Chapter 2- Forgotten Blood

Standing towards the setting sun, Aoshi stood in field, closing his eyes as the cool evening winds touched his face. His hands were at his sides, fingers flexed. He took deep breaths, focusing his mind and body, his senses becoming heightened in his concentration.

The fragrance of the yellow grass…the soft rustling of the wind through the tall dry reeds…the twilight breeze caressing his neck…

All was still.

Then a breath.

The kodachi sang, moving like swift birds in flight, as they twirled in his hands. He twisted them in his fingers, slashing through the air in swift movements, bringing them above his head, then back down at his sides.

He paused, smiling a little in spite of himself, gripping the familiar weight of the blades. It was an addiction, really. The feeling of power held in these sharpened points of metal.

He had nearly forgotten. Even in the one month he had spent focusing on meditation, he had fought the secret longing for them, remembering the strength and exhilaration of the Kaiten Kenbu.

And again he brandished the kodachi. He had abandoned his search for any inner peace now. The only inner peace was to be found with the blades in his hands.

He lifted kodachi up and stepped forward, bringing them into a quick slash upward. Then, pivoting on his right foot, he twirled around, bringing the force of the knives downward.

"I see you have not abandoned your blades."

He froze, the sharpened edge of a kodachi resting lightly on the neck of the young man who stood in front of him. The young man didn't move, only smiled.

In the dim light of the evening, Aoshi stared him, not moving, the blade still pressed against the young man's neck. His clothes were torn and dirty, as if they had been traveled in for many days. Black hair thickly covered his forehead and his face was smudged with dirt. But he smiled a familiar, careless smile.

"Soujirou." Aoshi's voice was low and dangerous.

"It is strange that the first time I met you, you killed four men with these same kodachi," said Soujirou, the smile never leaving his face. "Are you now going to kill me? I had heard that you also had given up your swords."

Aoshi said nothing as he lifted the kodachi blade and placed both them in the sheath at his side.

"What have you come for?" He cast his eyes about him, alert for any movements in the field, his hands ready to again draw the blades.

Soujirou noticed his suspicion.

"I have come alone," he said. "and without a sword, as you can see." He lifted his arms in a shrug. "Though I would understand your distrust and you are right to be on your guard. You know that you have been followed since you left Kyoto."

Again, Aoshi was silent, letting his fingers slowly curl around the kodachi's sheath.

"Speak your purpose." He lowered his chin, his dark blue eyes smoldering from under the dark hair that hung over his forehead. "Though I may have forgotten my blades for some time, I have not forgotten how to kill."

Though the smile never ceased to leave his face, Soujirou's eyes became serious as he nodded and reached into his gi, pulling out a thin piece of white paper.

"Read this and follow its directions," he said, offering it to Aoshi. "And know that to hesitate is only bringing destruction closer."

Aoshi didn't take the folded paper, only gazed at Soujirou.

"And is it you who brings this threat?"

"No." Soujirou shook his head. "I work for another who sends it."

"You are again a servant of a killer?"

The young man's eyes burned when he heard the mocking lilt in Aoshi's voice.

"Do not forget that you too abandoned Shishio-sama in his last hour," he said, the smile gone from his face. "I have never forgiven myself for that, nor have I forgiven you."

The two were silent as the wind blew across the field.

"Tell Himura-san that I send my regards," Soujirou said finally, the smile returning to his lips. "And tell him that I too have given up my wandering."

"Where is Battosai?"

Kaoru jumped, startled out of her bokken practice. She whirled around to face Aoshi, as he gazed at her with a grave, unreadable expression.

"He's gone into town this morning," she said, rubbing sweat from her forehead. "To get some tofu."

"When will he be back?"

"He should be getting home soon-" She stopped as he abruptly turned from her, not acknowledging what she had said.

"Rude man," she muttered under her breath as she lifted her wooden sword to go again. "I don't understand how Misao sees anything in him." She smiled. "Unlike Kenshin…"

She stood still for a moment, her eyes becoming dreamy, holding her bokken loosely at her side, as she thought about a certain red-haired rurouni…

"Kaoru-dono?"

"Eep!"

She felt her heart flop inside of her as she again was startled out of her reverie, spinning around to face Kenshin, who stood with a confused look on his face, the tofu bucket in his hand.

