Chapter 1: amber meets blue

I am the only one of my kind. I live in my loneliness – with only the memories of the dead to haunt me.

Innocence is but a sham.

Love is nothing but an illusion.

I am alone.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She will be guarded well.”

“As your little black envelope informed me.”

“Don’t underestimate her guardians. This is a very important job.”

“You have nothing to worry about sir.” Said with a slight smirk.

“Battousai,” the deep voice warned, “If you screw this up-”

“As I said, you have nothing to worry about. Why all the extra info, sir? Usually you just drop the envelope and let me take care of it.”

“It’s a very important job.”

“It’s what I normally do.”

A cautious pause, as if the other voice was wondering whether the weight of his words had been fully grasped. Kenshin, clad only in a pair of snug black pants, shifted his weight and waited.

“Very well,” the deep voice continued, “She will be in the East Wing of The Takani Medical Centre. Kill her quickly. Don’t screw up.”

Kenshin heard the definite click, signalling that the line was now dead. He gently placed his phone back on its cradle. He sighed.

Another day. Another dollar. Another person would cease to breathe tonight.

Rolling his head around lazily, Kenshin walked across his one bedroom apartment to the fireplace. On the mantel, an ancient set of Japanese swords rested on their decorative racks. Kenshin reached for the longer of the two Japanese swords and lifted it off the rack reverently.

If Himura Kenshin had ever received guests, they would probably have asked why on earth he kept such old looking swords on display. The long sword Kenshin held in his hands certainly looked like it belonged in a museum – but not because it was intricately beautiful. The sword’s sheath was wooden and cracked. The cloth woven around the sword’s handle was torn and stained with sweat.

In fact, the sword looked like it could have been used to kill someone the night before.

In fact, it had been used to kill someone the night before.

Kenshin, known on the streets of Kyoto as Battousai, wrapped a rough brown belt around his trim waist and slipped the longer of the two swords through it. He looked up at the shorter sword and thought about taking it along as well. Shaking his head and brushing back his blood red bangs, he thought against it. The Takani Medical Centre was in a cleaner, richer part of town. Clean, rich people were usually easier to kill. He wouldn’t need the extra sword tonight.

He picked up a long sleeved black shirt that had been lying over the back of an arm chair and pulled it over his lean chest. The handle of the sword stuck up through the material. With grace unexpected, he threw on an old Japanese-style black over coat.

A man such as himself should wear only black.

Shaking the kinks out of his neck, the Battousai strode back across the room to the door. He shut the lights and emerged from the apartment, the door shutting closed.

The assassin feared most in all of Japan’s underground world began his trek to the Takani Medical Centre.

 *~*~*~*

“Okay, that’s the last test for the night,” Takani Megumi announced as she stood to leave.

“Thank you, Megumi-san,” came the soft reply.

Megumi sighed and gathered up her papers and notes. “Get a good night’s rest and we’ll resume tomorrow.”

“Yes, I will.”

“I will inform the other guards that we are done for the evening,” Megumi announced.

“Thank you.”

Megumi sighed at the young girl who sat at the metal table with her delicate hands folded in front of her, still as stone. The seventeen-year old girl was breathing deeply, apparently exhausted from the tests and interviews they had just completed. Megumi cast a sympathetic look at the girl’s bowed head and left the room elegantly.

“You are pale.”

The young black-haired woman looked up at her constant companion, a small smile on her lips. “I am fine, Aoshi-san.”

Aoshi stood from his place in the corner of the large, white-washed room and approached the girl. “You are tired.”

“I am,” the girl responded quietly, smoothing her bangs back. She ran her fingers through her long black ponytail.

“Shall we go then?”

“Ah,” the girl smiled, “In a moment. May we have some tea first?”

“Of course,” the dark-haired bodyguard replied with a slight bow.

At that moment, the door to the large room opened. The girl’s head jerked up in surprise. Aoshi paused, the electric kettle in hand.

Five or six armed guards filed into the room one after the other, each wearing bullet proof vests and carrying very large semi-automatic weapons. Without a word, they took up places around the room. Pushing herself from her chair, the girl shook the sense of dread from her mind and walked over to the wall of windows overlooking the city of Kyoto. Aoshi sighed and continued his task of preparing tea.

“How long will this be necessary, Aoshi-san?”

“Until your legal guardian sees it fit to discontinue their services,” Aoshi answered calmly.

“It just seems so…” her voice trailed off. She leaned her forehead to the glass of the windows, “I just want to live a normal life.”

