Miryu dreamt of flames that night, flames, and a man, whose katana spout flames… She saw a ship, a ship armed with enough weapons to burn any shoreline in its way, and every single warrior she had known fighting against the strange warrior wrapped in bandages. And for some reason, Saito, Kenshin and even Shinomori Aoshi, the head of the Oniwabanshuu , were fighting side by side, while she stood in the shadows watching… She should be there with them? Why was she merely witnessing the duels going between them? The hate that the warrior harbored within him was as hot as the flames that emanated from him, and she was so afraid that she took a subconscious step back.
"Battouryu, are you sure that you do not want to dance with us?" he asked her, and his voice, it was ever so familiar. She looked at the man, and found that his face was covered in bandages as well, save for the iron circlet that he wore around his brow… Who was he, and how did he know her? This time, she looked around her, and found that only she remained standing. "I have defeated Battousai, and I am sure that you shall be an easy prey…"
Somehow, she felt that she could not use the Hiten-Mitsurugi Ryuu to face him, that she had to find some other alternative style, a style which he had not seen before. Falling into a stance that was almost natural to her, she attacked, delivering a stroke that deviated from battou-jutsu styled combat completely, a mixture of what she had known, and what she known to be against, a culmination of her knowledge in the sword-arts, a style that she had created with Algren not long after Katsumoto's uprising was quelled…
"So, you found a new style," the warrior said to her, his voice charismatic, but still poison-filled. "And too bad that you lost your legendary creativity…" With one swift duck, he managed to parry her attack, and deliver a kick towards her abdomen. "Starting a Gatotsu attack with a battou-jutsu stance… And they said that you were a genius…"
She smelt of gunpowder, and before anything could happen, everything went black. How could she, Tsubasa Miryu, be defeated by a method that was not clear to her? She felt no cold steel pierce her body, but only a deep, painful burn… What was happening to her? Was she going to die? No, she could not die yet, she had to live, she had a life with Algren, with the children they would have, and Hiko, and all that she loved… She could not die now!
Forcing herself to open her eyes, she immediately found herself in her own room, her katana by her side. She had been around Algren for far too long, she concluded, she was having nightmares of her own… And strangely, when she turned to the other side of the futon, she found him, sleeping next to her, in naught but a thin yukata.
"Don't tell me that you're waking me up now, Miryu," he groaned, when he sensed her movements. "It's far too early to do anything now… Humans need their sleep, you know…" She chuckled, and scooted closer to him, yearning for his warmth, and he gave her just that. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer to him, allowing her to rest her head on his broad chest. He had decided to sleep next to her that night after going into her room to check on her, perhaps giving her a surprise in the morning, but it seemed like the surprise had to come a little bit earlier.
No words could describe how safe Miryu felt that night, with his arms around her, his heartbeat, so strong and steady, clearly head. Whatever dreams she had could just wait, and she was content. Very, very, content. For all that she needed, all that she wanted, had come to her, in the form of a stalwart American, who held her tight as he slept, and sleep they did, until the morning came.