New Characters:

Ikumatsu: A “modern geisha” who trains Kaoru in etiquette and who will accompany Katsura to the country estate as his escort.
Tsubame: A young girl used by Katsura to incite Kenshin to fight
Ieyasu Tokugawa Leader of the Bakufu political party
Kazuma Ishigawa Ieyasu’s right hand man

Characters So Far:

Kenshin “Battousai” Himura: An assassin for the Choshu organization. Kidnapper/guardian for Kaoru Kamiya.
Kaoru Kamiya: A 17 year old girl with the ability to erase and take people’s memories. She was held by various criminal organizations, tortured and experimented upon.
Kogoro Katsura: The leader of the illegal Choshu organization. Also a prominent politician.
Shinsaku Tagasugi: Katsura’s right hand man and Kenshin’s supervisor.
Uno “Linda”: Takasugi’s lover. She was tortured and killed, supposedly by Bakufu.
Megumi Takani: Kaoru’s doctor – employed by Hiko Seijuro and now under Katsura.
Aoshi Shinomori: Kaoru’s former bodyguard under Hiko Seijuro.
Seijuro Hiko: A friend to Katsura.
Genji: Another Choshu assassin.
Tomomi: A classmate of Kaoru’s.
Setsuko Amemiya: A Bakufu politician and former lover of Katsura. Assasinated by Kenshin.
Ieyasu Tokugawa: Politician in power. Also the leader of Bakufu, the organization that Choshu is secretly trying to crush.
Kazuma Ishigawa: Ieyasu’s right hand man.  

The Story So Far in a Boring Nutshell: The story begins with Kaoru Kamiya, a mysterious teenager under tight guard at Takani Medical Centre (by Aoshi Shinomori). Kenshin Himura, an assassin known as Battousai, is sent to kill her but instead he kidnaps her and takes her back to his apartment. Battousai is employed by Choshu, an elusive underground organization. Surprisingly, his supervisor, Shinsaku Takasugi, orders him to keep Kaoru in his apartment. Later, Kaoru meets Choshu’s leader, Kogoro Katsura, who is also a well-known politician. Within a few short weeks, Kaoru has used her extraordinary ability to aid Choshu (most notably,with regard to Yuki Sohma and Alan Morton). Recently, Katsura has organized Kaoru’s schooling. It is also revealed that Megumi and Aoshi are working for Seijuro Hiko. Hiko seems to be Katsura’s friend and the two have struck some sort of deal. Kaoru notices that Uno suffered similar torture to hers (burn torture). Kenshin vows that he will not permit anyone to harm her, although he would kill her if so ordered. Takasugi lost his only love, Uno, to Bakufu, the ruling organization. Though Ieyasu Tokugawa (Bakufu’s head honcho) does not suspect Choshu (a supposed ally) of any mutiny, Kazuma Ishikawa (Tokugawa’s main man) wishes to investigate. Setsuko Amemiya (Katsura’s former lover) is assassinated by Kenshin. After inciting an incident at the Sakura Tea House, Katsura tells Kenshin that Kaoru ‘belongs’ to him. Kenshin seems to be torn between his growing feelings for Kaoru and his duty as a shadow assassin. In the previous chapter, Kaoru and Kenshin are sent to a country manor to assassinate Akira Kiyosato during a weekend retreat. They share a rare intimate moment. But, as always, peace is far from them. 

Chapter 20: scarring

Though scarred and broken,

We cling to hope.

Last Time:

Kenshin’s eyes opened wide as he felt Kaoru step towards him and press her hands into his back. Gently, she rested her forehead against the nape of his neck, her soft breath making his hair stand on end.

“Why?” Her voice was a mere whisper.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

“That I want to protect you.” Kenshin’s voice was quiet and thoughtful in a way she had never heard before. “That I don’t want anyone else to touch you. That I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“Will you?” Her question was equally quiet. “Hurt me?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I want to protect you but my only purpose is to destroy. And if Katsura wants you-”

“Will you always obey him?”

“Yes.” He looked down. “That is the path I have chosen. If I back away now, all those lives…” He paused. “All the lives I have taken would have been in vain.”

“I see.” 

He closed his eyes as she fell into silence, her forehead still pressed into the back of his neck.

“Himura-san!” a boyish voice suddenly shattered the quiet, “Himura-san, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Though Kaoru remained immobile, Kenshin’s head snapped up as someone hurtled toward them through the trees.

“Why?” His demand was like whiplash.

“Katsura-san wants to see you,” the young man huffed, slowing to a jog as he neared.

“Katsura?” An eyebrow rose, “And who might you be?”

“Me?” the man answered, stopping, “Kiyosato. I’m Akira Kiyosato.”

“Kiyosato,” the assassin growled, his hand going to the hilt of his sword as he sunk into a battle stance, “Your life is mine.”

“What?” the man exclaimed, bewildered.

Kenshin thumbed out his sword and readied himself to spring onto the shocked man. A faint tug on the back of his shirt stopped him. He looked over his shoulder at the girl.

“Kaoru,” he mouthed silently.

“Please,” she begged, “Please don’t.”

“Get back.” Battousai’s voice was cold and commanding.

Her grip only tightened on the back of his shirt as she collapsed onto him. “No, Kenshin,” she whispered.

His hand leaving his sword for only a moment, Battousai grabbed her by the collar. “I said,” he snarled, “Get back.” He flung her backward into the tree, where she sunk to her knees, eyes wide.

