[FFML] [fic][rk][cont] Rurouni Yahiko Chapter 7: Shinobi Tales

[Abdiel]

Just outside of the Kamiya Dojo's front gates...

She watched the wind stir his unkempt hair as they approached, coat
flapping in the same wind. His shoes made their way deftly along the
ground towards the wooden entrance, the same way they had not so long
ago. She averted her eyes away from his as he idly glanced towards her
direction, though she knew fully well that _he_ knew she was looking.
Her cheeks burned at the thought. All the same, they'd made it to their
intended destination and were now declaring their presence to the
respective homeowners care of several polite knocks on the dojo gates. 

Misao Makimachi sat under the shade of a large tree; she enjoyed looking
at the wonders of nature, especially Aoshi Shinomori. _With_ 'Aoshi-
sama', Shinobi Genius, Leader Emeritus of the Onibanwanshu, and Lord of
Bishonen Cool, she corrected herself, though a competent argument could
be made about him being a wonder of nature all his own. She shook her
head, did a mental equivalent of a communal cough, squirreled away her
girlish thoughts, and focused on the situation at hand.

Misao flexed her arms and thought seriously for a moment. Nobody was
trying to answer any of Aoshi's knocks on the Kamiya Dojo's gates, and
she was a bit worried of the fact. 'Has something happened inside? I
hope that everybody's all right.'

In frustration, Misao struck a nearby tree with a backhanded slap. It
quivered slightly from the blow, forcing several of its leaves from the
branches to fall directly on top of the girl's head. Aggravated even
further, Misao swatted at the leaves out of her hair, then noticed
Aoshi's small smile.

"It's not _that_ funny!" Misao protested, her face flushed with an
enraged, burgundy color before further disclaiming, "I'm NOT a prop
comic!" despite the fact that, six years ago, she acted just like one in
a rather lame attempt to cheer Aoshi up after his second defeat against
Kenshin Himura: She possessed a short, selective memory, y'see.

"I always thought that the 'leaf on the head' shtick was reserved for
raccoon girls, not weasel girls," was something uncharacteristic for
Aoshi to verbalize. Sanosuke might quip that, Yahiko could _definitely_
say that, Kenshin might tactlessly make that kind of thoughtless remark,
Saito could probably come up with something nastier, but Aoshi? Not a
chance. Still, that knowing, blink-and-you'll-miss-it flash of grin on
his face said it all.

Misao felt her aggravation rise to the point where she couldn't take it;
that small crease of a smile that seemed to mock and punish her. Misao
unthinkingly grabbed one of her kunai and threw it right at Aoshi. The
Onibanwanshu Leader caught the small dagger in between his thumb and
index finger with practiced ease.

"You have a strong throw, excellent aim, and proper technique," Aoshi
appraised as his face returned to its default, expressionless form, "but
you transmit your intentions far too easily. Kunai are best thrown
subtly." To emphasize his point, Aoshi's hand twitched slightly; a
fraction of a second later, Misao felt a small breeze next to her head
and saw the kunai stuck in the tree trunk a good two inches away from
her face. The proximity of the throw almost freaked the weasel girl out.

"AAAHHH!" Actually, it _completely_ freaked the weasel girl out; Misao
screamed in surprise and jumped a few feet away from her sitting
position, accidentally grabbing Aoshi in what could be construed as a
'romantic' embrace. She then glared/gazed at the tall, azure-eyed,
roguish man with equal parts of indignation and timidity.

He looked down at her, his face filled with a flat, perplexing emotion,
and time seemed to stop as she stared up into his eyes. They were such
wide, mysterious eyes, as endless as the sky itself. He was looking at
her the same way he had when they first met, and the same way he had
been looking at her every minute since; with a flat, impenetrable
stare.

Aoshi stood at the crest of the road with a listless yet slightly
perturbed look on his handsome face; it was as if he was trying to
figure something out. That made Misao feel a little sad: Aoshi was
slightly less adorable when he was worried. Or livid. Or melancholic.
Perhaps he was feeling a bit jaded? It was hard to tell. Whatever the
case, the difference was negligible, and the cute little wrinkle on his
forehead almost made up for it, but all in all she preferred his flat,
happy face instead of his flat, sad face... even though she couldn't
tell which look was which most of the time.

Aoshi saw the flinch of worry in Misao's features and did what was
previously thought impossible--he faintly smiled. The transformation
was undeniable; there was something in that mirthful 'almost-smile'
that quivered in the shadows behind his usual steely veneer that made
the weasel girl's heart flutter. She couldn't decide what it was, but
she knew what she thought it might be. The funny thing was, she couldn't
decide if the idea made her terrified, or excited. Possibly both.

Rich, but sharp black locks and liquid blue eyes, a whisper of a smile
that one just couldn't forget, and a body that didn't quit: Yes, Aoshi
Shinomori was a sight for sore eyes... and even not-sore-at-all eyes. As
such, Misao's not-so-sore-you-know-what traveled all over the Okashira's
person, her brows mildly knotted in concentration as she closely
observed the marble statue of a man in front of her, down to every last
detail. Indeed, this unwieldy yet intense moment could have gone on
forever had the weasel girl not an iota of resentment and/or shame left
in her. "I-I know that I've been trying to make you laugh since forever,
Aoshi-sama, but I do _not_ wish for it to be at my expense!" she
sputtered.

Aoshi, though, ignored Misao's protests as he, much to her suppressed
chagrin, let her go, and promptly returned to knocking on the Kamiya
Dojo's front gates. "We have important business to attend to here in
the Kamiya Residence. It'd be best if we could get this meeting over
with as soon as possible, so that we can finally be on our way," he
offhandedly explicated. 
 
Misao felt insulted yet again by Aoshi's routine callousness and
demanded, "Why is that?"