"Is everybody out to give me a heart attack?" she fumed, shaking her bokken at him.

"Oro?" he said innocently.

Realizing that she had only a moment ago been daydreaming about this certain red-haired rurouni, she blushed and quickly took the tofu.

"Aoshi was looking for you a moment ago," she said, changing the subject.

Kenshin's face changed as his violet eyes became suddenly serious.

"What did he want?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Just scared me half to death, asked where you were and when you would be back, then stalked off without so much as a nod of thanks."

He was quiet for several moments, studying the ground, his red hair falling across his face. Then he turned his heel to leave.

"Hey!" Kaoru shouted, throwing the tofu bucket at him. "Quit ignoring me! You men are all jerks!"

She felt satisfied as the bucket hit him with a whack on the back of his head, drawing out loud cry of "Oro?" from his lips.

Misao grunted as she stirred the thick batter with a chopstick. It was the only thing she could find, though she had searched the entire kitchen for a spoon of some sort.

"Kenshin must not have done the dishes yet," she said to herself as she resolutely kept stirring, trying to blow a stray piece of hair from her face.

"What are you doing?"

She looked up at Aoshi, who stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

"They're called 'cookies'," she said, pausing to flex her aching arms. "It's a Western recipe Kaoru got from Tae-san at the Akubeko."

Aoshi, as usual, said nothing, but simply stared at her with his stony gaze.

"Some of the ingredients were hard to find," she self-consciously chattered as she continued stirring. "I had to go buy the sugar and butter myself from that little Western market across town."

His eyebrow flickered.

"I bought it with my own money, though," she said hastily. "Gramps gave it to me."

She quickly avoided his gaze as she remembered their conversation from the day before.

"I got the money," he said softly. "I will return it to the Aoiya as soon as we go back to Kyoto."

She said nothing, not looking at him as he turned to walk down the hallway.

The unknown calls you

To the house where leaves bring death.

Scars of grief linger.

-Misuteri

Kenshin read the lines again, his face furrowed in absorption.

"Another haiku…and this one stranger than the last."

Aoshi leaned against the dojo walls as the two stood outside, hidden away from the others.

"When did you receive this?" Kenshin asked, lowering the paper.

"Yesterday evening. It was delivered by Soujirou."

He looked up sharply, his eyes suddenly intense.

"Soujirou…in Tokyo?"

Aoshi nodded. "It seems that he has given up his wandering for the time being. He is now the servant of this…Misuteri."

Shaking his head, the rurouni sighed.

"This one had thought that Soujirou might have moved on to a better life," he said quietly. "That somehow, he might have realized-"

"That matters little now," Aoshi said, impatience edging his voice. "What I do next is vital."

At this change in his usual stoicism, Kenshin riveted his gaze squarely on him, cocking his head to the side.

"Tell me," he said. "Why is that you are have come to this one for counsel?"

Immediately, Aoshi's face became hard and masked.

"I have not come for counsel," he said, his jaw tight. "Nor have I yet to ask for any."

They were both silent as they stared at one another, the winds of promising rain blowing between them. Again, as the breeze stirred his long white coat, Kenshin caught sight of the kodachi, but said nothing.

It seemed that both Soujouro and Aoshi were being pulled back into their former ways.

Feeling a sort of regret, he again scanned the words on the white paper.

"The house where leaves bring death…" he murmured.

"The apothecary."

Kenshin looked up at him and nodded his head, his expression grave. "The unknown calls."

"People in the West are idiots," Misao muttered under her breath.

She had only been trying to cook these things for the past two hours. After she had placed pieces of the sticky dough on a stone plate, she had set it over a fire pot in the courtyard. Now, most of the dough had cooked into either very well done blobs or melted goop.

Misao adjusted the plate again so that the goop side of it could get cooked over the heat of the flames.

She wiped some sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She was feeling hot after sitting by the fire for so long. Squinting up at the sky, she saw dark clouds coming in. Rain would be here soon.

Suddenly, Misao saw something in the corner of her eye.

A shadow.

Standing, she whirled around quickly, drawing her kunai, ready to throw.

Nothing.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the courtyard.

No one. Everything was quiet.

