then the swordsmaster looked away, reaching his arms up in a stretch before nudging Kenshin's hand from his legs and standing. "The doctor came."

Naosuke supposed that was meant as a thank you, so he said, "I'm glad I could help." They stood there awkwardly then, neither moving or speaking, and it was Hiko who broke the impasse.

"I don't suppose you've eaten already?"

"No, no," Naosuke spoke eagerly, glad to have a topic to converse about. "I have a serving girl who usually prepares the meal but she's been ill recently. I'm not much of a cook, I'm ashamed to say . . ."

Hiko nodded at the sleeping form behind them. "My student's a surprisingly good cook but I think if he had to do anything at this point the only thing he'd be successful at is ending his life."

"I wouldn't think of asking him . . ." Naosuke trailed off when he saw the tug at Hiko's lips. So he'd been joking. What an odd sense of humor. "I would say we could go out," Naosuke began hesitantly, "but it really doesn't seem a good idea under the circumstances. Kenshin-kun is in no shape to be up and about and it seems ill-advised to leave him here." Naosuke was also fairly certain that Hiko wasn't letting his deshi out of sight anytime soon.

"Luckily, I'm perfectly capable of cooking," Hiko said, "and somewhat skilled if I may say so."

Was he offering to cook for them? Naosuke regarded the tall swordsman, trying to tell if he was serious. Judging from the unashamed boast he'd tacked on, yes. "Help yourself to what's in the kitchen." Naosuke offered. "I have fresh fish and tofu brought in every day, they should be in a bucket by the back door."

Hiko nodded and disappeared. For the next half hour Naosuke listened to the clang of dishes, the soft knocking of bamboo cutlery against them, and the sizzle of food. Naosuke busied himself making preparations for tea−he was a passionate disciple of cha no yu−but he stopped to breathe in the delicious smells that soon begin wafting from the kitchen. There was the scent of sea bream, and the tang of seared daikon, and something else that Naosuke couldn't place although it wasn't unpleasant.

Hiko stepped out of the kitchen looking as self-possessed as ever, holding two steaming dishes of food in each hand. His eyes passed over the items Naosuke had been carefully arranging.

"I hope you'll have tea with me afterwards?" Naosuke queried, following his eyes.

Hiko sat the dishes on the low table that rested in the middle of the front room. "I find saké a better end to a meal but I'm not opposed to tea every now and again." He sat cross-legged at the table and gestured to the food as he picked up a pair of chopsticks.

Naosuke followed suit, eager to try the delicious-smelling dinner. "Ittadakimasu." He reached for the sea bream, seared to a dark gold, and brought a tiny piece to his lips. The taste was remarkable, better than anything even his serving girl had prepared for him.

"Is it not to your liking?" Naosuke saw Hiko was watching him and he hastily shook his head, swallowing.

"No it's−it's wonderful!" He dug in with gusto, marveling that a swordsman of all people could cook such marvelous food. It seemed Hiko had been expecting a reaction along that line because he nodded matter-of-factly.

For the next half hour the click of chopsticks and the sounds of eating filled the room. The sea bream's bones were all that remained after they had eaten their fill.

Truly, such a strange man, Naosuke reflected as he sat back from the table. A swordsman who shamelessly flaunted his power and skill with the sword, yet he could turn around and make a meal as well as any cook at a respectable inn. Naosuke wondered what other secrets the man kept bottled up inside, just waiting to impress some unsuspecting person.

"About tomorrow," Hiko broke into Naosuke's ruminations. "You mentioned a meeting with the shogun?"

"Ah, yes." Naosuke stood. "I was just informed that it's been pushed back to the day after. Let me prepare tea, and we can discuss it."

Hiko followed him to where the chawan rested and sat with legs crossed in front of him. Somehow it didn't surprise Naosuke that he didn't adopt the traditional seiza. Improper, and on the cusp of being rude, but it wasn't meant to be a formal tea ceremony anyway, so it didn't bother him as much as it normally would.

The small brazier that the water kettle sat on was already hot, and questioning Hiko's patience for anything too drawn out and ritualistic Naosuke went straight to the act of making tea. He scooped a generous portion of bitter green powder into one of the chawan, pouring hot water into it and whisking it briskly for a minute. He passed the small bowl to Hiko before preparing his own tea.