"The winds have shifted, and there's a faint scent of blood in the air,"
Aoshi sighed. "Even though it's been nearly a decade since I last heard
from them, I did not expect the Sanada Ninja Clan to still be active and
growing after all these years." The Onibawanshu Leader closed his azure
eyes contemplatively. "And it seems that they're now involved in matters
of great consequence, which is why we need to further investigate their
current activities as soon as possible."

"Sanada Ninja Clan? They must be one of those secret organizations, 'coz
I've never heard of them," Misao confessed, pouting thoughtfully.

"I haven't either," Kenshin revealed after his carrot-topped head
abruptly popped out of the now-slightly ajar wooden gates like a curious
gopher. "Hello, Misao-dono. Aoshi-dono. It's been a long time."

"It's good to see you again, Battousai," Aoshi formally greeted as he
regarded Kenshin with a curt bow and a clinical glance. "How's your
health?" 

"It's gotten better," Kenshin distantly answered, unconsciously darting
his eyes away from Aoshi's before altogether settling down on the taller
man's outfit. The erstwhile ninja leader still wore his trademark trench
coat that hid his 'spy gear' quite well, but even then Kenshin could not
see his twin kodachi in their usual false nodachi sheath.

"You're armed, right? I can sense it, but you aren't carrying your
weapons like you usually do." Kenshin looked at Aoshi with a careful eye
but could not see where the two short swords were.

"I'm carrying them in separate sheathes," Aoshi explained. "One on the
right, one on the left. In normal clothes, it is easier to carry them
like this."

"Oh I see," Kenshin responded appreciatively. "Is there any particular
reason why you've come here in full yet hidden battle regalia? And what
does this all have to do with the 'Sanada Ninja Clan'?"

Aoshi civilly nodded, not really answering any of Kenshin's questions
with his affirmative gesture. "Everything will be explained in due time,
Battousai. We, the representatives of Onibanwanshu, have visited you in
concern of Myoujin Yahiko's last duel here in Tokyo."


________________________________________________________________________


Rurouni Yahiko
A Rurouni Kenshin continuation fic
By Chester Castañeda
chester.castaneda at gmail.com
http://www.fanfiction.net/~abdiel
http://abdiel.florestica.com/

And now for something different; a meeting of the minds care of the
Himuras and the Onibanwanshu.

________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 7: Shinobi Tales
________________________________________________________________________



A month ago, in Shinshushin, Kamiminochi District, Nagano Prefecture,
Japan...

To be even _more_ specific, in the dead end inside the woods near the
marketplace in between the towns of Suwa (where the Higashidanis live)
and Nojiri (where the Sakaguchis work and Raikoujis live)...

Something was wrong.

Yahiko could feel it; a twisting, nervous sensation in his gut, a
premonition almost. It wasn't the same other-sense that he used as a
swordsman, the sense he'd developed that forewarned him of a sneak
attack or an opponent's moves during battle. It was more of a....

Damn. He couldn't put his finger on it. It was... a vague sense of
foreboding. A suspicion that something was seriously out of place. A
feeling like, any moment now, the world would turn itself inside out.

Or perhaps it was just the disgusted feeling Yahiko got from sucking
on the salty, fishy taste of, well, _fish_ that left him so... so...
discombobulated. Yeah, that was probably it. Or maybe he was just
exhausted: Whether it was fatigue from the previous night's battle or
massive internal bleeding, Yahiko couldn't tell, but he felt tired,
weak, frail, and otherwise kaput.  

He spat the fish out, gagged a bit, and then opened his eyes. Ten
thousand bats looked curiously back at him. To say there was an awkward
pause would have been a grand understatement.

Yahiko closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then took stock of the
situation. He seemed to be alive. From the motion he could feel, he 
was either floating down on some sort of boat, or he was feeling very,
very nauseated with lightheadedness, probably caused by the cramped,
tight space his head was currently stuck in; he guessed it was the
latter reason rather than the former.

What else? Oh, his mouth was saturated with the taste of raw fish that
_wasn't_ sushi, sashimi, or pleasant. There were also hordes of fanged,
leathery bats hanging above his head, but he ultimately decided to
handle things one problem at a time. Anyway, he wanted to wipe the
sickening taste of cold-blooded aquatic vertebrate out of his tongue,
but his hands and arms were currently 'out of reach' at that point.

There was a lesson to be learned here. Next time Chizuru Raikouji
bullied Yahiko into doing something he didn't want to get involved with
in the first place, he would damn well tell her to shove her nose right
up her butt. Yep, he really thought that, because he was 'hardcore'. 

He blinked as something else occurred to him. It just so happened that
Chizuru's fool errand involved chasing after a certain man--a big,
bulky, hairy, gluttonous, and thuggish type of man, to be exact. "Gan?"
he cautiously whispered. "Minoe? Anyone?" He paused, rolled his eyes,
then tried again. "The 'Great' Gan? Soba King? The Round Mound of..."

"Right here, Mister Myoujin," a voice whispered back.

"Gan?"

"Uh, no."

A pause. He struggled to move his head towards the sound of the other
person's voice before letting out his barrage of name suggestions. "The
Great Gan? Soba King? Mister Muscle? Meat Bun Maniac? Man-Tits? Sperubin
Jorju? Yamada Taro? Nanashi-no-Gombee? Puringe Warutaru? The Paper?
Lizard King? Mister Mojo Risin? Isumisee Aran? Dozaemon?" 

"Er, I'm afraid I'm not any of those gentlemen, sir."

"Heh. I got a bit carried away there, huh?"

"Monchiron." The yet-unidentified man coughed primly. "Anyway, it's
Minoe, sir. Minoe Munenori. Remember me?" Ah, yes: It was the eye-
patched, pirate-like, ninja-like, weird, bizarre, slightly autistic, and
definitely effeminate young man with the garish getup and long front and
side bangs. Minoe was stuck at another junction of the crevice or crag
or whatever, just right beside Yahiko.

"Uh yeah. Very good." Yahiko looked up, and gulped. "There are a lot of
bats over us, huh?"