“Fate would seem to dictate another path for you,” her bodyguard said cryptically as he poured two cups of green tea and set them on the sterile metal table.

She smiled ruefully and returned to sit at the table. Cupping the tea cup with both hands, she brought it up to her nose.

“Smells relaxing.”

Aoshi smiled.

And then they heard the screams from the hallway outside.

Aoshi sprang to his feet. The guards rushed forward, brandishing their weapons. The girl calmly set her tea down and closed her eyes.

The screams died as abruptly as they had begun. An eerie silence settled over the room. All attention was centered on the double doors of the room. Aoshi tensed, his mind rapidly identifying each of the weapons at his disposal.

Then the double doors swung open forcefully. A lone figure, surprisingly short in stature, marched into the room. The doors crashed closed behind him, sealing the finality of the fate of those in the room. The figure stood at the end of the long room, amber eyes roving over each individual – finally coming to rest on the female figure that sat at the far end of a table. The target spotted and the defenses analyzed, the assassin turned and assumed a stance not seen often – the crouch of a trained swordsman.

The guards were struck dumb by the man’s lack of modern weapons. Instead, they saw his hand uncover the ancient looking sword that had been hidden under his cloak. That he would try to get past their semi-automatic guns with a relic of ancient times was almost laughable.

Except there had been those blood-curdling screams from the hall.

Aoshi studied the man at the other end of the room. He was dressed simply – only in black plants, and a black shirt under a knee length black coat. The coat intrigued Aoshi – it resembled the shirts worn by the samurai of the warring eras, wide sleeves and folded collar. The ninja noted the black hand guards worn by the strange attacker and knew that the sword was no ploy. Aoshi, through calculating eyes, observed the stark contrasts apparent on the man. Brilliant red hair was tied up in a high ponytail (again as the samurai had once done) and bangs fell messily over slitted amber eyes. Though the man carried only a sword, experience told Aoshi not to underestimate the small assassin. Besides, he himself used the ninja arts to protect his charge. Mentally, he once again ticked off his hidden weapons.

“If you want to live,” the unknown assassin whispered, “Get out.”

A guard dared chuckle. The amber eyes flicked to the man that dared. Pointing his machine gun at the practically unarmed assassin, the guard opened fire with an almost humorous glint in his unbelieving eyes.

The man died with the same expression plastered on his face.

Even as the bullets rained through empty air, the Battousai was sailing above the man, his sword drawn and deadly. With a silent slash, the guard’s head was sliding across the floor, leaving a bloody trail behind it. Too late, the others began firing their weapons. With lightning speed, Battousai was darting from man to man. Before one could even aim, Battousai was behind him. His sword slashed the man in half, from neck to hip. Bullets hit the corpse as Battousai sprinted away and ripped another’s neck open. The men fell dead into the growing pool of blood, eyes staring into nothingness.

The last man cocked his gun in a panic and aimed, spraying bullets in every direction. Too late, he heard the whistling above his head. Looking up in horror, he saw the red-headed monster lunging down at him, sword lifted. The man’s scream died to a gurgle as Battousai’s sword cut through him, blood spraying onto his face and seeping into his black clothing.

Not bothering to wipe the thick blood that dripped from his crimson hair to his cheeks, the amber-eyed killer stood from his crouch and flicked the blood from his sword. Now all that stood between him and his target was the tall dark-haired man.

“Leave or die,” the Battousai offered again in a deadly whisper.

Ice blue eyes narrowed at the killer. As an answer, Aoshi ran forward, drew back a long arm and then flung it forward. All that Battousai saw were several points of light rapidly approaching him. He flipped into the air and several daggers embedded themselves into the wall behind him. The daggers hadn’t met with flesh but it was all the distraction Aoshi needed. In a flash, both his short swords were out in a back-handed grip. Battousai stepped back as one of Aoshi’s short swords nearly grazed his stomach. Battousai countered each of Aoshi’s graceful slashes with his sword. Aoshi tried desperately to catch the killer’s sword between his two. Battousai smirked.

“You are good,” he commented between swings, “But not good enough to protect her.”

Just as Aoshi lunged forward attempting to slash the assassin’s sword arm, Battousai leapt over him, crouched and swung his sword in a swift silver arc. Aoshi sensed the move too late to leave unscathed. His eyes widened at the pain as Battousai’s steel tore through the muscles of his right thigh. Only through a last minute jump was Aoshi able to avoid having his leg torn from his body. Instead, he collapsed with a terrific thud on the tiled floor, his twin blades clattering to the ground. Battousai stood, afforded him a cold glance and headed for the table where the girl still sat, eyes closed.

