Author's Note: Thank you to reviewers! I'm trying to just let the story take its course, so I'm not going to say much - at least not until it's finished - but I do appreciate your comments and your theories. :)
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Kaoru wanted to ask what had happened - she wanted to ask what would happen to her - she wanted to ask his name - but riding in the dark, through the storm, she could only hold onto his armor as tightly as she could, struggling to stay balanced, hoping not to slide off.
Though it was much faster returning than walking with the cart, it seemed like the ride would never end. This - this cold and this terror and this ignorance, this blindness - this was her nightmare. She was living it. She had chosen this, when she had stood before Yahiko and Genzai and insisted that the samurai take her alone.
If she had known what she was choosing...
Kaoru was on the verge of collapse from cold and anxiety and exhaustion by the time they finally stopped. The sky was still black with night and with storm clouds, the air a cacophony of sleeting rain. Kaoru felt her body quake with shivering, her teeth chattering together when she didn't clench them shut. The samurai lifted her down from the horse and kept his grip on her arms, holding her upright.
He was looking at her, examining her face so closely - and she would have asked him - asked him anything - if she could speak.
Then he turned his attention toward the gate. It took her a moment to hear the shouting, see traces of smoke and flame, hear what sounded like weapons and screams.
He was pulling her forward, and there was another man dressed in armor, a black silhouette against the darkness.
"She was the only one of them I could find," the young samurai was saying.
"Take her to the captain's tent, and hurry. You're needed near the wall."
The red-haired samurai tried to walk forward with her, but Kaoru stumbled. He lifted her in his arms.
"...your name..." she asked, "What is your name?"
He must not have heard her, or was ignoring her, but Kaoru did not have the strength to ask again. A distance through the wet darkness, away from the clamor, and suddenly they were inside the tent - a brazier burning gently between a circle of men. The warmth, the light, the escape from the rain - she was going to faint.
Two of the men were approaching as the samurai set her down. Kaoru realized she felt helpless, among these strangers, these soldiers, hostile to her. Feeling helpless made her angry. Dizzy, shivering, weak, she could only clench her fists.
The samurai paused after he had lowered her to sit on the floor. His back to the other men, his head bent low next to her, he murmured, "My name is Kenshin."
Then he was gone.
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"Where?" Kenshin called to Yoshi as he recognized the other man.
Yoshi stretched his arm toward a slight rise behind the city wall. "Mibu samurai. There."
Kenshin pulled his sword from its sheath, sight and hearing focused on the fight ahead. He could sense them now - the men dueling and the wolves circling. He sprinted past Yoshi into the fray.
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"She's no use to us dead. Fetch a blanket for her, something warm for her to drink. Let her sleep."
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Dawn found few men standing.
The Mibu captain spat on the ground, futile as the gesture was into the mud - the marsh the ground threatened to become. No sleet now but a constant, merciless rain beat down from heaven. "Koshimizu traitor," he growled at his opponent.
Kenshin did not blink. "Kiyosato samurai," he corrected.
The wolf grinned.
Quicker than Kenshin's eye could follow, he attacked.
Kenshin leapt, on instinct.
He could tell by his heart pounding that he was still alive.
The Mibu captain still lived, turning to face him for a second strike. Kenshin's sword might have grazed him. The way he had stood - he must have been injured earlier in the night. He must have been injured - or Kenshin would be dead.
Kenshin kept watching the man's arms, his feet, waiting for the next attack.
There.
Kenshin let his speed and instinct carry him. Another strike. He had felt his sword strike armor.
Then whirling again against lacquer and steel and glinting eyes, sharp flash of teeth. The same mask as his own. Death giver.
"You have some talent, boy," the Mibu warrior continued, leaping forward again.
A whirlwind of armor and metal. Kenshin was feinting, jumping. The clash of blades.
Kenshin realized he had felt his sword pass through something soft. He saw the Mibu samurai limping. He felt something hot draining down the left side of his face.
"Sir! We're falling back!" A desperate voice from farther across the field.
The warrior pointed his katana straight at Kenshin, streaks of black hair coming loose from his topknot, plastered by the rain nearly over his eyes. "I shall remember you, pup! Mibu Saitoh finishes his battles."
Kenshin could not believe it was over. The battle was over. He still lived. He heard a voice shouting something - it was himself shouting - it may have been his name - in reply.
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Disarray.
The Mibu attack had come without warning. Their swords, together with the violence of the storm, had decimated the Kiyosato-Koshimizu camp.
The dead were collected into piles. Some townspeople had ventured from behind the walls and were weeping. Some villagers had been slain and robbed. Several of the fields were trampled unto ruin. Couriers, townspeople, and soldiers dragged their feet through pools of muddy water seeping red-tinted around the dead, around the dying.
It was still raining.
The captain, the officers, and the local shaman were standing around the girl.
"A traitor, or a spy. She came to our camp in disguise just before night fell."
"The storm came with her," the shaman offered. "She may be a sorceress."
Herbs were lit. The spirit priest shook his talismans and sang a short prayer. He drew closer to the girl with a smoking brand of twigs, when a sudden wind tore through the tent.
One of the officers tangled his hand into her hair and wrenched her head upward. "Stay still," he growled.
The shaman prayed again as Kaoru struggled in the soldier's grip. He thrust the burning herbs against her neck.
Kaoru shrieked as the pain seared into her. Then an enormous flash of brightness, an echoing boom - a pillar of lightening had struck the ground outside the tent.
The shaman shook his head. "We will need stronger rituals than this."
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