"Please don't remind me, sir," the eye-patched man implored as he
involuntarily shivered his timbers.

Yahiko gulped. "They're _looking_ at us, Minoe..."

"They sure are. Still, in the right light, I'd bet they'd look so cute!"
Minoe enthused, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder. "I mean, look
at the expression on the third one to the left... from this distance,
doesn't he look like a cuddly little vixen?"

"Um, do you mind, Minoe?" Yahiko hissed once the bats started to stir,
even the third, 'cuddly little vixen' one to the left; _especially_ the
third, 'cuddly little vixen' one to the left, ironically enough.

Minoe wasn't listening, though. "I'll call you kitsune-tan, and I'll
have you and I'll hug you and love you coz you're my kitsune-tan,
kitsune-tan!" the eye-patched man giggled.

Yahiko looked at Minoe oddly, almost worriedly, then quietly edged away,
or at least did the best that he could to do so given the situation.
Meanwhile, the third bat to the left shrieked happily in response to
Minoe's cooing and name-calling--either that or it was simply showing
how much it loved the possibility of chewing their noses right off their
faces.

"Well, well, well; look at what we have here," another voice boomed from
behind the immobilized Tokyo Samurai Descendant and his brigand for a
companion, which would mean that the owner of the aforesaid booming
voice was currently talking to their posteriors. "It's Yoshi-boy and
Patches, out to hunt me down. Well, I guess the tables have turned, eh?"
The arrogant, boisterous voice couldn't possibly be mistaken for anyone
else's.

"Gan," Yahiko seethed through grit teeth as he fiddled with the hilt of
his inheritance; Kenshin Himura's sakabatou.


***


Kenji Himura pouted a moue of consternation as he stared suspiciously at
his surrogate sister, part-time waitress at the Akabeko, and sometimes
personal letter-reader, Tsubame Sanjou. "You w'ead it diff'ently the
last time, big sista," he accused. "Just coz I can't w'ead yet doesn't
mean you can make stuff up when you w'eadin' things to me!"

Tsubame affectionately ruffled the young tot's red-orange hair as she 
patiently explained, "I'm sorry, but 'Our heads were stuck in holes in
the wall that led to a small cave full of bats, there was a fish in my
mouth, Minoe had taken a liking to one the flying rats above us, and the
Great Big Gan was talking to our butts,' is open to a surprising amount
of interpretations. Besides, don't you like it when I read you the story
of 'Momotaro the Peach Boy' in many different ways each night so that
you won't get bored of it?" 

Kenji groused adorably, his round, pinkish cheeks turning red in grumpy,
puerile annoyance before he relented, "Fine, but stop adding so many new 
things to the stowy! You ah makin' Gan sound like a know-it-all mowon,
Minoe sound like a gal, and big bwotha sound like... well, actually you
did good on big bwotha."

It was now Tsubame's turn to blush. "Really? That's so wonderful to hear,
Kenji-chan!" she beamed as she cheerfully took hold of the younger boy's
tiny hands and swung them from side to side in celebration. "I always
knew that Yahiko-chan and I have an extraordinary connection with each
other, but to understand him at such a deep level that I can portray his
mannerisms with frightening accuracy fills my heart with so much joy and
happiness! Our special bond transcends the boundaries of even distance,
space, and time! To think, it all started during the time when he saved
me from that vicious...!"

Kenji flailed his arms in irritation. "Focus, Tsubame-nee, FOCUS!" he
implored to the distracted Akabeko waitress, doing a rather convincing
impersonation of his mother and her usual pleadings whenever Tsubame's
mind wandered.

"Excuse me. My head is stuck up in the clouds again," Tsubame giggled
girlishly as she lightly bopped herself on the noggin and sheepishly
stuck her tongue out. 

"There you go again," Kenji drolly berated with a derisive snort. He
could add more to that... like, say, the fact that Yahiko didn't seem
so 'connected' with Tsubame during the time that Kyoko Sakaguchi helped
the injured Tokyo Samurai walk back into her mother's restaurant... but
that would be a bit too underhanded and downright mean for a mere six
year old to mention. Besides, no child ever wished for an early exit
out of the world they'd just recently awoken to.

Instead, the little boy opted to look over his parents' direction as
they greeted and entertained their guests, Aoshi Shinomori and Misao
Makimachi. "I wonda what Big Sista Misao and Uncle Aoshi ah doin'
he'e..."


***


Just then, Aoshi drifted in a dark sea somewhere below the reach of
consciousness, oblivious to the passage of time. He was in a strange
nether zone between dreaming and perspicuity, unwilling to move towards
awakening, strangely compelled to see his unexpected vision through to
the very end.

'The Great Okashira of the Onibanwanshu has one last mission to fulfill
before he becomes a petty innkeeper, eh? How pathetic,' something... or
someone... hissed mockingly into Aoshi's ear. 'To think, the fearsome
man who froze his heart and buried his emotions so long ago is actually
nothing but a scared little boy who was forced to shoulder a world of 
responsibility in exchange for his innocence and childhood! Knowing
this, I've finally found a way to break your mind and take my revenge
from beyond the grave, Shinomori Aoshi!'

When he heard the ominous whisper--one that sounded strangely like the
aged, cadaver-using, skull-masked puppet master he fought and killed in
what seemed to be a lifetime ago--Aoshi braced himself, but he was then
caught unawares by a sudden nauseating sensation that drove him to near
madness. 

Sometime later, as he slowly opened his eyes, he found himself staring
up at a blaze of darkness flaring high up in the nonsensically blood-red
heavens. 'What? Where am I?'

He sat up and gazed warily at his immediate environs; it had a still and
quiet ambiance to it. Then, for a short, appalling instant, he thought
that he had been roused into some bleak, infernal future--one in which
everyone he had known and cared for no longer existed. His future; a
place where only his most lurid of memories remained; his own personal
hell where nightmarish specters of regret from his past would continue
to haunt him to his dying breath.

