Snow fell lightly from the clouded sky, dusting Kenshin's hair and sticking for a moment against his skin before melting. He adjusted the load of bamboo on his shoulder and pushed on, treading carefully on the muddy pathway.

It was strange to be meeting the New Year without Sano and Megumi there, and with Yahiko… not gone, but finding his own way. The wedding plans had kept the house so busy and full of people that he hadn't realized how empty it was now, just himself and Miss Kaoru rattling around without the others to cushion their impact on one another.

He'd only had a few days alone with Miss Kaoru before Yahiko had arrived, then Sano in short order after that. And those few days alone with her had been… well. He had never intended to stay in the first place, had intended to give his name and go despite what she'd said – because some deep-buried part of him wanted her to have it, wanted someone to remember Kenshin Himura when time had forgotten the wanderer and left only the assassin. He was under no particular illusions about what his place in history would be.

At least, that was what he'd told himself at the time.

Yet he hadn't. It would be easy to say that his body disobeyed him, that the words left his mouth without his consent, but that would be a lie. He had done it. Because… because that was what he had done. Sometimes, his master had told him once, people just do things.

So he hadn't walked away, and had spent the days that followed in a kind of anticipatory daze, waiting for whatever it was that was going to go wrong to hurry up and go wrong already. Even though they had lived under the same roof they hadn't really lived alone together; there was always a complicated shadow between them.

That shadow was gone, now.

Miss Kaoru didn't meet him at the gate. She had spent most of the day cleaning for the New Year and assigned him the task of making the pine and bamboo decorations. He'd assumed that he was meant to do most of the decorating, as well, if only to give her the pleasure of changing it all once she'd finally had a look at it.

He had just unloaded the bamboo and gathered the necessary supplies when he passed by the main gate and saw Ms. Sekihara standing there, waving him over.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Tae," he said, putting the equipment down near the bamboo and brushing his hands together as he met her. "Are you looking for Miss Kaoru?"

"Oh, no, no, isn't she cleaning for the New Year today?"

"That she is. Can this unworthy one help you?"

"Well, I'm having a year-forgetting party tonight at the Akabeko, and I was hoping to invite you and dear Kaoru. I know it's short notice but I'm afraid dear little Yahiko forgot to deliver the invitation." Her practiced smile wavered slightly, and he winced for Yahiko.

"Ah, is that so? Well, this one doesn't know of any reason why we wouldn't be able to attend…"

She brightened and bowed slightly. "Oh, good. I'll expect to see you, then, ne? Now excuse me, please, I must be getting back."

"Of course, of course. This one is sure tonight will be wonderful, that I am," he said, bowing in return. Ms. Sekihara smiled and left, and he returned to the bamboo.

He told Miss Kaoru about the invitation over lunch (burnt rice and overcooked vegetables; she'd cooked it on her own and offered it with a look tangled somewhere between hope and humiliation, and he'd told her it was delicious and meant every word). She had fluttered – he'd never seen her flutter before – and not even noticed the part about Yahiko's forgetfulness.

And now they stood outside the Akabeko in the light snowfall. Miss Kaoru was holding his arm. She had been since they left the dojo. She wore the blue kimono that brought out her eyes and he had reluctantly donned that new outfit he'd avoided wearing since he declared his intent, because he'd remembered that this was their first public appearance as, well, as a pair, and therefore his patched pink kimono and white hakama might send the wrong impression.

Even though the new clothing was remarkably itchy. Three times through the wash and it had yet to soften…

He pulled at the collar. Miss Kaoru looked up at him.

"…Shall we go, then?"

She nodded.

The inside of the Akabeko was bright and warm and close, filled with the low chatter of Ms. Sekihara's guests. They had divided themselves roughly by gender, with the men's group having notably more empty sake bottles than the women. The women were playing the poem-matching game, while the men had abandoned theirs in favor of mutual puzzlement over a set of Western gambling cards. Yahiko was sitting with the men, flushed from more than just the heat of so many bodies close together.

"He's been drinking, the little twerp…" Miss Kaoru's grip on his forearm tightened. He put his hand over hers, instinctively, and the warmth of her skin tingled his cold fingertips.

"Now, now. It's a special occasion, that it is."

"Yes, but he has to walk home alone – !"

"Ms. Tae will surely let him sleep here if it comes to that, that she will."

Miss Kaoru sniffed and he stroked the back of her hand, just once, loving the snap in her eyes. Then they were noticed; Ms. Sekihara bustled over to greet them both and introduce them around. She was as proud of the two of them as if the wedding had been her idea in the first place, and when he realized the source of that pride – that she had seen the bond between them and tried to encourage it – he wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed that he'd done such a poor job of hiding it or grateful for her concern.

Eventually he settled on the last one. Miss Kaoru settled in among the women – glowing, laughing, the center of attention as any prospective bride should be – and he stood in the place where the women's group blended into the men's, not entirely certain what should happen next.