“No,” Aoshi groaned aloud, his hands reaching for the sword that lay only inches away. A spasm of pain from his wounded leg caused him to curse and reach instead for his leg. “I won’t let you.”

Battousai looked back over his shoulder at the prone man, one eyebrow arched skeptically. He had yet to meet a bodyguard such as this one. Choosing to get the job over with rather than to finish the man off, Battousai again headed for the girl, his sword raised diagonally from his body.

She heard him approaching her, yet refused to look up. What would her killer look like? She had heard the results of his work only moments before as each of the men had fallen. She had been almost relieved when Aoshi’s curses had come to her hearing. It meant that, at least, he was still alive.

She pressed her lips together in a bitter smile. It would end at last. Someone had finally been able to break through the defenses around her. It would end. She closed her eyes even more tightly as the footsteps stopped in front of her. The metallic stench of blood assaulted her sense of smell and she could feel the waves of the killing aura that this man emitted. She wondered again briefly what this demon must look like. She felt like cowering but willed her body into stone-like stillness. She would die with dignity.

Battousai raised his sword and prepared to strike.

Aoshi struggled, cursing madly but unable to rise.

“Kamiya Kaoru!” Battousai announced coldly, “Prepare to meet your death!”

Letting her black hair stream back behind her, the young woman tilted her head back slightly and opened her eyes to stare death in the face.

In that instant, angry amber met peaceful blue.

And time stopped.

---

Chapter 2: The Chase

I should not be the one to survive this.

My life is but a fleeting excuse.

A passing trend.

A disappearing abomination.

Kaoru stared death in the face. Battousai’s amber eyes locked with Kaoru’s blue pools of sadness and time stopped.

Time stopped but movement did not.

With the cry of a demon, Battousai brought his sword down in a fluid arc of steel. Kaoru’s calm blue eyes closed again.

An anguished cry from Aoshi shattered their communion of death. Battousai was knocked forward roughly and past Kaoru by a pained Aoshi - who had somehow managed to throw himself forward. Aoshi collapsed once again in a bloody heap on the floor beside Kaoru.

“Run,” he heaved painfully, “Please run, Kaoru-san.”

Kaoru turned her wide eyes from her injured bodyguard who lay on the floor to the red-headed killer who was picking himself up from the floor quickly. The assassin turned his head back toward them and Kaoru started at the look of pure fury in the amber eyes that were shadowed under red bangs. Her heart leapt into her throat just as she decided that she could in no way leave Aoshi behind.

As the Battousai gathered himself for a lunge at Aoshi, Kaoru did the only thing she could think of. She jumped to her feet, got a good grip on her seat and threw her chair at the assassin with all the strength she could muster.

Battousai had mere seconds to react, surprise getting the best of him for once. A CHAIR was hurtling at him? With no other options in sight, he let his sword carve the chair in two pieces. As the metal pieces of the chair crashed through the glass windows behind him, he saw Kaoru dragging a limp bodyguard out the double doors. Fury replaced surprise as the Battousai saw his target fleeing the room.

Kaoru acted in a state of panic. Cringing as she heard the glass windows shatter, she pushed the double doors of the room shut. Grasping the night stick of a dead policeman near the door, she jammed it through the handles of the double doors, praying that it would hold the demon inside. She heard him crash against the doors and she gave a wild yelp of fear. Her eyes flew to Aoshi who was barely conscious after having thrown himself at the assassin.

I have to hide him!

She grabbed one of his arms and hefted it over her shoulder, dragging his bleeding body down the hall as fast as she could, her eyes searching wildly for any sort of hiding place. A closet door caught her attention. Through the haze of her adrenaline pumped state, she could hear the hinges of the double doors giving way to the frantic beating it was taking. Almost ripping the door of the cleaning closet open, she pushed Aoshi’s heavy body in – none too gently. She mentally apologized for her rough handling, though she rationalized that he would appreciate it in the long run. Kaoru pulled out the first thing that remotely resembled a weapon from the closet and then, kicking Aoshi’s legs in, shut the door hurriedly. Then, without looking back, she took off running down the long white halls.