“Not even you can come between me and my duty,” he growled menacingly. He turned, his hand on his sword in his trademark battle stance. “Akira Kiyosato, prepare to die.”

“Kenshin!” she half-sobbed as he turned his back on her.

But her cry was lost in the brilliant blasts of fireworks above them.

And Chapter 20 (scarring) continues:

Kaoru stared past Kenshin’s back at Akira Kiyostato. Her eyes widened incredulously as his posture changed abruptly. He relaxed into a casually confident stance, one hand resting on the pommel of the sword at his side.

“Die? Your pretend sword won’t do much damage, I fear,” Akira’s voice darkened, “But mine will.”

Ikumatsu stood beside Katsura, watching the sky light up with brilliant explosions.

“Sir,” she inquired, “Was that Akira Kiyosato just now?”

“Indeed it was.” Katsura’s eyes did not leave the fireworks display.

“Why did you think it necessary to send him to Himura-san?”

“Because Himura will be at his strongest at this moment. When Kiyosato finds him, Himura will most likely be with Kamiya. So, the twin desires, to destroy and to protect, will work together.”

“Katsura-san,” his escort asked, “Why would Himura-san feel the need to protect if he is just to kill Kiyosato-san?”

“Do you know what type of man Kiyosato is, Ikumatsu?”

“I know nothing about him, sir.”

“Kiyosato is dangerous to us for two main reasons. First, he is a public and adamant supporter of the Bakufu party.” Katsura paused.

“And secondly?” Ikumatsu prodded, turning to gaze at Katsura’s handsome profile.

“He is an assassin of great skill.”

“Kiyosato is?”

Katsura looked down at the grass. “One must marvel at his genius. Thus far, Kiyosato has managed to maintain a public profile and carry out assassination duties.”

“Is that possible?”

“Yes, of course. If no one survives an assassination, no one can tell anyone else.”

“I see,” Ikumatsu thought aloud, “So you fear that Kiyosato-san may be too strong an opponent for Himura-san. Perhaps his weapons are more effective?”

“On the contrary,” Katsura corrected her, “They will be a perfect match. Kiyosato, like Himura, uses the Japanese long sword as his weapon of choice.”

“Himura-san uses a sword?” Ikumatsu’s brow furrowed slightly, “Won’t it be obvious who the killer was, then?”

“Look around you, Ikumatsu,” the older man responded quietly, “Nearly all the men here are carrying swords. Some may be of no real use but,” He paused to point discreetly at the swords of the man standing in front of them, “I’ll bet those are real. I’ll wager that many people are carrying real swords.”

“So,” his escort inferred, “You chose Himura-san for this mission because he uses a sword?”

“I chose Himura,” Katsura’s tone lowered, “Because he is the only one in our forces who could possibly defeat Akira Kiyosato.”

A continuous spray of colorful blasts rocked the sky, rendering conversation impossible.

“So it is as I suspected,” Ikumatsu mused thoughtfully, “Himura-san is Choshu’s shadow assassin.”

In the darkness behind them, a pair eyes flashed triumphantly.

“You must be one of Choshu’s assassins,” Akira deduced, sinking into a battle stance that mirrored Kenshin’s, “I must admit, you’re much smaller than I imagined.”

“What do you know of Choshu?” Battousai snarled, concealing his shock.

“Not much.” Akira’s voice was conversational, “But we’ve suspected that Choshu’s been secretly opposing Bakufu for some time now. I’ve been trying to find a certain shadow assassin of theirs for a while. Could you be that person, by any chance?”

“I don’t speak to dead men,” Battousai growled, sizing up his opponent.

“Well,” Akira chuckled softly, “I’m not a dead man. You are.” He looked past Kenshin to eye Kaoru. “Unfortunately, I don’t leave witnesses.”

“You won’t have to!” In the instant that Akira looked past him, Battousai lunged forward and swept his sword from its sheath in a lightning fast arc of steel.

“My, my,” Akira commented, as he countered Battousai’s strike with his shaking sword, “Eager are we?”

Twisting, Akira flung Kenshin’s sword away from his. They rushed at each other simultaneously, their blades clashing loudly.

Kaoru pushed herself up, her horrified blue eyes riveted to the fighting pair. Akira and Kenshin were deeply locked in battle, the ringing of steel incessant. In their traditional clothing, they looked like actors in an old samurai movie performing an elaborately choreographed fight scene. But Kaoru knew that each step had deadly potential. Her breath quickening, Kaoru could see that Akira Kiyosato was as close a match to Kenshin as she had ever seen before. Teeth grit and eyes narrowed in obvious concentration, both warriors flew at each other, their swords blurred in motion.

Akira slammed his sword downward and Kenshin narrowly flipped out of the blade’s path. He skidded to a stop in front of Kaoru, his breath laboured.

“There are rumours,” Akira began quietly, straightening and brandishing his sword, “Of a cold and merciless killer who hunts with a sword.”

Battousai remained impassive, also straightening, his sword glinting in the darkness at his side.

“If you are that man,” Akira continued quietly, “Then who is this woman?”

“It is no business of yours!” Battousai barked suddenly.

The two broke into a sudden sprint towards each other, their swords at ready. Steel met steel in vicious swipe after swipe. Kaoru now saw what sword play really was. Amid the sound of grating metal, she saw, with terror, the speed at which both men were lashing out with their razor sharp swords. Akira’s swings were powerful, almost always pushing Battousai’s sword back with a spray of sparks. But Kenshin was fast, always releasing the pressure and ducking in for another blow. It was the legendary god-like speed of the destroyer.