Hiko sipped politely at the bitter liquid−how anyone could drink green tea over saké, he'd never know−then sat the chawan down and addressed Naosuke. "Your meeting−what is it about?"

"Ah . . . well . . ." Naosuke would rather have not told Hiko what the meeting would consist of−the swordsman was a samurai in all but name−but he answered none-the-less. "It's supposed to center around the upcoming backlash from the purge within the shougunate. The shougun believes the samurai will band together and riot. We're to formulate some sort of plan to−discourage this." He held his breath but Hiko showed no untoward reaction to the information and Naosuke relaxed, bringing the chawan to his lips.

"Jisaemon will find a way to strike then."

Naosuke wasn't expecting the bluntness, almost choked on his tea. "How can you be so certain?" He asked after he'd recovered.

"That man at the keep that you mentioned, who questioned your decision to release Kenshin. He's certainly working for Jisaemon."

"It's a possibility I suppose, but-"

"It's certain." Hiko reiterated. "What lowly castle guard is going to dare speak out against his tairou? He could lose his position, his honor, not to mention his life. However, if he's not truly working for you he loses nothing by throwing doubt on your word."

Naosuke ran the logic through his mind, found it sound. "That still doesn't explain how Arimura-san would know about the meeting. Especially with such a last-minute change! The keep guards know nothing of it."

The expression on Hiko's face made Naosuke feel like a dense student. "If one spy could get in there, I guarantee there are others. They've probably infiltrated numerous sections of the castle. Your meeting is no secret to Jisaemon and he certainly doesn't want the shougunate issuing orders against samurai. There's no better way to make that point than to disrupt a meeting about that very subject. That's something the shougunate can't ignore even if they want to."

Naosuke sat silently, letting the words sink in. He didn't know or care what point Jisaemon was trying to make. It was a moot issue to him. What was more important was stopping him and Naosuke didn't have the first idea how. Putting the meeting off for any amount of time was out of the question. "That meeting must happen on the date already set."

"I'm not suggesting it doesn't."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"You go to the meeting."

Naosuke gaped at the man in front of him. "But you just said −Arimura-san−"

"You seem to be forgetting I gave you my word that I would protect you. And Hiko Seijuurou the 13th does not break his word."

"What will you do then?" Naosuke asked. He was finding it hard to envision the conspicuously tall man with his equally conspicuous mantle casually walking into the castle behind him.

"That, I'm still working on. In the end though, Jisaemon won't trouble anyone again."

"So I'm just to go about my business and trust you?" Naosuke murmured, almost to himself.

"Yes."

Kenshin came awake in a sheer panic, disoriented and certain that someone was coming after him. Visions of bamboo-wielding men chasing him across hallways stained dark with blood still danced in front of his eyes and he shoved himself to his knees, shuffling through the darkness as fast as he dared until he collided with a hard surface. He ignored the sudden pain that shot through his injured arm and raised a hand blindly to knock whatever was in front of him out of the way. He had to get out, they were right behind him.

His hand never got farther than his shoulder because someone grabbed it, pulling him backwards. Kenshin yelped and fought desperately against the steel grip, twisting around and kicking out wildly. One of his feet glanced off his target ineffectively.

"Kenshin,"

He was so worked up that it took him several seconds to recognize the low, rumbling voice, and by the time it clicked he was almost sobbing in his desperation to free himself.

"Kenshin!"

He stopped struggling, chest heaving as he tried to control his emotions and banish the pure terror that gripped him.

"You're not going to try and hit me, are you?" The grip on his arm fell away and Kenshin tried to pick out his shishou's face as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He could just make out a shadowy figure silhouetted by the filtered moonlight. Kenshin swallowed, controlling a childish urge to jump into his shishou's lap and hide his face in that great cloak. Shsihou would probably throw him against the wall for that anyway, for a number of reasons.

"I had a nightmare." Kenshin explained needlessly, glad that the tears on his face were hidden by the darkness.

"So I gathered." Hiko answered wryly.

Kenshin wished he could see the expression on his shishou's face. Maybe he was angry. Kenshin had kicked him, even if the only damage he'd given had been to Hiko's pride. Not to mention that it was his fault Hiko was in Edo in the first place . . . and the reason Hiko had been woken from his sleep . . . and . . .

He had to stop thinking like that. Hiko didn't seem angry but Kenshin knew as well as anyone that his shishou was an expert at keeping his feelings hidden when he wanted. Which was always.