Aoshi forced his racing mind to calm down and took another hard look at
his surroundings. He then realized that every individual thing he saw
was familiar... and yet he knew that in reality, such a place could not
possibly exist, because the things that surrounded him belonged to very
different places and even different time periods. 

There was a tree that he used to climb as a very young child; but that
tree had been destroyed in a thunderstorm many years ago. Patches of
lush forest sat directly adjacent with the interior rooms of expensive
homes he had visited. That little Kyoto food shop, one of Misao's
favorites, stood only a few yards away, squatting uneasily between an
Edo whorehouse and the front porch of a small inn that rightfully
resided many miles south of Osaka. But it was just the front porch and
nothing else. Perhaps that was because he had never entered the inn
itself. It was as if someone had taken all his memories, shaken them
together, then carelessly scattered them all over the landscape to
create a crazy hodgepodge maze of a world.

Then the truth gradually dawned on Aoshi. That was _exactly_ what all
these things were; his own memories given form and substance. He was
trapped within his own mind, now transformed into a mystifying and
portentous dreamscape. And looming above this ominous fantasy stood a
darkly glowing replica of Edo Castle. Staring at the fortress, Aoshi
wondered what sort of vicious mind game his splintered psyche was up to
this time.

Almost in response, the main gates of the castle flew open, liberating a
small pack of wild, shadowy beasts onto the dream city below. He
recognized them immediately: They too came from his mind. They were
three wolf-like monsters, spun from his darkest emotions and most
painful of memories: Guilt, hatred, shame, fear, betrayal, jealousy,
rage... parts of himself that he tried to deny for the sake of
necessity, or in some cases, the preservation of his own sanity. And
now, during his midlife crossroads of sorts, his mind had now set them
free so they could hunt him down, consume him, and ultimately destroy
him.

Aoshi was very much aware of his myriad of inner demons' sickening
presence, growing frustration, and rage at their inability to quickly
break what they considered a puny human to their will. Like scrabbling
claws, he could feel their insistent probing as his nightmares made
flesh searched his mind for weak spots to exploit.

Aoshi stealthily made his way through the alleyways of the impossible
Dream World before he heard the thud of approaching paws and quickly
flattened himself against a building. As he listened to the monsters'
cries of frustration as they angrily searched for their prey, he knew
that the grim game of hide-and-seek could not go on forever. While his
pursuers seemed to have difficulty tracking him through the cluttered
and random dreamscape, eventually the creatures would find him.

Since everything in this strange disjointed place was created from his
memory, every location and every item had the potential to trigger an
overwhelming cascade of memories which could leave him dangerously
vulnerable. It became a constant struggle to keep himself alert and
focused.

Most of the memories were harmless enough--recollections of long
forgotten meals, snatches of casual conversations, and many of the
little inconsequential things of life. But other memories were strong
enough to leave him gasping and barely able to stand--the first time
he felt another person's blood pouring over his hand and splattering
his face as he sliced their guts open, the searing moments of pain and
betrayal...  

And there were the dirty memories... the unspeakable ones....  

He desperately searched for his good memories; his happy place, his only
weapon against the shadow beasts; the state of mind where he could lose
himself in those moments of joy and contentment, however brief. But he
was oddly unsurprised to realize that those memories usually involved
Misao in some fashion. 'Even as a child, she meant so much to me. And
now--'

As he pressed himself back against the weathered boards of a warehouse
and waited for his beastly hunters to pass, Aoshi struggled to control
the memories of some nameless woman whom he had tracked down and killed
in that very building in Osaka over two decades ago.


***


As the two couples walked side-by-side whilst crossing the threshold of
the gates to view the rather large and well-kept patio of the Kamiya
Dojo, the meditative Okashira of the Oniwanbanwanshu turned his back on
the girls and unexpectedly sneezed in a loud, harsh, and brash fashion,
because that was the only way a real man should sneeze; appearances were
everything for a shinobi.

Kenshin wiped the large bead of sweat over his forehead and the slight
spray of saliva on his cross-scarred cheek as he absently asked, "Are
you coming down with a cold, Aoshi-dono?"

Aoshi gave Kenshin a pokerfaced yet nonetheless chilling look. "I'd
prefer it if you'd drop the 'dono' and call me by my name, Battousai.
Don't tell me that I'd have to fight you again just so you won't add
inane and superfluous honorifics after my name."

Although Aoshi spoke with a perfectly straight face, Kenshin thought he
caught a definite undercurrent of... wry humor?... in his voice. 'I
don't know what happened to him, but somehow... it's like something's
come to life inside him.'

To the others, Kenshin quietly noted, "Um, I'd prefer it if you didn't
call me Battousai and instead called me Kenshin--or at least Himura--but
I wouldn't _insist_ upon it," as he awkwardly scratched the back of his
head and shifted his weight to one side. Unfortunately for him, no one
was really listening to him at the time.

"That's _exactly_ what I've been telling him just a minute ago, Aoshi!"
Kaoru interposed eagerly as she took Kenshin's arm over her own and
pushed him aside. "Old habits may die hard, but the sooner my husband
acts his age, the better! I mean, c'mon... he's, like, a thirty-
something father of one now, so he should set a good example to our son.
His inane, obsessive-compulsive habits must stop!" 

Kenshin let his mouth hang open in shock for a bit; it was easier than 
resisting the muscles that want it to sag there. If he could sit on
the corner and draw circles on the dusty ground as he got ignored by
everybody, he would've--and he nearly did, come to think of it.

"Speaking of Kenji; how's the cute little bundle of energy and joy
doing, Kaoru-san?" Misao inquiringly inquired, her short, bobbed haircut
bouncing to the cadence of her own enthusiasm; even though she somewhat
missed her long ponytail of yore, her new haircut thankfully made her
look a bit more mature... or at least she thought so, anyway.