Battousai stared at the offending doors, his fury mounting by the second. A mere girl had managed to lock him into a room. Raising his sword high above his head, he swung it downwards angrily. The sword passed between the crack in between the two doors, swiftly slicing through the night stick. He had swung with such force that the tip of his sword was embedded in the linoleum floor. Battousai kicked the doors open forcefully and rushed out into the hallway in time to see his prey disappearing around the corner.

He stepped forward and then noticed the thin trail of blood that stopped right before the closed door of a closet. He stared at it, certain that a dark-haired body guard lay unconscious behind the closet door. He debated with himself.

Kill her quickly. The words of his earlier telephone conversation echoed in his mind. Rushing down the hallway, the Battousai decided to allow the little girl to have that small victory over him. After all, she had taken precious moments to hide the bodyguard from him, even if sloppily.

Battousai turned the corner and still did not see the girl. A tiny spark of surprise registered as he realized just how much distance she had been able to put between them in that moment he had spent deciding. He sped up, his sword drawn and ready. The corridor ended again, the only option being to turn right. Battousai laughed inwardly; there was no way she could hide in this building. He turned the corner without even slowing down.

And then was stopped abruptly as something damp and disgusting was shoved into his face all at once. Battousai sputtered as the rancid, stringy mass was pushed farther into his face harshly. Then, suddenly the thing was off his face. His grip tightened on his sword as he brushed the re-hydrated dried blood and smelly liquid from his face. Through the smelly haze he saw the girl whirl something in her hands around and the disgusting mass hit the side of his head forcefully again. Battousai was forced into the wall and he heard the thing clatter to the floor as the girl took off again at a run. Shaking the nasty water from his hair, he prepared to run again, glancing down momentarily.

He almost tripped.

Lying at his feet was a wet mop. A MOP?! Anger once again overtook his surprise as he raced after the insufferable girl who, only minutes ago, had looked like a martyr ready to accept death at his hands. He growled in irritation as he gradually began to gain on her.

Kaoru panted in panic as she heard the assassin’s light footsteps becoming louder behind her. She hastily turned yet another corner and vaguely felt irritation towards whoever had designed the medical centre. A new door presented itself to Kaoru’s field of vision.

A stairwell!

Without thinking, Kaoru pushed past the exit doors and flung herself into racing down the stairs. Distantly, she heard the piercing fire alarm going off as a result of her opening the emergency exit doors. Not really caring, she concentrated on her flight down the stairs. Only another few flights of stairs and she’d be at the exit of the building. She mentally counted the flights as she dashed down. Four more. Three more. Two more.

Then hearing a thud behind her, Kaoru knew her time had all but run out. She barely turned her head and knew that the assassin was only a few steps behind her. The sharp glint of his blade caught her eye and panic once again took over her body.

Battousai flew down the stairs easily, mentally cursing the fire alarm. He knew that his time would soon run out. Only a few more steps. He raised his sword horizontally, preparing to slash at her when she was finally within range.

Kaoru saw the landing of the steps and the exit door. Only a single flight of stairs down. Determination filled her muscles as she leapt from the step in a desperate attempt to distance herself from the terrible glint of the assassin’s sword. For a single moment, she felt the air rush through her hair as she sailed downwards.

Battousai swiped through thin air as the girl leapt clear of his sword – the blade catching only a few wisps of her hair. He watched, still tearing down the steps, as she attempted to jump almost a complete flight of stairs.

It was hardly a surprise to him, then, when he saw her foot crunch against the cement landing, her knee buckle under the strain and her body tumble forward. He was hardly surprised when he heard her cry of pain and when he saw her sprawled on her side on the cold, hard landing. As she tried to sit up and pull her injured leg close to her body, he slowed his descent, the grip on his sword tightening in anticipation.

As he reaching the landing, the girl bowed her head and backed up slightly, tears running down her cheeks in rivulets. The assassin trailed the tip of his sword across the cement as he approached, the sound causing a soft whimper to escape the girl. Satisfied that she was finally producing the desired reactions of a victim, he raised his sword and prepared to deliver a backhanded slash that would take her lovely head off.

Then the girl lifted her head and her blue eyes pierced his, tears still running from them. The mere expression in her eyes was enough to cause a pause in the Battousai’s swing.

It was not fear that he saw reflected in the glassy blue eyes.

It was not desperation.

It was not pleading.

Battousai ran down the list of acceptable emotions as his arm tensed for a strike. Then it hit him.

The blue eyes were angry. She was staring up at her assassin and her blue eyes were fairly crackling with unspoken fury.

Battousai was astounded.