Kenshin shivered as the nightmare flashed through his mind again and another wave of terror swept over him. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the vivid images from replaying themselves; darkness was proving more powerful than his teacher's strong ki. He had to get control of himself, before shishou began wondering why he was teaching such a baby the powerful art of Hiten Mitsurugi.

With a hitch that drove the air from his lungs, Kenshin realized that learning Hiten Mitsurugi was no longer something he could take for granted. He'd left, after all, actually had the nerve to say he'd quit. Shishou had even taken his sword. What teacher wanted to take back such a disrespectful student?

Taking a shuddering breath, Kenshin winced as his back throbbed. His frantic movements had stressed it too much, and it was really starting to hurt. And his painfully empty stomach was now churning madly. Vertigo grabbed at him and Kenshin shut his eyes as he felt nausea welling up.

No, no, no. I can't throw up in front of shishou! Briefly he wondered if the rotten-tasting fish he'd eaten back in the cell had anything to do with his upset stomach. Or maybe it was the fact that he had nothing in his stomach. Kenshin swallowed hard. Several times. The vertigo passed, and with it the nausea. Hiko hadn't said a word the entire time, just sat and regarded his student silently. Now he did speak, voice lowered in deference to anyone still trying to sleep.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Even speaking softly it was a sharp contrast to the quietness of the night and Kenshin jumped slightly. "I think−yesterday? Or maybe this morning." He paused, wondering whether to qualify his statement. "It wasn't very good." He decided to add.

Hiko stood and Kenshin stared at him. "Shishou, what-"

"You're weak. You need food."

The thought of waking his master up in the middle of the night and then having him go prepare food was almost enough to give Kenshin a nervous breakdown. He'd never be allowed to continue training at this rate!

"No!" He made a desperate grab for Hiko but the swordsman slid to the side easily and Kenshin ended up falling awkwardly onto his futon. "I would rather wait until morning." He protested weakly.

Hiko looked at him, head cocked slightly to the side. "Who said I was getting you anything?"

Kenshin gave an owlish blink. "But you just said . . ."

Hiko raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish. You're weak. You need food. Kenshin trailed off, annoyed. His shishou had done that on purpose, making him believe he was being nice for once. He must be angry.

"Now that my sleep's already been disturbed I thought I'd have a snack." Hiko said. "Maybe I'll let you have some if there's any leftovers. After all, I would like to limit the number of times my baka deshi disgraces his school by falling over at the slightest provocation."

Hiko's tone was light but Kenshin flinched. His actions certainly weren't making him appear worthy of continuing his training.

"Kenshin," The light tone was gone, and Kenshin scrambled to his feet−or his knees at least.

"Hai?" He asked in a small voice, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. Here it was. Hiko was going to disown him now, say that he had no use for a student like him, yell at him for being so stupid and letting himself be captured−

"Baka deshi, look at me when I'm talking to you." Kenshin raised his gaze hesitantly, inwardly cringing at Hiko's harsh tone. His shishou frowned down at him, arms crossed over his chest in a familiar pose. "What's gotten into you? I drag myself out here in record time to make sure you're not dead and the thanks I get is a cowering baka who acts as if I'm going to hurt him worse than the shougunate did! If you need me to give you a beating for being so miserably unintelligent I'll be happy to do it, just as soon as you're able to train again."

Kenshin had been listening dejectedly, hearing "cowering," "baka," "miserable." Yes, all true, his life as a swordsman was over. Then his eyes lit up, and he met Hiko's angry glare hopefully. "Train, shishou?"

"Yes, train, although I suppose you're going to be taking a beating from that anyway, so I'll throw in an extra one for free if you really feel like challenging death now."

Hiko's sarcasm was lost on Kenshin. He was too busy running that sweet, sweet word through his mind. Train. He wasn't disowned. Not yet at least. Maybe once shishou heard what else he had to say he'd change his mind.

"Thank you, shishou." Kenshin said fervently.

"Thank you−what? Are you saying you want me to beat you?" It was possibly the most flustered Kenshin had ever seen his master, and he gave a small smile.

"No. For training. I didn't think-" his smile faded. "I thought you'd be mad at me because of what I said. And did. I thought you wouldn't take me back."

"Don't think I'm not considering it." Hiko said gruffly. "And don't think this is going to excuse you from some sort of punishment, but what kind of master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu would I be if I didn't stop someone who tried to kill a child because of me?"