"Oh, he's doing great! I think we may be able to send him to preschool
one of these days; he learning so fast! I just hope he gets his R's
straightened out by the time he's seven," Kaoru enthused as she tilted
her head to the side and clasped her hands in a motherly fashion. "He
even learned a new word just now! Ah, just don't ask me which word..."

But Misao's eyebrows had, by then, furrowed together as she went on a
different--though somewhat related--tangent. "Since we're on the subject
of honorifics, is Kenji-chan still calling me 'big sista' and stuff?
Coz, darn it, I'm a grown woman already! He should call me 'auntie' or
something!"
 
"'Auntie', eh? First time I've ever heard a woman insist on being called
_that_. Could it be because...? With an impish grin, Kaoru leaned
forward and whispered something to Misao's ear. The pair then took a
quick glance at Aoshi, then Misao blushed and looked at the ground as
Kaoru smiled knowingly. They shared an interlude of hearty giggles
afterward.

A throat cleared itself.

To Aoshi's concealed relief, Kenshin's polite interruption caught the
two girls' attentions while derailing their respective trains of
thought. "Um, we're straying a bit from the topic." The thirty-something
ex-rurouni forced a toothy, dogged grin at everyone as he forthrightly
queried, "So what brings you here, Shinomori Aoshi? Misao-dono? I mean,
I haven't seen you two since our 'Spring Reunion Picnic' last, um,
spring."

Aoshi didn't start with a trite, "I thought you'd never ask!" cliche,
but by the tone of his voice, he might as well did. "I heard through the
grapevine that Myoujin Yahiko has fought a certain old ninja by the name
of Takae just last month. We actually came here to investigate the
circumstances surrounding the event. You'll take us inside your premises
so that we can take a look around, yes?" the Okashira ordered, not
requested.

"Well, that's some grapevine," Kaoru remarked with a mouthy pout, her
right eyebrow raised way up.

"But of course! Onibanwanshu Intelligence is one of the best in Japan,
let me tell you!" Misao proudly proffered the little factoid, barely
keeping herself from laughing a haughty, Megumi-like cackle. "That, and
we tend to sort through people's mail before it gets to them."

"HEY! No wonder our mails were frayed, crumpled, and easily torn once it
got here! It's all YOUR fault, you interloping snoops!" Kaoru acidly
snapped at a rather hangdog Misao as a large nerve pulsated on the side
of her forehead. 

"Oh, come on, Kaoru-san! We were just doing our job!" Misao whined
defensively, scowling like a petulant, stubborn Kenji Himura who wanted
to win some sort of vague, petty argument he'd taken a fancy to just for
the principle of it--or so Kaoru surmised, anyway. "It's not like we're
doing it for spite; it's nothing personal, just... ninja stuff, okay?!"

Without missing a beat and before the situation regressed any further,
Kenshin got in between the two quarrelling girls and again interposed,
"With all due respect, _Aoshi_, I'd like to know why you're hunting down
Takae Masahiro in the first place. Since you've read through our mail, I
think it's safe to assume that you're aware that Takae has already
passed away. So why exactly are you pursuing a dead man?"

"Yes, I am aware he's dead, and you've made a very good point," Aoshi
indistinctly assented as he smoothly made his way into the dojo proper,
greeting both Kenji and Tsubame with a curt nod as he passed them by;
the two children waved weakly at the tall, fierce-looking man, feeling
slightly intimidated by his imposing presence. "Takae is just a small
piece of a much larger puzzle. This mission has more to do with his
affiliations to the Sanada Clan than with himself."

Kenji was about to pipe up with some sort of inquisitive, socially
awkward remark when Tsubame wordlessly hushed the kid by grabbing hold
of his mouth and pulling him into the living room, closing the sliding
door behind them with the balls of her socked feet. 'Not now, the adults
are talking,' was very a familiar admonishment for the young boy to
hear, so out of respect for his common sense, short fuse, and self-
perceived righteous indignation concerning the oft-repeated reproach,
his 'surrogate sister' didn't even bother telling him that. 

Meanwhile, Kenshin rubbed his chin contemplatively as he, a slightly
miffed Kaoru, and a mutely upset Misao followed the Onibanwanshu Boss
inside the Kamiya Dojo's training room: Aoshi had visited their home
once or twice before, so he knew his way around, much to Kaoru's growing
chagrin. Nevertheless, due to the mitigating circumstances surrounding
the meeting, the Kamiya Matriarch forced herself to keep her cool as she
demanded, "Getting back to the point, I fail to see what this mission of
yours has to do with any of _us_ here."

"In a word: None. Rest assured that your family isn't really involved
in any of this. If anything, you all have but a tenuous connection to
Takae Masahiro, so worry not. Still," Aoshi shifted, nigh-flinched, as
he uncomfortably adjusted his trench coat's collar as though it were a
hangman's noose around his neck, "Takae's elite ninja group from the
Sanada Clan are on the prowl, and I believe their ex-leader had come out
of hiding for good reason."

"Sanada Clan? No, no, no... Takae said that his techniques are under
'Takae Ninjutsu', as though it originated from his family or something,"
Kaoru interposed, tugging on her husband's sleeves for support and
beckoning him to back her up.

Finally, after much deliberation, Kenshin meditatively mentioned, "You
keep bringing up this supposed Sanada Clan, but Takae mostly affiliated
himself with his namesake _Takae_ Clan. Also, when I fought him, he was
acting more like a mere henchman than a mastermind to Gasuke's plot. I
don't quite understand what it is about Takae that makes him important
enough for you to go all the way out here to learn more about him."

"Takae Ninjutsu is merely part of a larger body of martial arts, which
is essentially what Sanada Ninjutsu is. The Sanada Clan takes pride in
gathering all sorts of ninja techniques to further promote the growth
and progress of their Ninjutsu," Aoshi explained in kind as he surveyed
the remnants of Takae's Kunai cut marks on the tatami mats, floorboards,
and the edges of the wooden columns with keen interest. It had been over
a month since Yahiko's momentous fight with the aged ninja master, so
most of the more worn-down boards had been replaced by now. However, the
subtle yet tell-tale signs of an earlier struggle... mostly the minute
nicks and scratches which did not escape the raven-haired shinobi's
notice... was all the evidence he really needed to properly assess the
situation.