The Imperialists had thrown parties, now and again. To ease the stress, to let off steam; but even though he had attended, he'd never been able to lose himself as the others did. The gatherings had seemed strained and tainted things to him. He would leave as soon as courtesy would allow, and the sake they served him was bitter as gall.

"Kenshin! Oi!" Yahiko waved him over. "C'mon, siddo-own. Have s'mthin' t'drink!"

He hid a smile and sat down next to the boy, accepting the cup of sake his neighbor poured for him. He sipped once, to be polite, and set it down. Yahiko slugged back what remained in his cup, imitating Sano – if he'd been doing that all night it certainly explained the state he was in – and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"So y'r marryin' Ugly?" he asked abruptly. Kenshin nodded. Yahiko had been avoiding the dojo since the news, presumably to prevent being dragged into the whirl of feminine activity. But the look in the boy's eyes made him think there might be another reason.

"That I am."

Yahiko glared at him for a long second, then turned suddenly away. "Good."

"…oro?"

The boy's hands clenched a little and Kenshin saw the familiar lines of his soul: pride, and passion, and a terrible loneliness. So like himself, when he had been that age… although he was quite sure he'd never been that rude, regardless of what Master Hiko said. Yahiko's mouth trembled slightly, and he bit the shaking away.

"…can't leave if y'r married…" Yahiko muttered. "Even if y'do have to marry an ol' witch like her."

Kenshin blinked down at the child. Yahiko's head was bowed, and his shoulders tense. The younger boy swallowed, hard; Kenshin set his hand on the boy's shoulder, gently, like a father or a brother.

"This one does not intend to leave, Yahiko, that I do not," he said calmly. Yahiko looked up again.

"You better not."

Kenshin squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, and Yahiko leaned into it.

The evening wore on. Kenshin drank little and spoke less; Yahiko did not, and by the time things were winding down he had passed out with his head on Kenshin's knee. Kenshin let him stay there, drooling slightly, and listened to the conversation swirling around him.

"Oi, Himura?"

He looked up and blinked in the direction of the man who'd called his name. Mr. Nobuto, he thought; that or Mr. Hayashi.

"When's your wedding again?"

"April, that it is."

Mr. Nobuto – and he was sure that was who it was, now, Mr. Hayashi had more pronounced front teeth – sucked in a breath in surprise. "Didn't you just arrive in April…?"

"Oro?" He counted quickly on his hands, hiding them in his sleeves. "…ah, that's so. Yes, this one arrived in Tokyo in very early April."

"What a year can do, eh?" Mr. Nobuto said, elbowing the young man beside him. "Why, Shinji here was pining for years, and look where it got him. See, I told you, you have to move fast in these modern times. Women have minds of their own!"

Shinji buried his face in his hands, clearly mortified. "Uncle…"

"…ororo…?"

"Bad timing, bad timing, you kept saying, and then she went and got snapped up by a hero of the Revolution! Always too slow, Shinji, what do I keep telling you – "

"Uncle!" Shinji stood up suddenly, flushing bright red. "Don't you feel the need for some fresh air? I do."

He grabbed his uncle's arm and practically dragged him out of the Akabeko, the older man protesting all the way. Kenshin stayed where he was, stunned, and processed the news as best he could. It had not occurred to him that there might have been others – well, at least one other – that someone else might have seen what he saw and been entranced by those bright blue eyes.

The thought did not sit well with him. He glared at his sake, annoyed with himself. As if he had any right to jealousy; this would be his second marriage, after all. But knowing that didn't make the sick feeling in his stomach go away, or sweeten the sake when he took an experimental sip.

After a few moments, Shinji came back in – without his uncle – and knelt at Kenshin's side. Kenshin avoided looking at him, ashamed at his new and frankly unfounded dislike of the man.

"I'm sorry," Shinji blurted out. "Uncle was drunk. Kaoru and I – we never, she never – you didn't interfere, even Uncle doesn't think that. I support your marriage," he said, bowing slightly. "Truly I do. I'm glad that she's happy. She hasn't – I haven't seen her smile like this since her father…"

And because Miss Kaoru had been mentioned, his eyes sought her out without thinking. She was curled against a wall, sake cup hanging loosely from her fingers. She was catching her breath, laughing, and for a heartbeat the universe was only him and her.

He turned to Shinji and smiled, shoving away the sickness.

"Now, now," he said, patting him on the shoulder once, amiably. "It was only the spirits that live in all sake bottles, was it not?" He shook his head ruefully. "Your uncle will regret tonight when he finds the headache waiting for him tomorrow, that he will. And words that were ill-chosen and meant no harm should be forgotten, should they not?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Mr. Himura." Shinji seemed to exhale. "Sir."

"Only Kenshin," he said gently – always gently, because it was not the boy's fault. "This one is only Kenshin."

Four nights later they stood in the courtyard of the local shrine, stamping their feet to stay warm. Himself and Miss Kaoru, Yahiko and Tsubame; Yahiko had brought her along for New Year's Eve, a quiet plea for acceptance: this is the time for family, and can't she be family to?

As if he'd needed to ask.

"It's cold," Miss Kaoru grumbled. "Why does it have to be so cold?"

