Chapter 1:
Amaiya was young, tall for her age, only fifteen, and had short black hair falling only to her shoulders. She cut it enough to show that she was a girl, since most of her other features hadn't quite come in yet, but it was short enough so that it couldn't be used against her. It fell to touch just the beginning of her white top, a man's training uniform with blue pants. The sheer size of the costume hid her limbs. Her arms and legs carried muscles, so acute that if one could see, they'd know she was a formidable opponent.
Tonight, she arrived in front of a dojo, the sign next to it reading "Kamiya Dojo." She looked to the ground, allowing her hair to fall in locks about her face.
"Next stop," she said to herself. Her voice rang like bells, soft, but demanding attention. She stood in front of the door for a few minutes, still trying to decide if she should knock.
'The other dojos all ended in disaster,' a shoulder angel whispered.
'But who's to say this one will?' the other angel cried. 'Now, Amaiya, you want to get stronger. You have to do this!' it urged her on, as it had every other time.
Amaiya lifted her fist and rapped on the large wooden door. A moment or so later, long enough for her to question staying, it slid open, revealing a man with long red hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. He seemed to be a bit older than her. While he only looked perhaps five or so years her senior, He must have been some fifteen more.
"Can I help you, miss?" he chimed. His voice was soft, and there was a feel to it that seemed to say he wanted to be truly soft.
"Yes, please. I'm looking for the master of this place."
"Oh, you want Miss Kaoru, that you do. Here, follow me this way." He turned and led her into one of the buildings inside the dojo.
Inside there were two people, a thin lady possibly a year, maybe two her senior, who was instructing a young boy – perhaps twelve? - in sword play. He was standing with his back to them, swinging a wooden sword forward and she was pressing on different parts of his body, shoulders, hips and hands to adjust his stance.
"Miss Kaoru, this young lady would like to speak with you." The lady, Kaoru, looked up and saw Kenshin and Amaiya. She patted the boy on the head. "Yahiko, take a break from your sword and practice breathing."
"Aaahh, but I don't wanna…" the boy wined. Kaoru ignored him and came over to the pair.
Amaiya bowed before she spoke. "Excuse me, my name is Kataiyo Amaiya. I'd like to learn sword play."
"Well, you're in the right place, but this dojo is about using the sword to protect people – not about beating others up. Do you know that?" Kaoru put her hands on her hips, undoubtedly proud of the trademark she thought exclusive to only her sword-style.
"I do now." Amaiya still didn't stand up straight. Kaoru chuckled a little.
"Very well. We'll begin training you tomorrow. Can you be here at sunrise?"
"I have no place to stay. I wanted to stay here as I trained. If you need it, I can get money." She straightened, so as to get a preliminary response before Kaoru really said anything.
"You'd be the first paying boarder. We'll discuss a price later, then. Kenshin, how long until dinner is ready?" She turned to the red-headed man.
"Just a little while longer, Miss Kaoru."
"Wonderful!" she turned back to Amaiya "We'll talk more over supper. For now, Kenshin can show you a room to put your stuff into."
"Thank you," Amaiya said and with another bow, she followed Kenshin out.
He led her to another building with several rooms inside, and pointed one out.
"I hope you will find this suitable, yes, I do," He slid open the door for her as he spoke. She went in and looked around slowly, taking in the plain features of another temporary home. It was very basic, a small bed in the center of the floor, white paper walls and a small dresser in the corner. Amaiya knew she wouldn't be staying long, so this was fine, especially since she preferred small rooms so as not to highlight exactly how few possessions she had.
"This is good, thank you," She gave a nod of her head and he left. Amaiya sank to the floor and put her head into her hands. She thought for a while about why she was there and about her purpose, both completely different things. She mulled over this man she had met and how he was essentially identical to descriptions she'd studied – about everything in her situation. This had to be an escape, though why in the world this would be different, she couldn't tell. Hopelessness, loneliness, escape, and false anticipation all circulated in her mind. It was enough to cry over, and indeed, she had, many times. But not this time. She'd stopped crying long ago.