"Not a very good one." Kenshin said solemnly.

"Oi. You weren't supposed to answer that." Hiko groused. "Now about that food-"

"Shishou." Kenshin decided he might as well be out with it. It was weighing on his mind, and if shishou was going to permanently retract his training privileges as a result Kenshin would rather have his hopes shattered now instead of later.

"What now?"

The impatience in Hiko's tone was almost enough to make Kenshin demur but he steeled himself and began speaking before he could talk himself out of it. "I think−that I might have told Kobori-san your name." Kenshin's voice dropped almost to a whisper. "And he thinks you're an enemy of the shougunate now." He was waiting for a scathing remark, and therefore was taken aback by Hiko's laconic response.

"I know."

"H-how?" Kenshin squeaked, trying to determine how Hiko felt about his deshi revealing his name to the shougunate. His teacher's ki was as smooth and untelling as a lake though.

"Jisaemon told me." Hiko didn't mention the context Jisaemon had used to tell him. It would send him into a rage all over again if he thought about it too much.

"I only said it because I thought they would believe me." Kenshin babbled, not knowing what to say since Hiko was giving him nothing to go on. "I thought maybe someone would find you and tell you what happened. I didn't say you were an enemy." His voice cracked and he ducked his head again, feeling tears swim into his eyes.

"You did your best, Kenshin."

"But I thought he was going to send men after you, and then you'd be attacked and killed and not even know why!" Kenshin wailed. "And it'd be all my fault!"

He was so wrapped up in his guilt that he didn't hear his teacher smother a laugh. "Kenshin, do you really think any number of men the shougunate sent after me could lay a finger on me, let alone kill me?"

Kenshin tried to stifle a sniff and was mostly unsuccessful. "I g-guess not." He answered.

"A little more certainty regarding your master's skills would be nice. Still, you did what you could and it didn't work. In any other circumstance it probably would've been wise to mention my name. Next time you'll know better."

Kenshin opened his mouth but Hiko raised a hand towards him. "No more. I'll get you something to eat, and then you sleep. Understand?"

Kenshin nodded and settled onto his futon, wisely choosing not to point out Hiko's slip-up. So his shishou had intended to get him food all along. Maybe he wasn't quite as angry as Kenshin had thought.

Hiko cooks? Yes, I know. It actually seems like something he would be good at though. I figure a guy who appreciates his sake as much as Hiko does would appreciate good food too, so why wouldn't he know how to cook well? On another note, I really do know what Hiko's plan will be. I promise. Hiko just doesn't know yet. And I might have said it before but concrit is always welcome and appreciated! I feel like this chapter might be confusing at times (read: the beginning), so please don't hesitate to tell me if that's the case. And although I am trying to avoid Japanese in this fic, I did decide to throw in chawan. A literal translation would be tea bowl, but that just sounds retarded in English (who drinks tea from a bowl?), and saying "tea cup" makes me think about garden parties and crumpets, so I went with chawan.

Thanks to all my lovely reviewers!

Kaida Ukitake: Aw, I HATE IT when I can't read my fics 'cause of time constraints! Glad my protrayels are satisfying, I do obsess over them somewhat.

Althea M: Heh heh, er . . . Kenshin might not be completely out of hot water. Teensy chance. Just because I'm evil.

literaryrxn: Yes indeed, he's getting there. Slowly.

Szahara again: RAWR to Microsoft! I'm glad you're catching these though, thanks! I read this puppy through very carefully, so if there's another typo I'm just gonna . . . commit cyber seppuku or something. Yeah, to all those people who portray (or see) Hiko as only an uncaring bastard-well, he does act the part-they need to remember that he sacrificed himself to teach Kenshin the ougi. That's warm fuzzies, people. (Maybe no one sees Hiko like that and I'm ranting for nothing). And on a side-note, I think someone should write a one-shot in which Hiko meets his doppelganger. That has huge comedic potential.

t42n24t: Hiko is dead on his feet, yo. I mean really, who can make it from Kyoto to Edo on foot in 5 days? "Contestant number 1?" "Hiko Seijuurou!" *ding ding ding!* Yeah, even Hiko figures a token bow seems appropriate for saving someone's life. Especially since he didn't pay the guy. :p And as Sano mentions years later, Kenshin never seems to get fair fights, does he?