And then the turning point.

Akira’s jaw had begun to droop carelessly as he fought for strength. The demon attacking was relentless and his attacks were too swift for the untrained eye to even anticipate. For all his strength, Akira was growing weary. If he grew too slow…

The man suddenly sprung forward with a new burst of energy, surprising even Battousai.

“I cannot die here,” he shouted, launching forward.

Kenshin parried the sudden defensive strike deftly. Kiyosato began to throw wild swings in a desperate attempt to push Kenshin back. Frowning, the smaller assassin briefly wondered why his opponent, at the beginning cool-headed and dangerous, was now nothing more than a frenzied beast.

Meanwhile, silhouetted by the fireworks on the path to the grove, a tall solemn woman slowly made her way toward them.

Ikumatsu watched Katsura’s chiseled features from the corner of her eye. Though his face was turned to the sky, his eyes were lightly closed in thought.

“Sir,” she intoned lightly, “What is the matter?”

“Nothing, Ikumatsu,” he replied quietly, his eyes still shut to the world.

“Are you not enjoying the fireworks display?”

“Such things do not particularly interest me, my dear.”

“Then,” his escort conversed, “What does interest you?”

Katsura’s lips lifted in a semblance of a smile. “You do not need to entertain me, Ikumatsu.”

She shrugged slightly. “It is as much for me as it is for you.”

“My, my,” he said, turning to her, “Those are the most honest words that have fallen from your lips in all the time I’ve known you.”

“Our time together is almost over, sir.” She declined to look at him.

“Indeed,” he chuckled, “And I must thank you for your work on our dear Kamiya-san. It must have been quite the chore.”

“I have had worse assignments,” Ikumatsu replied gravely.

“Haven’t we all.”

The woman looked at the ground as the man looked to the sky.

“The world is cruel,” she muttered to the blades of grass, “I will miss you, sir, and the woman-child.”

“Akira!” The tall woman called as she shuffled along the path beside the grove of cherry trees.

The elegant woman, who fanned herself lightly with a paper fan, was as graceful as a swaying birch. Her doe-like eyes, which searched the area, were serious but kind. “Akira, where are you?” she called again in her bell-like voice.

The man was her source of comfort and distress all at once. She loved him. With all her soul, she treasured him. Though he tried to conceal his other life from her, she knew when he disappeared in the middle of the night. She wished it were to something petty, such as drinking, gambling or even another woman, but Tomoe knew better. She saw the haunted look in his eyes. She saw the blood stains on the metal rim of the basement sink. She knew he dealt death to others in the dark of the night. She knew he was consumed by his duty to help his adored leader, Ieyasu Tokugawa of the Bakufu party.

And she hated it. She feared it – a shameful death on the streets. Even as she fanned her pale face delicately, she feared for him.

The sudden, sharp ring of steel made her blood run cold. She turned and rushed to the edge of the trees, her fan discarded on the gravel path. As she crested the hill and looked through the shower of pink petals, her heart stopped.

As if feeling the catch in his beloved’s breath, Akira Kiyosato looked up toward the hill. His despairing eyes met his wife’s own, his heart twisting violently in his chest. In the frozen moment, he watched the fluttering of her dark hair, the slow dip of her thick lashes as she blinked, the gentle rise of her chest as she inhaled.

“Tomoe.” The name escaped his lips like a hopeless prayer.

Not bothering to turn and see what had distracted his adversary, Battousai lunged, his sword swinging down. Apologetically, Kiyosato tore his gaze away, barely blocking the other assassin’s sword with his second, sheathed short sword. The blade bit into Kiyosato’s scabbard, shivering with the impact. As Kenshin ripped his weapon free, the dry, brittle sheath broke apart, exposing the sheen of steel. Akira leapt back, one bright sword now in each hand.

“I cannot die here.” His voice was quiet.

“You do not have a choice.”

As the two combatants made a final, mad rush at each other, Tomoe threw herself into a wild run toward them, a strangled scream she couldn’t even hear erupting from her throat. If only the red-haired assassin were not between them, the lovers would be flying toward one another.

But all Tomoe could hear was the sickening sound of steel tearing through flesh and bone as her husband and the assassin flew past each other. All she could see through a growing red haze was the sight of her beloved crumpling to the ground, his arm clutched to his bleeding stomach. He collapsed onto his stomach, reaching one bloodied hand toward her crouched form. She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen to her knees.

“Tomoe.” The name was his dying breath.

She cradled her face in both hands, the tears spilling out from between her fingers. She did not see Battousai stand over her fallen lover and stake his neck to the wet earth with his long sword. She did not watch her husband’s pupils roll upward and his eyes close. She could not discern the tears still seeping from his eyes from the blood that covered him.

The victorious assassin stepped away from the body, swinging his sword and sheathing it. A young woman rose from her position against a tree and rushed toward the scene, only to be stopped by Battousai’s outstretched arm. She looked questioningly to his face, then inhaled harshly. His sharp amber eyes flicked to hers questioningly. Her fingers fluttered over his left cheek and he pressed his palm to it gingerly. Looking down as he pulled his hand away from his face, he saw a long line of blood imprinted to his open hand. Battousai frowned.