Then the sirens of approaching fire trucks and security alerted him to the scarcity of time. He turned back to Kamiya Kaoru, his arm still raised above her. The look of absolute rage in her eyes was enough to push him over the edge.

Without hesitation Battousai brought his arm down in a vicious strike.

Kaoru crumpled to the cement floor, lifeless as a doll. A thin trickle of blood dribbled down her neck. Battousai exhaled loudly as he wiped the excess blood from his shiny blade on his cloak. Then he turned the sword and brushed at the hilt, removing Kaoru’s blood from where the hilt of his sword had connected with her skull. He sheathed his sword quickly and flipped the cloak over it, effectively concealing the long traditional weapon.

Stooping down, he inspected the wound at the base of his victim’s skull. Hearing her shallow breathing convinced him that she would be alive enough to be interesting, and he lifted her from the ground.

Vaguely mentioning to himself that he would complete his assassination when he had satisfied his curiosity, he threw her unresponsive body over his shoulder and carried her out the exit she was so hoping to get to only a few moments before.

In silence, Battousai disappeared into the many dark alleys of Kyoto – carrying with him, for the first time, a living cargo.

The security units that arrived at the scene of the crime found only masses of dead men and one unconscious bodyguard. Mysteriously, only bullets of the guards were found. Only the blood of the guards would be identified. Baffled, the coroners would speculate that a traditional Japanese long sword had been the weapon used to inflict all the wounds. Confused, detectives would laugh and question the coroners’ sanity since NO ONE used swords in assassinations anymore. And even if they tried, a swordsman would never be able to best half a dozen armed guards.

Days later in a hospital, a bodyguard would awake to concerned faces only to look for his disappeared charge. He would curse silently and vow to find her and her attacker.

The next morning, Kamiya Kaoru would awake to a pair of glittering amber eyes.

Author’s Notes: Okay – here’s something I want everyone to know. Kenshin IS already 27 or so, the same age as when he met Kaoru in the manga. Except in this fic, he is STILL Battousai, i.e., he has been an assassin for most of his life already. I think that if Kenshin had stayed the way he was in the Bakamatsu, he would have a slightly, if not completely, different personality. So I just changed him a bit to suit his circumstances. Also, he hasn’t met Tomoe. He still has the cross scar but it’s not from the original reason in the manga (AU, people, AU). And this is NOT MEANT TO BE A “KAORU fulfilling TOMOE’s role” story. Kaoru is not going to be a replacement for Tomoe here – although it may seem that way for a bit. But in this smutty little story, they meet under different pretexts, live together for very different reasons, interact differently and the end of it all is different. So NO, the TOMOE-KENSHIN relationship is NOT the model for this story.
Moo…this was supposed to be a quick, smut, happy go lucky, get the writing juices flowing fic but now I’m all into it.

Chapter 3: Cage to Cage

I fly from place to place

No meaning, no anchor to steady me

If meaning is lost,

We are like aimless birds

Moving from cage to cage

I will never be free.

“Who are you?”

It was a simple question. An expected question. And yet, Himura Kenshin was caught off guard by its direct nature. He pulled back from the girl, having only deposited her on the leather armchair only moments before. Her blue eyes followed him as he stepped back and straightened himself.

“Who are you?” the girl repeated, her voice ringing clear.

Kenshin stared at her. It shouldn’t have seemed an abnormal question. In fact, most people asked it of people whom they did not recognize. She, obviously, did not know him really. So it was a perfectly justifiable question.

However, Kenshin found it completely absurd for her to be asking him who he was.

After all, he had kidnapped her. And he had been her attacker. And he had brought her to this apartment unknown to her. So it was absurd for her to ask him that question so directly. Still silently observing her, he slipped the blood encrusted cloak from his shoulders and tossed it to the metal and glass coffee table that rested in front of her.

Kaoru wrinkled her nose at the sight of the cloak. Then she raised defiant eyes again to the killer. There it was again – that same defiance.

“Who are you?” she repeated with almost an air of impatience, “It shouldn’t be a confusing question.”

Kenshin’s eyebrows went up, baffled by her apparent lack of fear. He voiced his thoughts almost without thinking: “Why aren’t you afraid?”

Kaoru cocked her head to the side slightly. “Should I be?” she asked calmly.

In answer, Kenshin gripped the handle of his sword and swiftly untied the belt that held it to his waist. The rough cloth fluttered to the floor. Slowly, Kenshin slid the blade from the sheath and then tossed the wood aside. With deliberate slowness, he took a few steps closer to the girl and leaned over her, one knee resting lightly beside hers on the leather cushion. With a featherlike caress, Kenshin drew the edge of the blade across the thin skin of her delicate throat.  