She lowered her hands, but still looked around warily. It could have been nothing.

And yet…

She took a step back and turned, ready to bolt into the dojo.

Took a step back…

"Yeooooooooow!"

Misao howled as her leg pressed against the hot metal side of the fire pot. Her kunai flew in all directions as they were thrown from her flailing hands, embedding themselves into the dojo walls.

She hopped on one foot, clutching her leg in one hand, trying to balance with the other.

No use. She fell with an ungraceful thump! onto her back, her arm knocking against the stone plate of cookies, which knocked over the fire pot…

Misao stared at the sky for moment, dazed and disoriented. The gray clouds above seemed to spin and heave as she took a deep breath and slowly sat up.

Blinking heavily, she looked around at the damage she had done. The fire pot lay on its side, smoke rising from the spilt ashes and scattered embers. Only the well-done cookies had remained on the plate. The goop was slowly dripping onto the ground. Her kunai were driven into several walls and posts.

"Kaoru's gonna kill me," she moaned.

"I'm sure she will."

Misao looked up and saw Aoshi standing over her, gazing calmly at the mess.

"Auuugh!"

Kaoru stood on the platform of the dojo, staring in horror at the chaotic disarray, her hand on her forehead.

"What the heck did you do?!" she cried, her eyes wide.

"I…uh…"

"Misao-dono, are you alright?"

Kenshin came bounding up behind Aoshi, kneeling beside her.

"I'm f-fine," she said tremulously, rubbing the burn on the side of her leg. "I just…uh…"

"YOU JUST MADE A HUGE MESS, THAT'S WHAT YOU DID!" Kaoru shouted, waving her arms angrily.

Kenshin gently pulled her hand away from her leg, examining the red skin.

"This one is sure that Megumi-dono has something that will help," he said, straightening up. "I'll send Yahiko to go get her."

"Yeah right," said Yahiko as he walked past Kenshin and Aoshi. "Send Sanosuke. He's the one who has a crush on her."

"I heard that, you twerp!"

With a grin, Yahiko swooped into the bathroom, latching the door behind him as Sano came bounding from the interiors of the dojo. He ran up to the door and pounded it with his fists.

"You had better get your butt out here now!" shouted Sanosuke. "Or I swear I'll kick this door down and drag you out by your hair."

"Ha! Not a chance!" Yahiko mocked from the safety of the bathroom. "You know Kaoru will never let you eat over here again if you did."

"Not as if I'd care…her cooking still stinks."

"Hey! You take that back!" Kaoru shouted, coming down on Sano's head with her bokken.

Aoshi watched the brawl in disgust.

Kenshin shook his head amusedly. "Well, you can never say it gets quiet around here, that you can't." He looked down at the shaken Misao and, in one swift motion, scooped her up in his arms.

"Himura!" she exclaimed, her voice coming back to her. "Put me down! I can walk!"

Kenshin ignored her fists punching his chest. "Walking on an injured leg is unwise. This one will have to go get the balm from Megumi-dono, I suppose."

"I'll get it."

He stopped at Aoshi's voice behind him and turned around.

"Do you know the way?" he asked, his face suddenly solemn.

"I can find the place."

Kenshin nodded as he stood at the based of the steps leading to the dojo.

"Yes…this one supposes that you can."

Misao paused in her indignant struggling to look at the two men looking at each other. Their gazes were locked, as if they were communicating something to each other.

Kenshin's brow suddenly cleared as he turned and walked through the doorway.

"It has been an interesting day so far, that it has."

Aoshi walked through the streets of Tokyo, taking no notice of the incessant clamor of the conversations of passers-by. His strides were long, measured, and swift, moist winds buffeting his face. People on the streets gave him room to pass in his determined step, as he deftly dodged between them, never faltering in his footing.

His mouth was set in a grim line, his eyes narrowed as he made his way towards the apothecary, not needing to ask directions. The swing of the kodachi hidden under his long coat gave him bold confidence as he hurried to the place the mysterious haiku had told him to go.

He felt little apprehension as he neared the apothecary's store, thinking only of discovering this Misuteri who plagued him with poems of sorrow and pain, drawing the need and desire for his blades back into his heart. He smiled grimly to himself. Maybe this was the enlightenment he had been searching for.