“You were cut.”

Dropping his arm and ignoring her question, Kenshin strode purposefully toward the prostrate woman. He unsheathed his sword and held it out, tip to the back of the woman’s neck.

“Kaoru.”

Kaoru’s blue eyes dropped to the silent woman between them. Silent unchecked tears were streaming down her alabaster cheeks.

“Tomoe,” she whispered.

“Don’t say my name.” The sweet voice was low with sorrow. “Just kill me.”

“Do it now,” Kenshin warned, “Or I will kill her.”

Kaoru stared up into Kenshin’s cold eyes unbelievingly. “But-”

“Now,” Battousai threatened, pushing the tip of his sword closer to Tomoe’s neck.

Kaoru sighed, dropped to her knees, leaned forward and extended a slim hand to Tomoe. Suddenly, Tomoe’s long fingers closed around her wrist.

“This will kill him too, the man you love,” Tomoe whispered fiercely.

Stunned, Kaoru gaped open-mouthed at the plea in the woman’s eyes.

“Will you let them take his life in this way?”

“Kaoru,” Kenshin barked his last warning.

Her other hand shot out fearfully, her fingers sliding against Tomoe’s smooth forehead. Kaoru tumbled forward, Tomoe falling onto her back under her unconscious weight. The two women lay sprawled out atop one another on the cool grass. Kenshin walked around them, looking down and watching for movement.

A few moments later, Kaoru raised herself onto her elbows, still hovering above Tomoe’s still body. He watched her breathe in deeply and allowed her a minute to collect herself. 

“Let’s go,” Kenshin ordered curtly, sheathing his sword with a definite click and turning away. Then, suddenly, with a swift rush of wind, he was leaping through the air. Twisting mid-jump, he landed across the grove facing Kaoru and the fallen woman. Kaoru was leaning in a crouch, her arm still extended and her hand still gripping the bloody dagger than she had swung at him unexpectedly.

“Kaoru,” he exhaled, shock registering plainly in his wide eyes. His gaze flicked quickly to the woman who lay up-turned behind Kaoru, unseeing eyes staring up at the sky and throat slashed.

“Don’t speak my name,” Kaoru growled, rising slowly with her face bowed.

“The woman,” Kenshin breathed, eyes flicking to examine Kaoru, “Kaoru, the woman is dead. You killed her.”

“She wanted to die.” The empath’s voice was cold. “I want to die.”

“You-”

“But,” her head whipped up, blue eyes blazing, “Not until after killing you!”

She lunged at Kenshin, the dagger she had pulled from Tomoe’s kimono held high. Kenshin spun, knocking her wrist away. Kaoru whirled, swinging the dagger viciously.

“Stop it,” he growled, “Snap out of it!”

“Not until you are free,” she snarled back, jabbing at him ferociously.

“You are not yourself!” he shouted at her, knocking her frenzied attacks away with his sheathed sword.

“I am never myself!” She shrieked wildly, tears flying from her crystalline eyes.

Kenshin paused slightly, struggling to understand her cries. What had that woman shown her? It didn’t seem to only be a re-enactment of Tomoe Kiyosato’s most recent emotions.

He didn’t have time to ponder the thought as Kaoru lashed out violently again. In fact, he had been so distracted that he had pulled back a micro second too late. The tip of the bloodied blade grazed his left cheek, ripping another line in his smooth facial skin. As Kaoru sought to take off his head yet again, he dropped into a crouch and whipped his leg out, sweeping her off her feet. She landed on her back, the breath knocked from her and the knife dropping from her fingers. Not wasting a moment, Kenshin pinned her wrists to the damp earth.

“What is happening to you?” he demanded.

“You’re bleeding,” Kaoru noted caustically.

“What,” Kenshin repeated, emphasizing each word, “is happening to you?” Droplets of thick blood from his new cross scar fell to Kaoru’s cheeks.

“Get off!” Kaoru bucked suddenly beneath him, writhing frantically.

“What did that woman show you?” Kenshin grit out, fighting to keep her down.

She stilled suddenly, her eyes clearing. “A mission.”

“What?” he asked incredulously.

She turned her face upward, tears slipping from her eyes. “We are trapped like this. To die is to be free.”

“Death is not freedom,” he replied gravely, “It is only the end.” 

“I want to end this. For you. For me.”

“Not by death.” Kenshin shook his head. “Don’t cheat yourself. Tomoe Kiyosato could find nothing else to live for. That’s why she wanted to die. You,” he paused, his voice becoming soft, “You cannot end your own life. What would that accomplish? Nothing!”

Kenshin let the girl rip her wrists free from his loosened grip as she threw her arms around his shoulders and sobbed into his neck. He pulled her into his chest, rocking her softly and smoothing the rumpled silk on her back.

She cried, mumbling incoherent apologies into his skin.

“We must leave.”

Kaoru was standing above the two lovers, a handful of petals in her fist. At Kaoru’s insistence, they had moved the two bodies, laying them side by side. Kenshin stood behind her, anxious to leave.

Kaoru bowed to the dead, her eyes moist. Extending her arm, she opened her fist and let the petals shower slowly onto their bodies.

And then assassin and empath were rushing hurriedly toward Katsura’s complex, anxious to be out of suspicious locations.

“It is done?”

“Yes sir.”

Katsura sighed. “So the woman is dead too?”

“She wanted to be.”