Kaoru’s breath did not speed up. Her chest did not rise and fall with greater force. Instead, she met his eyes and spoke - her voice even and steady.

“You smell disgusting,” she commented impassively, the stench of the blood caked to his clothing assaulting her nostrils.

Kenshin made no motion to disagree or agree with her uncommon statement. Instead, he pressed the blade to her jugular. She felt the pressure but the blade did not break her skin.

“Do you enjoy your occupation?” she asked, her voice demanding.

Kenshin narrowed his eyes at her. Suddenly he withdrew. Sheathing his sword quickly, he stalked away from her towards the fireplace. He carefully raised the sword over the mantle with both hands and placed it on the rack below that of the short sword.

“Do you?” persisted Kaoru.

Kenshin shot the woman a dark look. Kaoru examined his eyes, half-hidden behind wild red bangs. To her, his brilliant gold eyes flashed with anger. But underneath it she detected an emotion that ran deeper. She caught the strange strain in his angry glare and picked at it with her mind. Was it regret? Was it sadness? Pain? The closest emotion she could pin to the expression in his eyes was that of hurt.

Hurt?

In a killer’s eyes?

Kaoru tilted her head back and observed the high-ponytailed man closely. “Well?”

“Do you think I do?” the man threw back at her as he strode angrily to a bar at the other end of the large suite. He passed behind the bar and threw open the liquor fridge, pulling out a large, frosted glass bottle of Vodka.

“You do your job almost every night, don’t you?”

Kenshin slammed the bottle down onto the counter after having poured himself a drink. He inhaled deeply.

“Does that, in any way,” Kenshin began crossly, “prove that I enjoy my occupation?”

With one brief swig, Kenshin downed the half-full glass of straight vodka. He slid the empty glass across the counter with practiced precision. The glass tumbled over the edge of the sink violently and crashed into the metal basin, almost shattering. Kenshin slammed his palm down onto the counter.

Disgusting, he thought, the taste of it is disgusting. 

Kaoru watched, her eyes wide with surprise and alarm. His sudden outburst of raw rage had been much more frightening than his calculated displays of force before. His raw and untamed anger was terrible – and fearsome.

Kenshin inhaled and exhaled deeply, the sound of his breaths unbearably loud in the sudden silence of the apartment.

“The taste,” came a gentle voice from across the room, “The taste and the smell must haunt you.”

Through half-crazed eyes, Kenshin looked up at the source of the voice. He eyes narrowed in glazed, irrational anger upon meeting her sympathetic gaze.

“You shouldn’t,” he growled, “You should not dare to-”

The stabbing ring of the telephone interrupted him – startling both Kaoru and Kenshin. They both stared at the phone as if it were a foreign object. Then it rang again, its shrillness hurting their ears. Kenshin moved to where a phone hung from the wall.

“What?” he growled into the receiver, pulling it violently from its cradle.

Kaoru watched Kenshin’s face as he conversed with whoever it was. The emotions were written plain as day on his face – first anger, then surprise. Intrigued, she couldn’t help but overhear his muttered responses.

“How did you know?” Kenshin demanded.

A look of almost sheepish embarrassment crossed his features for a moment. Only a moment.

“I know you made it clear,” Kenshin said into the phone.

A pause as Kenshin listened.

“She is in my keeping now. Shall I complete the job?”

Kaoru jumped slightly in her seat as she divined the implications of that statement.

“What for?” he questioned solemnly.

An incredulously cocked eyebrow.

“I don’t care,” Kenshin muttered, “You’re the boss. It’s just really strange.”

He snorted into the phone at whatever comment was made.

“That’s absurd,” he grunted, “I would never even-”

The assassin was apparently interrupted. This time the pause was longer.

“If you didn’t want her dead, why’d you issue the order in the first place?”

A slight look of annoyance passed over his face.

“I know it’s not my job to know that. I just think it was a wasted night. So fine sir, I’ll do whatever you say.”

Kenshin clenched his teeth. He was not a goddamn babysitter for some pubescent teenager.

“I have it under control, sir,” he grumbled, closing his eyes.

Kaoru looked up expectantly as Kenshin replaced the receiver onto its cradle slowly. He turned slowly to face the waiting girl. Kaoru regarded him warily. Her attacker was a true enigma. He was older – no doubt about it. But although his age showed through his gait and his demeanour, his sharp, defined facial features held a feminine appearance. Of course, his very long, very red hair that was tied in a high ponytail added to his strange appeal. 