"This shadow technique--I couldn't possibly be mistaken. Takae had made
use of the Toro Soujin, the Hagane Tachi Kai, and the Minamo Gakure
techniques during your fight. These shallow grooves that grow deeper and
deeper after each and every strike have all the earmarks of Takae-Sanada
Ninjutsu," Aoshi murmured softly to himself as he crouched down and
traced his finger on one of the ruts, his face unreadable, his grave
undertones containing an indistinct hint of either awe or concern over
the ostensibly insignificant minutiae. 

"Wow. You were able to summarize all those techniques by just looking
at those grooves. That's... totally weird," Kaoru evaluated uneasily as
she herself examined the erstwhile shinobi's clinical procedures with
obvious distaste.

"Yes, those were the techniques that Takae used against us when he and
the rest of Gasuke's gang invaded our house; I had a particularly hard
time with that invisibility trick of his," Kenshin confirmed, paused,
then pensively added, "For a man his age, Takae was quite the formidable
opponent. He made himself disappear in ways which made both his physical
presence and his battle aura completely undetectable; kind of like the
Shukuchi, except he was using something other than pure speed and utter
lack of emotion to hide himself." 

Aoshi offhandedly nodded. "What the Tenken does to 'vanish' in the
middle of battle is completely different from what Takae does. For a
Sanada Ninja to truly disappear, he must be able to not only stop
interacting with the world around him, but keep his ki from interacting
with other people's ki as well. He must have absolute control of his
presence to hide himself in a truly effective manner."

"Oh, I see!" Kenshin excitedly cheered as he firmly palmed his fist in
eager realization. "Though, in retrospect, Yahiko-kun was truly lucky to
have even _survived_ fighting the ninja; that invisibility trick is one
highly advanced technique, let me tell you."

Kaoru gave the two former enemies a fractious, half-lidded look, her
arms crossed in growing impatience. She felt as though she were talking
to two little boys who were debating over which of their stag beetles
had the strongest 'pushing power' or something. "Although I do find this
little 'talk' of yours _fascinating_, I still fail to comprehend this
Takae person's connection to your so-called mission, Aoshi. Can you
_please_ get to the point?"

Completely misunderstanding his wife's sarcastic remark, Kenshin quickly
went to Kaoru's side and grinningly cooed, "The technique is actually
very easy to figure out, Kaoru-dono; it's just nearly impossible to
execute! Let me explain." Before Kaoru could even squeak out in protest,
her husband had already taken her hand to his own, enveloping her with
the warmth of his embrace, sandalwood scent, and close proximity.

"Your senses can be placed in two categories: Active and passive.
Eyesight, hearing, taste, smell, touch, and your danger sense are all
passive senses; they record information from the world around you and
pass it to your brain." Kenshin gently traced his fingers over Kaoru's
skin before playfully covering her eyes and ears, pinching her nose, and
tickling her sides as he enumerated each of the six senses. "On the
other hand, your ki and your ability to scan ki are both active senses
where you send out a bit of ki to see what it interacts with. Still with
me so far, honey?" 

"Uh-huh. R-Right. Okay," Kaoru gasped and gulped, feeling a bit woozy,
giddy, and frustrated because of Kenshin's naive antics and apparent
obliviousness. Even though he behaved like an innocuous wimp most, if
not all, of the time, all it took was one simple--albeit unintentionally
romantic--gesture from him to send Kaoru's mind asunder and her heart
aflutter. Worst of all, he didn't even seem to realize this seeming
influence he had over her. 'Damn him.'

Kaoru's heartbeat and breathing slowed as she tried to listen to her
surroundings. The first thing she heard was Kenshin's breathing. She
could hear the subtleties of its tempo as well as its tranquil cadence;
such a mesmerizing sound. Even so, heightened senses aside, she was far
too distracted to hear the rest of her husband's lecture once she became
quite aware of his hands enveloping hers yet again. His intimate actions
called away all of six, perhaps even eight, of her active and passive
senses while pulling at her very heartstrings.

Time finally sped back to its normal pace once Kaoru managed to gently
yet reluctantly pull her hand away from Kenshin's. She sighed, then
subsequently blinked after she realized her current visitor's lack of a
response; she wasn't the only one sidetracked by peripatetic thoughts.
"Er, Aoshi? Hello? Are you still there?" she asked as she waved a hand
in front of the taller man's face. "Earth to Aoshi, you still with us?"

Aoshi felt the collective gazes of Kaoru, Kenshin, and Misao upon him
as he remained where he was, standing stock-still. "Aoshi-do... I mean,
Aoshi? What have you found out?" the ex-rurouni probed uncertainly.

Aoshi licked his lips, let out a silent yet belabored breath, and
explicated lengthily, "In 1848, the leader of the diminishing Takae
Clan, Takae Masahiro, intermarried into the ancient Sanada Ninja Clan to
form an alliance of sorts to ensure the survival of their brand of
Stealth Ninjutsu into the Twentieth Century. It somewhat worked to a
degree, and eleven years after the merger, Takae founded the Puppet
Masters Guild of the Sanada Clan to further promote Ninjutsu Warfare in
modern day settings. Indeed, during Okina's time, the Onibanwanshu and
the Sanada Clan were in head-to-head competition for the title of Best
Shinobi-for-Hire." 

"Puppet Masters Guild?" Aoshi's three companions echoed in wonder as a
wave of vague and uncertain familiarity washed over them. Misao, in
particular, let out a small squeak of forthright understanding before
she reflexively averted her gaze away from Kenshin and Kaoru's
direction.

"Hmmm. I've heard of that name before," Kenshin musingly commented as he
casually tapped his pointer finger on his chin. "Not the 'Guild' itself
per se, but the title 'Puppet Master'; I just can't put my finger on
where I first heard it, though."