“Very well,” Katsura replied with a nod. He looked past Kenshin at the girl huddled in the corner. “And Kamiya-san?”

“She is untouched.”

“However,” Katsura noted, “You are not.”

Kenshin stiffened as Katsura eyed the still dripping cross scar.

“Was he such a good swordsman, Himura?”

“No,” came Kenshin’s low answer, “Just desperate.”

“It must have been quite the traumatic battle.” He took a step toward Kaoru. “Take her to her room. And no,” he turned to answer Kenshin’s questioning eyes, “You will not be staying with her.” He held up a hand to stop his protest. “Ikumatsu will stay with Kaoru. That is my decision.”

Kenshin bit his lip and pulled Kaoru to her feet, leading her from the room. They walked side by side down the hall.

“Will you be fine?”

She turned to gawk at his stoic profile. “I’m sorry?”

“Will you be fine?”

“Did you just-”

“Obviously you are not since you can’t comprehend the simplest of-”

“I’m fine!” she interrupted, “I’m just surprised. This afternoon you were hardly speaking to me. This evening you kissed me. Now you’re asking me how I am?”

Kenshin nearly rolled his eyes. They stopped before the shoji door to the room Ikumatsu and Kaoru would share for the night. He reached into his belt and pulled the short sword out, holding it out to her.

“Take it.”

“I’m not touching that filthy thing,” Kaoru huffed, pushing the short sword away from her.

“Just take it,” Kenshin ordered, shoving the weapon into her chest.

“Why?”

“There’s something not right.”

“Is this assassin’s intuition or something?”

“You seem to have regained your sense of humour rather quickly.”

“I’m not going to take that.”

“Take it,” Kenshin commanded. He shrugged his outer cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around Kaoru, pulling her forward by the edges of the dark cloth. “Because I want you to.” He tucked the short sword within the folds of the cloak.

Now, Kaoru rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever.” She paused, then squinted up at the scars that marred his cheek.

Kenshin caught her gaze and the hand that had wandered toward the wound. Pressing her fingers to his lips, he whispered, “Don’t dwell on it.”

“You know,” she mused aloud as he pressed his forehead to hers, “The scar suits you – in some weird way.”

“Is that so?” He cupped the nape of her neck and pulled her forward, nosing forward and pressing his lips chastely to hers, lingering only for a moment. “Remember,” he breathed, “You belong to me.” He released her suddenly, turned and strode away.

Kaoru inhaled deeply, her fingers rising unconsciously to touch her lips. She sighed and turned to slide the door open. She crept quietly into the dark room, noting Ikumatsu’s already sleeping form. Sleep would come easily tonight. Strange, she wondered briefly before drifting away, how grisly deaths were becoming part of a macabre routine.

Kenshin sat in the windowsill, a hand firmly pressing a pad of gauze to his wounded cheek. His sword lay propped against his shoulder, always near. The sky had clouded over almost immediately after the fireworks – how fortunate for the host. Kenshin stared at the dark clouds that obscured the brightness of the stars.

Kaoru had tried to kill him.

Kenshin pulled the gauze away from his cheek and stared at the perfect, red ‘X’.

Kaoru had tried to kill him and, he suspected, it had been in earnest for a while. From what he could gather, she had assumed Tomoe Kiyosato’s rage and sorrow, as well as the view that it would be better to die by the hand of a loved one that to die as an assassin in the streets. He could only guess, but he speculated that Kaoru had been trying to set him free from his duty as a shadow killer – though in a twisted, murderous sort of way.

He tossed the gauze away, turning to stare at his faint reflection in the window. What Kaoru had said was true. Curiously, the cross scar seemed to complete his features. Odd, but true.

At least, he thought ruefully, people were less likely to mistake him for a girl.

It was hard to swallow. Without opening her eyes, she knew that it was not even close to sunrise. But, all of a sudden, Kaoru was somehow wide awake.  Her heart began to pound. It felt as if she were waking from a nightmare, the fear squeezing at her heart with cold, stony fingers. Her own numb fingers inched across the futon toward the short sword that lay under Kenshin’s cloak. As her fingers closed around its sheath, she heard it: the gentle sound of someone breathing, breathing close.

On instinct, Kaoru whipped the sword from its hiding place into a block position. In the next heartbeat, she was staring past a dagger into the eyes of an attacker. The assailant was straddling her, grinding the blade forward and trying to push the dagger home. Kaoru struggled, trying to hold the sheathed sword steady against the onslaught. Desperate to end the slow but steady advance of the dagger, she twisted sideways and jabbed the butt of the sword into her enemy’s gut. Her opponent’s dagger embedded itself into her futon as Kaoru rolled out from under the imprisoning legs. She rolled into crouch, the sword held out defensively.

“Who are you?” she whispered hoarsely.

The feminine form of her attacker stood, brandishing the short blade. “Surely, you know, Kamiya-san.”

Kaoru’s eyes blinked wider as she stuttered, “Ikumatsu?”

The escort bowed slightly. “Forgive me. This is my duty.”

Ikumatsu flew at Kaoru, thrusting and jabbing with the long dagger. Kaoru wove in tight circles, swiftly knocking away each stab. They staggered around the room, only inches away from each other. As they twisted and turned in the deadly dance, their footfalls were calculated and soft on the hardwood floors.

“Why don’t you draw your sword?” Ikumatsu’s voice was serene despite their tight combat.