“You will be staying here,” the man announced quietly, striding towards the door purposefully.

Kaoru pressed her lips together. “Excuse me?”

Kenshin did not bother to answer her. Instead, he slipped a thin chain from his neck. Letting the chain dangle, he pushed a large key into a heavy deadbolt lock and flipped the key around, locking the door.

Kaoru peered over assorted pieces of furniture. “What are you doing?”

“My employer has decided that you’ll be staying here for awhile,” Kenshin calmly responded as he clicked another deadbolt lock closed, “And you need these keys to unlock the door. And these keys-” He lifted the chain and let it drop around his neck, “-belong to me and they stay around my neck. So you will not be able to leave.”

He turned to give Kaoru a dangerous glare. “And we’re on the 15th floor and there’s no ledge – so don’t sneak out the window unless you’re planning to jump.”

Kaoru stared at him. “And what if-”

“Don’t bother screaming and yelling,” he replied to her unspoken question curtly, “This entire block is owned by my employer and inhabited by handpicked members.” He paused and then added, “And the phones are tapped, for your information.”

Kaoru screwed her face up. “Are you sure you should be telling me this?” she asked with a mocking tone.

The look that Kenshin shot her chilled her. “Does it really matter now?” he asked coldly.

Kaoru could not suppress a shiver. Kenshin, on the other hand, stripped off his shirt and threw it over the arm of a black leather sofa as he marched away from her. He disappeared into a short hallway and Kaoru heard the click of a bathroom door lock. A few seconds later, she heard water running.

What a host, she thought to herself dryly.

Reminding herself that she was not quite a guest, she leaned forward and massaged her sore ankle. From experience, she knew that she would not be able to run or walk without a limp for a day or two. But it was not seriously strained.

Sighing, she sank into the leather armchair. Her eyes roved leisurely about her surroundings. After all, what else was there to do? The Battousai did not seem the type of man to hide an extra set of house keys in a drawer somewhere. And obviously, trying to overpower him with a kitchen knife was out of the question.

The apartment was simple, though quite spacious. She sat in the corner of a very open, very square living space. Around her, several black leather couches and armchairs were spread around a metal and glass coffee table. Black seemed to be one of his favourite colours, she noted, remembering his outfit. Across from her was a steel kitchenette and bar, complete with stools. A small dinette set lay nearby. To her far right, stood the impenetrable door. She sighed inwardly. Then she scrutinized a closed door and dark hallway. She guessed that the closed door would lead to a bedroom and the hall to some kind of bathroom.

As if pulled, her eyes drifted towards the fireplace and mantle at her left. Her eyes rested on the ancient Japanese swords that lay on decorative wooden racks that were far more beautiful than the swords themselves. But Himura Kenshin’s first real guest knew what the swords were actually used for. But still, as any stranger would, his sort-of guest wondered why on earth he decided to keep them on display in such a prominent place.

As inspiration?

As a reminder?

Kaoru’s thoughts turned away from Kenshin’s living arrangements and back to her own predicament.

So, she mused, they had decided against ending her life – whoever they happened to be. That meant, of course, that someone had deemed her valuable enough to keep around.

Someone knew something about her.

The question was – how much?

Kaoru closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She was tired. Tired of the endless chase. The Battousai may as well have killed her.

From one cage to another, she thought bitterly.

But no, Kaoru chided herself. She was being unfair to Megumi-san and Aoshi-san. The doctor, Takani Megumi, had been caring enough. And although the tests and interviews had been as intense as ever, Megumi-san had treated her well. And like a human.

And Aoshi – well – Aoshi had been with Kaoru since she was a child. He had constantly hovered behind her, his shadow becoming a comforting presence. She hoped, with all her heart, that he was all right.

The water stopped running.

Kaoru tensed and waited for the Battousai’s appearance.

Eyes closed and head bowed, Kenshin let the hot water run through his bangs and over his naked body. Pink water swirled down the drain. Kenshin didn’t bother to look. He had seen it before.

With his palms flat against the shower tiles, Kenshin leaned forward and let the streaming water wash the blood away. The shower head was at the strongest setting; the stream of hot water was almost painful as it jet water at him. He tensed and untensed his arm muscles, reflecting on the events of the previous night.

If he had only killed her right away like he was supposed to, he wouldn’t have been in this predicament.