"Well, it should be familiar to you, Battousai. And to the rest of you
as well, especially Himura Kaoru," Aoshi said simply as he stood up
from his crouching position and idly brushed his pants off. "It's only
been six years ago, after all..."

Kaoru seemed taken aback by Aoshi's claim. "What? Me? What do I have to
do with this 'Guild' of yours?"

"Gein," Aoshi curtly answered, as if the mere mention of the strange
name was explanation enough for each and every one of Kaoru's aired and
unaired questions. The out-of-the-blue statement had the expected effect
on the Himura couple; all the color from Kenshin's face drained as his
wife's crestfallen eyes went straight to the tatami mats.

The dojo training hall fell silent; it was an unnerving calm usually
felt within the depths of undisturbed crypts or before the unremitting
wrath of an incoming storm. To think, all this reticence was caused by
the mere mention of one name: Gein.

Gein was an old, thoroughly experienced shinobi, a great craftsman who
was part of both Makoto Shishio's Juppon Gatana and Enishi Yukishiro's
Six Comrades. A Puppet Master in the truest sense of the designation,
Gein was infamous to Kenshin Himura and company for pretending to be a
savage wild-man, for creating three versions of his terrible automaton
"Iwanbou," and for sculpting the hyper-realistic corpse doppelganger of
one Kaoru Himura in order to better serve Enishi's brazen machinations.

The immediate corollaries of Gein's experiment in regards to the limits
of Functional and Decorative Beauty went far beyond the limitations of
his relatively simple goals and aesthetic objectives. In plainer terms,
though Gein couldn't care less about its consequences, the creation of
Kaoru's body double impacted a lot of people in ways he couldn't even
begin to comprehend or appreciate.

To the Puppet Master, the Kaoru marionette was his greatest masterpiece,
an art piece born out of the culmination of his years of experience,
innate talent, and supreme dedication to his special brand of martial
arts. To Kaoru, on the other hand, the entire chain of unusual events
merely felt... surreal; bizarre. Dream-like, almost. The mere idea of
a madman making a body double of herself for whatever reason was beyond
her ken. But to Kenshin Himura, seeing that dead body for the first time
was like going through Hell on Earth. 

There were so many events that had helped make him into the person he
was today, right at this moment. Over time, Kenshin had come to live a
life of penitence, and there was little he would have changed, at least
when it came to the events that he had the ability to change, and there
was no life that was bereft of mistakes. It didn't work like that.

"Battousai?" Aoshi prodded, intentionally using the name which Kenshin
hated the most to elicit a response; however, all he drew from the
former Ishinshishi assassin was a blank, abysmal stare. 

"Himura...?" Misao echoed apprehensively as she combed back her ebony
bangs with two fingers. By that time, nearly all of her compatriots had
become either agitated or distracted by the disheartening discussion.
She couldn't blame them, though; Enishi's Jinchuu affected, perhaps even 
traumatized, Kenshin and most anyone remotely involved with him in a
myriad of ways.

Misao and Kaoru's obvious--and, in Aoshi's case, not-so-obvious--worry
and concern resonated with Kenshin's own chaotic feelings. Somehow,
their physical presence made it much easier for him to remember what
little he wanted to of the fake cadaver incident. But as for Kaoru...
there was joy, contentment, hope... and then there was fear... pain...
loss. It was the same sort of pattern of emotions he had experienced
when Tomoe died. In general, he wanted to remember more about Kaoru and
their happier times together, but at the same time, he dreaded the pain
of reopening old wounds. He bit his lip and winced; his head ached. 

"Don't let your bad memories get in the way of your better judgment,
Battousai," Aoshi asserted to the unresponsive Kenshin, adding, "In
unsure times like this, to fully understand the situation, you must make
rational, absolute judgments that are unaffected by any sort of feelings
or emotions whatsoever."

"You... you're heartless!" Kaoru spat, which made Misao exclaim, "What?
I didn't totally get what Aoshi-sama was going on about, but I got that!
I demand an apology!" Still, the weasel girl couldn't help but give her
impassive Okashira a hesitant, sidelong glance of apprehension; shamed
as she was to admit, but Kaoru did have a point. 

Nonetheless, Kaoru decided to not push the issue any further by quickly
offering her own apologies. "Oh, never mind. I'm sorry, Misao-chan,
Aoshi." Afterwards, she immediately went beside her inert husband and
wordlessly clasped her hand over his, intertwining both their fingers
together for a perfect fit. Kenshin whirled his head in surprise,
leaning hard against a nearby wall as his heart skipped exactly one and
a half beats. Kaoru afterwards gave him a warm, genuine smile, just
because it felt right for her to do so given the situation. 

The middle-aged swordsman had conquered armies, slew hundreds of men,
led individuals on battles and vengeance quests aplenty, and had a ten-
year stint as a wandering vagabond who helped people in need from time
to time. But he had yet to learn how to deal with a woman who had just
thrown herself into his arms and wordlessly put his head on her shoulder
in mute understanding of his melancholic feelings... which was precisely
what Kaoru did.

She didn't say anything... or perhaps didn't need to say anything... as
she just stood there and embraced her husband so that she could help him
expel whatever it was that was bothering his troubled heart. Kenshin
didn't really mind, even though he was mostly perplexed by the gesture,
and put his arms around his wife for comfort all the same. Kaoru Himura
nee Kamiya indeed was his ultimate catharsis. 

Minutes passed until Kaoru had let Kenshin vent enough of his fears and 
frustrations to speak, and to want to speak.

Silence hung across the training room as Aoshi slowly slid the slightly
ajar doors of the dojo shut. He took a moment to prepare himself before
continuing, "He is Edward Gein--don't be fooled by the name, he's not
a foreigner; 'Gein' is just one of his many aliases. He's one of the
last remaining descendants of a small group of people who mastered the
art of mechanics in the middle ages, a talented yet heartless assassin
who uses the shadow techniques for his own selfish purposes. Ergo, he's
the target of my pledge and my last mission as the Onibanwanshu
Okashira."