“I don’t want to,” Kaoru gasped, still deep in concentration. This fight seemed a little too much like her previous fight with Kenshin, she thought wryly between pants.

“You will die if you do not.”

Ikumatsu wheeled suddenly, striking at Kaoru’s jugular. Kaoru bowed backward to avoid the swipe. The tip of the razor blade, however, grazed the skin of her neck, drawing out a thin line of blood. She staggered backward, clutching at the minor injury that had almost been life threatening. Ikumatsu straightened, her now plainly muscular form visible in the light of the window behind her.

“Please draw your weapon, Kamiya-san.” Ikumatsu’s voice hardened.

“I won’t!” Kaoru bit out.

Behind her, the shoji door slid open with a sharp snap.

“What is going on here?” Katsura’s robust voice filled the room. Beside him, Kenshin stood with his sword gleaming at his side.

Ikumatsu stiffened and inclined her head. “Katsura-san, Himura-san.”

Kenshin took a threatening step into the room. “Who are you really?”

Again Ikumatsu bowed, her knuckles white on the hilt of her dagger. “I am obliged not to tell you.”

As Kenshin was about to bark another demand, Ikumatsu suddenly plunged her dagger into her right side. Her eyes tightly closed and her teeth biting through her lower lip, she ripped the blade across her abdomen, twisting upward at the last instant. Ikumatsu fell to her knees, her eyes snapping open in an anguished plea. In a flash, Battousai was at her side, his sword cleanly beheading her.

Her feet frozen to the floor, Kaoru bit down on her knuckles, fighting back a scream as she watched Ikumatsu’s beautiful head roll and her body crumple to the floor. Kenshin flicked his sword clean of blood and sheathed it quickly. Without looking down, he strode to Kaoru and pulled her stiff body into his arms. As he pressed her head to his chest, her eyes were still wide with horror.  

“Hara-Kiri,” Katsura said, “Ritualized suicide.”

“Yes, sir.”

Katsura sighed. Walking over to the body, he pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and picked up the bloody dagger. He carefully wiped the handle clean, leaving the blade bloody. Then he jabbed at the window with the butt of the dagger, shattering the glass. He sighed again and dropped the dagger on the floor.

“This is another messy situation.” He grumbled in yet another sigh.

“Who do you think she was working for?” Kenshin asked, still trying to massage warmth back into Kaoru’s rigid muscles.

“Most probably Bakufu. Although it could be anyone.” Katsura frowned. “I think, however, it is unlikely that she was able to transmit any information at all.”

“What should we do?”

“You and Kamiya must leave immediately. I will cover this.”

“And when we get back?”

“Stay low and out of everyone’s attention.” Katsura stood over the corpse, staring down at the face that was still beautiful in death. “Such a pity. Now,” he commanded, looking up, “Leave. Quickly.”

“And so,” Katsura gestured to his host, Ieyasu Tokugawa, “That is how we found them. I have no idea who could have done this terrible thing.” 

Tokugawa strode to the window, thoughtfully eyeing the shattered glass. “I see. So, when you came to the room, a man had already killed this one woman and was assaulting the other. Then, he fled through this window.”

“That is what happened. My colleague has already brought the other woman to the city, to be treated at the hospital.”

“You might have waited. I do have a doctor on staff here.”

“Perhaps,” Katsura shrugged slightly, “But then, I did not think you would have one. After all, the security must have been lax enough that a murderer was able to get into this complex.”

Tokugawa ignored the barb, choosing instead to stare at the decapitated head. His eyes traveled from the stony eyes to the refined nose to the plump lips. A thin trail of blood tracked down the chin from the lower lip. Noting that one pearl tooth was coated in blood, he presumed she had bitten straight through.

“Sir,” came the snide voice of his aid, Kazuma Ishigawa, “Would you tell us the name of this other woman? Perhaps we can send her a gift to apologize for our apparent lack of security.”

Katsura frowned. “I do not know her name. She was my colleague’s escort.”

“Then,” Ishigawa asked, his politeness an obvious pretense, “Give us the name of your colleague. Or is this a mystery to you as well? In any case, I am sure the other guests would know his name.”

Smiling dangerously, Katsura answered curtly, “Kenshin Himura.”

“I am not familiar with that name.”

“Of course not.” Katsura turned to his host. “Now, if you will please excuse me. I wish to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Tokugawa faced the back of his departing guest. “By the way, did you know that there was another murder today?”

Katsura stopped in the doorway.

“A man by the name of Akira Kiyosato was murdered in the cherry tree grove,” Tokugawa continued, “Do you know anything about it?”

Katsura turned slightly. “Of course not.”

As the door slid shut and his footsteps faded down the hall, Ishigawa voiced his misgivings.

“I don’t trust a word he says.”

“Of course you shouldn’t,” Tokugawa replied, “Everything around us is a lie.”

“What do you think really happened here?”

Tokugawa stared down at the open gash in Ikumatsu’s belly. “Hara Kiri,” He said simply, “She killed herself in the old, honourable way.”

Ishigawa nodded. “Ikumatsu failed. She was discovered. But,” he thought aloud, “Who completed it for her? Who beheaded her?”

“I am not sure. It could be that man, Himura. It could be the real shadow assassin who killed Akira. Only a swordsman would know to do it.”

“She wasn’t even able to communicate the information.”

“A pity.”

“Can we use this against Choshu?”

“Not without calling my security into question,” Tokugawa laughed bitterly, “Katsura knows this game as well as I do. But I think he’s winning.”