He put his arm around her shoulders and she snuggled into his side. "It is winter, that it is," he observed, curling a little closer around her.

"That's no excuse," she muttered, and tucked her hands inside her sleeves.

"Huh. Some assistant master you are," Yahiko sneered. His defiance was somewhat offset by his visible shivering. Tsubame glanced at him, clearly worried. Kaoru glared, and then apparently decided it wasn't worth the effort in this weather.

The crowd milled around them, talking in low susurrations. There was a small crowd around the amulet stall, trading old luck for new; many went directly from there to the fortune stall and the sacred pine tree. Another crowd – rather more lively – was clustered around the stand serving hot, sweet sake, and he happened to glimpse Shinji and his uncle in that crowd. The sick uneasiness squirmed awake in his gut, and he sighed briefly at his own childishness.

"Kenshin," Miss Kaoru tugged on his sleeve. "I want to go exchange my amulets…"

"Ah, yes, yes…"

They made their way over and he browsed idly through the offered charms while she paid the fee and handed over her old amulets. The shrine maiden winked and slid an extra charm into the new ones, over Miss Kaoru's protests, and she was blushing slightly as she returned to his side.

"Oh, Kenshin… sorry, but Mariko told me to give you this, and she's very persistent." She fished the extra charm out and handed it to him, ducking her head.

"It was kind of her to think of this one, that it was," he said. Miss Kaoru's behavior was a bit puzzling… and then he got a good look at the charm. It was a bright and vibrant red, with decorations picked out in gold embroidery: a prayer for many children. "Oro?"

"She also said that she expected to see us back this same time next year for the naming ceremony."

He coughed, slightly strangled, and tucked the charm away inside his sleeve. "That was considerate of her, that it was," he finally managed to say. "And we should remember her, that we should – when the time comes."

"Oh." Miss Kaoru took his arm again, and her blush deepened from mild embarrassment to pleasure. "I guess we should."

"Oi, Ugly!" Yahiko called from the hot-sake stand. "Hurry up before I give these away!" He was holding a small tray of drinks.

"So noisy…" She rolled her eyes, exasperated, and they joined the others.

A current began to run through the crowd as midnight drew near, excitement and a collective shedding-of-skin. Conversations took on a high, happy tone, a glittering joy at the end of the old and the dawning of the new. Another chance, for some; for others, the continuation of happiness.

Kenshin wasn't sure which category he fell into.

The shrine nearest the Kamiya dojo had a temple nearby, and the two had been combining their New Year celebrations for as long as anyone could remember. Around the time Kenshin was beginning to consider going back for a second serving of amazake, the monks began to file out of the temple and there was a sudden scramble for the bell.

"It's starting!" Miss Kaoru tugged him along and he let himself be pulled, laughing a little.

"Ah, there's no rush, that there is not…"

"But there's so many people!"

"And one hundred and eight strikes, that there is."

Nonetheless, they shuffled quickly into line as the monks struck up their chanting. The chatter of the crowd lowered to a dull murmur as the first few people stepped up to the bell and drew back the great log that served as a ringer. The master of ceremonies raised his hand, watching for some signal… and after a long moment, let it drop.

The bell tolled, once, low and sonorous, spreading out from the tower and hushing the crowd.

Away with abuse…

As the sound of the first toll faded into nothing, the second group took up position and rang the bell again.

Away with aggression…

Other bells were ringing in time with this one, all over Tokyo – all over Japan. Away with ambition, with anger, with avarice, with baseness and blasphemy…

On and on the bells rang out, driving away sin and singing the new year home.

When their group made it up to the bell tower, Kenshin wasn't really surprised to see that Shinji was in it. They ended up standing across from one another; the boy winced slightly when he recognized him and Kenshin smiled reflexively, not really meaning it.

The wood of the ringer was ancient and smooth as silk, worn by thousands of hands. He wondered how long the temple had stood already, and how much longer it would stand: long enough to see his children wed, his grandchildren named?

And then his smile became real, as he understood suddenly that he could hope for that, now.

Miss Kaoru's presence was a warm beacon at his back.

The monk's hand dropped, and he let go.

Away with discord…

As the bell tolled, he looked over at Shinji – looked, not glancing or smiling at the surface – and saw exactly what the boy had said would be there. What he had known he would find all along.

And what would it have mattered, really, if he had seen anything else? Out of all the men who may have been caught in her eyes, he was the only one she'd chosen to keep.

The sickness eased.

"Happiness in the New Year," he said, and bowed to his fellow bell-ringers.

Yahiko declared his intent to stay up for the first dawn of the new year, but cold and exhaustion and the warmth of little Tsubame dozing at his side got the better of him. Only Kenshin and Miss Kaoru saw the sun rise, huddled together under a blanket for warmth and so that Yahiko wouldn't see them holding hands.

"Happiness in the New Year, Kenshin," Miss Kaoru said as the sun cleared the treetops.

"And to you," he said, raising her hand to his lips and not quite kissing the back of her fingers – only a quick press of his mouth to her skin. "…Kaoru."