If he’d only killed her.

Kenshin ran his fingers through his loose damp hair, strands clinging to his muscular back.

She would be such a problem. He could just see it now.

Kenshin jerked the shower off and the water rushed from the bottom spout. He twisted the knobs shut and the water flow ceased. Shaking the droplets from his wet, clingy red hair, Kenshin pulled the frosted plastic shower doors open. He towelled his long hair until all the excess water had been absorbed and then he quickly patted the rest of his body dry. He stepped from the shower and pulled a traditional Japanese sleeping robe around his body.

And that is how he emerged from the bathroom: clad only in a blue sleeping yukata and with his damp, thick red hair down his back. He entered the living area in time to see Kaoru tense at his appearance.

“Get up please,” he commanded the startled girl.

“Why?”

“I say so,” Kenshin coolly reasoned, patience thin as ice.

“I need clothes,” Kaoru informed her captor curtly.

“You’re wearing clothes,” he informed her back.

“Unlike some people,” Kaoru sniffed, “I can’t stand the smell of blood. I need new clothes; mine are soaked with blood.”

Kenshin narrowed his amber eyes. “Just be glad it’s not your blood, girl,” he replied in a very low, very dangerous voice, “Now, get up please.”

Kaoru locked eyes with the man, refusing to budge – but not only because she was stubborn. She was also, deep down, afraid of being near the man. The aura he gave off was terrifying.

Kenshin stalked over to where she was sitting and hauled her up by her upper arm. He dragged her across the room and flung the bedroom door open. Then, he all but tossed her into the room.

Kaoru regarded the room with raised eyebrows. A four poster bed? A huge white comforter? Big fluffy white pillows? She turned to the assassin.

“Is this your room?”

Kenshin pushed her fully into the room. “My employer furnished the apartment,” he said gruffly, shutting the door in her face.

“Clothes?” Kaoru called through the closed door.

No answer. Kaoru heard the jingling of keys and a previously unseen lock clicked closed.

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” she called.

“Deal with it,” came the brusque reply, muffled by the door, “This isn’t a hotel.”

Kaoru stepped away from the door and almost rolled her eyes.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered to herself, taking in the plush surroundings once more.

Kaoru inhaled. The smell of blood on her clothes was truly irritating her. Stepping lightly across the room, she pulled the doors to a tall wardrobe open. Several t-shirts were piled on the shelves.

Black t-shirts? Is it a fetish? She sighed.

She paused for a moment, wondering if it would be all right to use one. Then she snorted. The man had killed half a dozen men, injured Aoshi, kidnapped her – she would rip all his clothes up if she only had the energy. But settling for one clean t-shirt, Kaoru pulled off her pleated school skirt, blouse and jacket and slipped into the black cotton t-shirt.

For a moment, Kaoru wondered if she should stoop to sleep in the bed of a killer. But her fatigue overruled her principles for once. Kaoru clambered up into the bed and snuggled under the blankets.

For a killer, he sleeps comfortably.

The thought was her last as she drifted into an uncomfortable sleep – fuelled only by her extreme fatigue.

Outside the room, Kenshin leaned with his back to the door, rubbing his temples. He listened for the swing of his wardrobe and the creak of his mattress.

She was such a child. Couldn’t be more than sixteen, eighteen tops.

Kenshin briefly wondered about her strange mood swings.

Did she not grasp the severity of her situation? Didn’t she understand that she was his captive, not his visiting niece?

Was she naïve?

Ultra brave?

Or maybe she was just stupid.

Kenshin sighed as he stepped away from the door and headed for the couch. Damn his employer for forcing a mere child on him. Damn him. With a heaving sigh, Kenshin eased himself into an armchair. Laying his arms on the armrests, he let his chin fall forward.

Sleep came. Nightmares too.

 Deep into the night, Kamiya Kaoru was tossing under the heavy blankets around her. Her black hair haloed her pale face in the cool moonlight. Her thin, delicate wrists rustled back and forth agitatedly above her head. Beneath her translucent eyelids, her eyes fluttered fretfully.

The racing. The running. The horrible milling. The hundreds of dark, bushy bodies pressing in upon her, crushing her, cornering her. She felt it again. She struggled to breathe, her gasps of air erratic and laboured.

Kaoru’s head tossed around wildly against Battousai’s pillow.

Then suddenly, her wide blue eyes snapped open, a look of pure terror in their depths.

 A high-pitched, blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the apartment, shattering the deep night stillness.

To be continued…