The apothecary's hut was small and squat, with no one going in or out of it. The streets were quieter here, out of the main street of Tokyo. The bamboo walls were damp with mold and it smelled strongly of herbs as Aoshi stood near the doorway, peering into the dim interior, watching for signs of movement.

"You came."

He spun around sharply at the sound of the voice behind him. He stopped short when he saw who it was.

"Not expecting me?" Soujirou smiled graciously, mocking him.

Even in the muted daylight of the gray clouds, Aoshi could see the young man's thinness, with hollowed cheeks and the loose-fitting gi that hung about his small body.

"What are you doing here?" Aoshi spoke quietly, indignation slipping into his voice.

Soujirou shrugged his slight shoulders. "For the same reason as anyone else who has need of an apothecary."

Glancing around him briefly, Aoshi could see that no one else was near. He fixed his narrowed gaze onto Soujirou. But the smile never flickered.

"You were wondering where Misuteri was?" Soujirou asked, holding out a piece of paper towards him.

Aoshi took the folded paper slowly, not shifting his stare from the young man's dirty face.

"I only want to know where it will end," he said, still keeping his voice quiet, feeling suddenly unconfident, as Soujirou's soft smile seemed pasted to his face.

A sense of dread seemed to tighten around his chest.

"What have you done?" Aoshi whispered, clenching his fists.

Soujirou said nothing as he turned away from the apothecary's hut, walking slowly towards Tokyo's main streets.

"Soujirou."

He made no sign of hearing Aoshi. He kept walking down the worn dirt road, his arms swinging casually at his sides.

"Soujirou!"

Again, he didn't stop. A deep rumble of thunder rolled in the distance.

Gritting his teeth, he strode quickly to match Soujirou's pace, until they were walking beside each other.

"Answer me." His voice came in a quiet growl.

"She was an old, shriveled woman," Soujirou said lightly, his smile broadening. "She was going to die soon anyway."

Aoshi blinked, taking a step back. He turned his head toward the hut. A woman was going inside. A customer, it would seem, by the empty basket dangling from her arm.

He looked back at Soujirou, who glanced at him questioningly, but didn't stop walking.

A high-pitched scream made Aoshi freeze in his steps. Soujirou let out a low laugh.

Aoshi's heart pounded in his chest as he ran towards the hut. The screams continued, piercing the heaviness the impending rain had brought.

He staggered into the dim room, blinking heavily as his eyes fully adjusted. The strong, spicy smell of herbs stung his nose as he pushed away bundles of plants hanging from the ceiling. He walked towards the sound of loud sobbing from the back of the hut.

He stopped when he saw a body hunched up in the corner, his breath catching in his throat. The woman with the basket lay knelt on the floor, weeping uncontrollably.

The old woman's leathery face was frozen in horror, her rheumy eyes blank and lifeless, her worn robes soaked with dark blood. A single kodachi was embedded into her heart.

Impossible.

Aoshi's hands suddenly trembled as he lifted his coat, the piece of paper fluttering to the floor. He reached for his kodachi.

There was only one in the sheath.

"You…"

The woman on the floor stared up at him in complete terror, her mouth working noiselessly. Her breath came in gasps and she clutched her basket tightly to her chest, as if it was a shield that would protect her.

Aoshi looked at her stonily, his hand still on the blade's hilt, his thoughts becoming rational. He could kill her now. He could stop her from screaming again.

He glanced at the old woman's body and shook his head.

No. He had killed many before. The assassin in him cried out for death, but he eased his grip on the kodachi. Not this time.

Slowly, he moved aside. She scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide. With a jerk of his head, he motioned towards the door. The woman tore past him and out onto the street, her steps heavy and faltering.

"Murder!" Her shrill voice screamed, ringing through the streets. "Murder!"

Aoshi bent over the body quickly and drew out his kodachi, pausing to wipe off the blood with the inside of his coat. As he sheathed the blade, he looked down and saw the forgotten paper.

Voices were becoming louder outside.

He bent down and picked it up. It had landed in a trickle of blood and had stained it red. The ink ran in wisps across the discolored paper, but the words were still legible.

You are doomed by blood.

Now, blood of one who loves you

Lies in your stained hands.

-Misuteri