Kenshin sat outside Kaoru's tent, guarding her, all night. When soldiers came in the morning to bind her hands and gag her again for that day's travel, Kenshin glared at them. The captain was summoned. Kenshin spoke slowly, certain, angry. He was sure that the girl would not harm them, as long as she was guarded, as long as she was treated well.
Captain Katsura had never seen the young warrior so determined. In the years since he had joined their ranks, Kenshin had always been disinterested, detached. He followed the rituals almost too closely - soullessly. He was skilled enough to fight and live to fight again and again - skilled enough to be a great swordsman, someday, if he survived long enough - and he was obedient, but he lived like a soldier already dead.
But now here he stood, the normally emotionless young man suddenly stubborn and proud and nearly simmering with determination. Just like... Shinta, the child he had been, Akira's strange-looking page. Perhaps the storm spirit had recruited him, entranced him - or perhaps it was simply the girl herself - waifish and unrefined as she was, there was something willful and vibrant, something beautiful about her.
Katsura considered the situation. It was dangerous to risk his samurai in the company of a demon, in the company of a pretty girl - but it was also dangerous to risk the anger of the spirits, spirits who might have some grudge against them.
The captain had few options. As always, he had to make the best out of a series of bad choices. His daimyo was closer to death than life, his allies were unstable, his enemies were gaining in strength, and his samurai were dying - both in battles lost and battles won.
Kenshin, the daimyo's foundling, who had never really fit in with the men - the odds were, Kenshin would be lost to them, soon, either way.
If he ordered Kenshin to keep away from the prisoner, Kenshin would obey, but something in the boy would harden, would retreat, and the next battle, or the following one... The boy would be vulnerable. He would be killed, or he would break, or he might simply... fade... as Akira had faded.
Katsura was determined to lose no more than he had to.
He would perform his duty to the best of his abilities, and if he faltered, he would at least retain his honor.
He would bring the girl to the mansion, where the shamans and the daimyo would decide her fate.
In the meantime, Kenshin could stay close to her. It might devastate him to lose her, but better that he should feel pain and outrage than to continue to live as though he were always in battle - continue to exist feeling nothing at all.
.
The clouds broke as the army progressed into the valley. Rays of sunlight danced through the lingering showers of rain.
Kaoru's arms were bound, but her mouth was free, and for that small freedom she was grateful. She knew it was because of Kenshin, who had argued with his captain over her, Kenshin who had won this small battle for her.
He rode next to her, mostly keeping silent, as though he did not know what to do with his victory.
Kaoru did not know what to say. She worried for Genzai and Yahiko and Kohaku. She worried about what they must think, missing her. She wondered if she would see them again.
Her past and her future were blank. For the first time, it almost didn't bother her. She breathed in the cool air - autumn air, hastened by the storm - and watched the play of light and shadow in the clouds. She watched the peasants in the fields and wondered about their lives. Even the conversation of the soldiers around her - their groans and their curses and their coarse jokes and their laughter - it all seemed... precious. Even the pain.
It felt... right to her... to be alive. It felt right to be on this journey.
Kenshin, solemn as always in his armor and his weapons, riding next to her, protecting her, if only with his presence - even if she never saw him smile - she only wished he could feel what she was feeling.
If words could give him a taste of this feeling...
"Kenshin?"
He turned to her, his expression guarded.
"No matter what happens... It was beautiful."
"What?"
She smiled sadly, wistfully. "This life... The hills, the smells, the sounds, the people who have been kind to me, even the people who were not so kind... It's really... beautiful."
Kenshin frowned. He took a breath, waited. Finally he closed his eyes and shook his head. "It isn't beautiful," he said. "It's ugly. And eventually it will kill you."
Then he raised his head and looked at her with such intensity - "If something happens to you, I will remember you every day that I am alive. I will honor you every day I live."
Pain. Pain in his voice, for her. Pain in her heart, for him. Empathy echoing between them.
Kaoru shook her head, but she could only accept this gift.
She bowed to him. "Thank you."
.
They arrived at the daimyo's mansion the following day. Kaoru was taken to one of the inner rooms while Kenshin attended to his material and ceremonial duties along with the other samurai.
Sitting in the shrine with the others, when he should have been purifying his soul, Kenshin only felt like a storm should have risen then, around him. He felt that he had enough anger and despair within himself to generate hail and lightening.
What would they do to her? What could he do to stop them? He had no clout. He was close to no one.
This was his clan. He was only alive because of the Kiyosato daimyo. He had killed for the Kiyosato. He would die for the Kiyosato.
If they wanted her blood...
If the head shaman decided that their rituals required her blood...
Kenshin knew he would watch in dutiful silence.
He would rage in dutiful silence.
He would mourn.
.