“Do you think he knows we sent Ikumatsu?”

“He might suspect,” the rounder man shrugged, “But what can he prove?”

“We still no closer to discovering who their shadow killer is.” Ishigawa swore colourfully.

“But we are,” Tokugawa explained as he picked up the dagger, cleaned it off and tucked it into his sleeve, “Send a spy.”

“To whom?”

“Kenshin Himura of course,” Tokugawa replied, “We might find out something through him. And get all the information about that other girl, his escort. I have a feeling that Katsura is hiding something with regard to her.”

“Right away, sir. Whom should I send?”

“The best spy we have.”

When Kaoru and Kenshin stepped into the apartment, the lights were on and, once again, someone was waiting for them.

“I’m not here to poison you. Yet.”

“What are you doing here then?” Kenshin demanded, slamming the door behind him.

Kaoru simply stared, shock written all over her face. “Megumi-san?”

“Hello raccoon-girl,” Megumi smiled, “Have you forgiven me yet?”

Kaoru resisted the urge to stick her tongue out. The woman knew her too well. “What are you doing here, Megumi-san?”

“I’m here to give you medical attention of sorts,” she answered, flipping her hair over one shoulder and lifting a box onto the coffee table, “Come sit down.”

Kaoru complied, sitting beside Megumi on the couch as a younger sister might. “What do you mean?”

“It’s time for a shot, my dear.”

“What kind of shot?” Kaoru asked inquisitively.

“A very special one,” Megumi evaded her question as she dabbed at Kaoru’s upper arm with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic.

“What kind of shot?” Kenshin demanded, standing over them.

“Let it be recorded,” Megumi stated sardonically as she flicked at a syringe, “That I am against this. It’s all Katsura’s doing.”

“What shot?” Kenshin demanded again.

“Medroxyprogesterone.”

“What the hell is that?” His patience was quickly dwindling.

Megumi held up Kaoru’s arm. “Also known as Depo-Provera.” She quickly inserted the needle tip and then pulled it out. “All done, Kaoru.”

“And what,” Kenshin grit out, “Is that?”

Megumi turned to look at him over the back of the sofa. “The birth control injection.”

“What?” Both Kaoru and Kenshin exclaimed at once.

Megumi held up her hands. “Again, may I remind you that this was not my idea.”

“Gad,” Kaoru muttered, crossing her arms and looking down to hide a blush, “Old man Katsura thinks of everything, doesn’t he.”

“You need this shot every three months, raccoon girl,” Megumi explained. “Although I am sure,” she tilted Kaoru’s face up by the chin, “You will not be stupid.”

“Megumi-san!”

“Good.” She turned to stare down Kenshin. “Remember, I’ve got a special mix of poisonous chemicals just for you.”

Kenshin quickly masked his stunned expression beneath a scowl. Megumi did not wait for the two childish adults to recover. She picked up her kit and headed for the door. “Take care, Kaoru,” she called over her shoulder, “And I mean it.” The door swung shut behind her.

Kenshin could hear Kaoru’s heavy breathing from where he stood. She was painfully embarrassed.

“I’ll go make dinner,” he announced, stalking to the kitchen.

Night came slowly as time always passes at a snail's pace in awkward situations. But when the time to sleep finally came, Kaoru was ready for it. She sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, wearing a tank top and shorts, reflecting over the events of the day. A crisp knock sounded at the bedroom door.

“Kaoru?”

Kaoru bit her lip. “Yes?”

The red-haired man pushed the door open and stepped in hesitantly. “May I speak to you?”

“You’re so formal all of a sudden,” she half-smiled.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the edge. “Are you uncomfortable with me?”

“Right now,” she admitted, looking down.

“And why is that?” he asked quietly, taking a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger.

“Because,” she looked up at the ceiling, her eyes wandering over the stipple, “It feels…” Her words trailed off as he slid his fingers down the length of her hair. “It feels so planned.”

“Does it feel fake?”

“What is ‘it’?” Kaoru asked, still staring at the ceiling.

Kenshin placed a rough finger on her cheek and drew her gaze to him gently. “This is ‘it’,” he responded softly, leaning in to touch his lips to her chin.

Kaoru exhaled softly, letting his hot breath wash over her neck. “No,” she breathed, “This doesn’t feel fake,” she paused, “But the birth control, the escort thing at the manor, the incident at the tea house the other day – they all feel so contrived. So manufactured.”

“I’d call them fortuitous circumstances,” the man replied as he began to plant moist kisses on her jaw line.

Kaoru inhaled and brought her long fingers up to cup his face between her hands. She pressed her nose to his and stared into his unblinking amber eyes. “Do you love me?”

There was a pregnant pause. “That emotion-”

“Not just the emotion.” Kaoru shook her head so that her bangs brushed his cheeks.

“What then?”

“I don’t actually know.”

Kenshin smirked. “I want to protect you.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I want to be near you.” He placed his other hand on her waist. “I want to touch you.” His fingers gently teased the strap from her shoulder. “I don’t want anyone else to touch you.” The fingers of his other hand dug into her side. “I want you to think of me, to desire me.” He drew his tongue over her lower lip. “Is that what you want to know?”

“What is it about me that you-”

“Oh Kaoru,” he said, shaking his head at her, “It’s everything. Everything about you.”

She dipped her head and smiled, still clutching at the sides of his head. When she looked up, he could see a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes. She kissed the tip of his nose softly and he snorted, clearly not impressed. She chimed a quiet laugh and pressed her lips to the underside of his chin. Shyly, she parted her lips and let her tongue graze the skin of his neck. At his harsh intake of breath, she drew back, startled. He was staring at her, his eyes narrowed – but not in anger. He crawled closer and, on his knees above her, he took her face in his hands and kissed her, his lips moving heatedly against hers. She complied, sliding her palms up his sinewy arms. Slowly, with one arm looped around her waist, he lowered her onto her back. Panting softly, she let him sink his hips to hers as their kiss deepened in passion and intensity. His lips moved to her neck as he began to shift and rub against her.  

Looking up, Kaoru saw the light bearing down on her. The ceiling seemed too close and the lights too bright. She swallowed, her heart suddenly pounding painfully. She began to fight for breath.

Kenshin began to nip at her collarbone, his deft fingers tugging at her shirt. Her eyes went wide and her knuckles white. A thumb brushed over her nipple and her vision went grey.

Kaoru suddenly pushed Kenshin away and rolled off the bed, breaking into a run toward the bathroom. Collapsing in front of the toilet, she vomited violently.

She heard him approach and turned her face the other way, ashamed and embarrassed. The cool of his fingers on the nape of her neck surprised her and she looked up to see a tall glass of water being held out to her. Tears obscured her vision as she reached out haltingly. He helped her hold the glass to her lips and drink, pushing the rancid, sour taste back down her throat. He ran his fingers through her hair, wiping the corners of her mouth with a damp cloth.

She looked up, her eyes squinting at the bright lights above. Her body convulsed as she retched again, her chest twisting as her body recalled other bright lights.

The fluorescent lights seemed to move with her as her body was pounded by another. Dirty rasped words were whispered into her ear but her face remained stonily impassive, her glazed eyes to the ceiling. Raucous chortles met her ears as a new body entered hers. But she did not look to see which one was now panting lustfully at her neck. Her eyes were on the ceiling, tracing the pattern of the smoke and water stains. As she was being ripped and torn, she let her pupils be seared by the bright, inhuman lights above.

She was still throwing up, the sour taste now mingled with the salt of her sobs.

They were laughing. Chortling, chuckling, sniggering, sneering as her center was torn, ripped, mutilated and defiled. She bit through her lower lip, tasting the blood. Her eyes still fastened to the familiar patterns on the ceiling, she noted that the table felt cold to her back and that her toes were loosing feeling and that the tips of her fingers were bleeding from digging her fingernails under her other fingernails.

Kenshin watched her face crumple into more tears as she pulled back from the toilet bowl. She stood unsteadily and reached for the tap, splashing cold water on her face and rinsing her mouth. He stood beside her, holding out a face towel. Kaoru looked at the towel and then to his face, searching. Her breath quickened as she broke into more sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she cried brokenly, falling into his arms, “I am so sorry.”

He enveloped her in his arms and silently pulled her as close as possible. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said quietly,

“But I-” she choked out, her body shuddering against his.

“It is not your fault,” he interrupted fiercely, “None of this is your fault!”

Her legs gave out beneath her but before she could sink to the floor, he lifted her up, carrying her to bed. When she had finally cried herself to sleep, he bundled her in blankets and watched her body rise and fall in sleep. Kenshin fought down the fury mounting in his gut. He struggled to regulate his angry breathing and strode out into the living room to execute some sword exercises. He wanted nothing more than to destroy them, although he did not know who they were. It would drive him mad.  

The next morning was, yet again, awkward. Kaoru had arisen to find Kenshin dressed and waiting in his armchair. She sat in the sofa and stared, shifting uncomfortably. Did he think he think her less of a woman because of the night before? She looked down, her heart sinking. She heard the assassin, whom she had come to treasure, rise from his seat.

“Come.” His voice was low and commanding.

“Where are we going?” She looked up suddenly.

In response, he tossed her school uniform onto her lap. “Did you forget what day of the week it is?”

“To school?” Kaoru creased her brows.

“Shall we,” he cocked his head to one side, “Be normal for a day?”

“But I thought Kastura-san said to stay low-”

“Precisely,” Kenshin said, a slight twitch of the lips resembling a smile gracing his features, “And so we are keeping to routine and going to school once a week, just as he said.” He held out a calloused hand. “You wouldn’t want the authorities at your school to suspect something because you were not present on the appointed day, would you?”

Kaoru smiled, her genuine joy lighting up her face. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up. Swinging around by his arm, she broke out into a sparkling laugh. “Do you ever listen to yourself? Authorities at your school,” she imitated his serious tone, “on the appointed day… Who on earth taught you to talk?”

The corners of Kenshin’s lips twitched higher as he looped an arm around her waist and spun her around the room. “Is it so easy to lighten your mood?”

Kaoru threw her head back and laughed as the room spun around her. “You see what I mean?”

What you mean? The man-slayer’s intense eyes softened as he whirled his personal, laughing radiant enigma around the apartment. You mean that I am happy when you are happy. That I am angry when you are sad. That if I am to kill you, I will be alone.

Kaoru planted a loud kiss on his scarred cheek and bounced off to change.

I do not want to be alone.

His fingers lingered on hers as she danced away, trying to catch some of her life. Watching her, he pressed his palm to the cross scar, where she had kissed him.

But it might not be for me to decide.