Kenshin looked over his wife's shoulder and absently nodded to Aoshi's
statement. "Yes, of course; your pledge. You yourself told Gein during
your fight that from then on you will use your shadowy strength to
consign to darkness all shadowy villainy."

Kaoru waited for all of three seconds before she giggled, "Eh? Use his
'shadowy strength' to 'consign' into darkness all 'shadowy villainy'?
Who says that? How corny!" which made the formerly sympathetic Misao
grouse, "Humph! If there's anyone who can pull a cheesy quote off, then
it's Aoshi-sama!"

Kenshin went into full 'peacemaker' mode as Kaoru continued to suppress
her mirth at Aoshi's ham-fisted vocalizations, much to Misao's obvious
vexation. "I admit that it was quite the heavy-handed speech, but if it
works, then it works."

Undeterred by the off-tangent side comments, the shinobi leader put his
hands in his pockets and stared wistfully at the ceiling. "I read a
great deal to prepare for the position of Okashira. I remember a record
of similar shadow techniques in the books left by my forebears. In the
Warring States period, generals would leave substitute 'shadow warriors'
in their places to ensure their own security. But training shadow
warriors took a great amount of time and expense. What was developed was
a secret method of constructing dolls out of corpses that couldn't be
distinguished from real people at a glance. Gein was a master of these
techniques, and he was supposed to be the last of his kind. Takae
himself believed that Ninjutsu was slowly dying out in our Modern Meiji
Era. Well, they somehow found a way around that. Upon further research
into Gein's background, I finally discovered the connection between him,
Takae, the Sanada Ninja Clan, and the Puppet Masters Guild. 

"After intermarrying into the Sanada Ninja Clan, Okashira Takae, with
his old brother-at-arms Gein, banded together with a host of other
ninjas and formed the Puppet Masters Guild. The Guild was made in order
to continue the development of Ninjutsu, and because of this obsession
to constantly refine their techniques, the Sanada Clan became a virtual
treasure trove of information for the long-lost ninja arts. The five
Puppet Masters were adept with concealment, disguise, surgical,
chemical, and mechanical arts--they knew an eclectic mix of Taijutsu,
Shinobi-iri, Hensojutsu, Intonjutsu, Boryaku, and Shosenjutsu, which
they taught to the rest of their fellow Clan members to promote further
development of the aforesaid skills. They also fostered relations with
other countries and similar secret organizations from all around the
world... something that was almost unheard of at the time because of
the Tokugawa Government's Isolationist Policies... so that they could
also adapt Western Knowledge and Technology to their Ancient Ninjutsu 
Martial Arts."

To himself, Aoshi pondered, 'The five original members of the Guild had
code names corresponding to their specific specialty: The Phantom, The
Undertaker, The Surgeon, The Alchemist, and No Face. 'The Phantom'
obviously refers to Takae and his high-level skill of camouflage, while
'The Undertaker' probably refers to Gein and his use of cadavers to
create his shadow puppets. That only leaves three more people to hunt
down and silence.' To the others, he revealed, "I've heard that Takae
had long stepped down as Okashira of the Sanada Clan due to his old age,
and his Puppet Masters Guild has already disbanded; its former members
are now scattered in different parts of the globe, doing mostly
'freelance' work nowadays."

"So?" Kaoru asked, not seeing Aoshi's point. "What of it? You went on
and on about the Sanada Clan and their Guild before revealing that
Ninjutsu is on the decline, the Puppet Masters have disbanded, and
Takae has stepped down as leader of his Ninja Clan. So what's the
problem?"

"The _problem_ is the fact that the Sanada Ninja Clan's clandestine
activities have actually increased instead of decreased after Takae
stepped down. That's not normal. By my estimations, there's a disturbing
connection between Takae's retirement and the Clan's current state of
affairs; something's definitely afoot," Aoshi responded at length.

"And what connection is that?" Misao surprisingly asked for Kaoru's
sake, ostensibly enthralled by the whole course of the conversation. 

"I daresay that the Clan made Takae step down in order to get a younger,
more ambitious leader to better pursue their goals. And I certainly
don't believe that the Puppet Masters Guild has truly disbanded; they're 
regrouping, and are now embroiled in something big, perhaps their one
last, great mission before the turn of the century. In any case, as far
as you're all concerned, the Sanada Clan's objectives are beside the
point. Now, imagine a Guild, or even a Clan, full of Geins running
amuck. All they really need is a cause, a goal, a _mission_ for them to
wreak havoc. For Gein, it was Enishi's Jinchuu. For Takae, it was
Gasuke's Revenge. For a Puppet Master, it doesn't matter what the goal
is, as long as he could use it to further the development of his
ninjutsu. All I'm saying is that wherever the Puppet Masters are,
trouble is sure to follow."

Kaoru did wince a little, at that. But why wince? She didn't care 
about any of those...

Yahiko; even more so, Kenshin. Most, if not all, of the 'Kenshingumi'
were deeply involved in this Sanada Clan debacle, and Aoshi knew it;
Yahiko for getting caught up in Takae's death, and Kenshin for simply
being the Hitokiri Battousai--a man that all three of the remaining
Guild members would want to test themselves against. Aoshi was keeping a
close eye on Yahiko and the Himura family because, one way or another,
these Puppet Masters would eventually enter their lives to unleash their
special kind of mayhem for whatever reason they saw fit. 

After all this time, after all the sacrifices they'd endured to live an
ordinary life... even with Kenji around, even with the sense of normalcy
they'd regained after going through Hell and back... it was starting all
over again. 'It's not as if we don't already have our share of problems,
what with Kenshin's declining health and all...'

"You understand now?" Aoshi asked after watching Kaoru's expression play
out. "Whether you like it or not, this concerns you as well, Himura
Kaoru. Though you'll only have to cross that bridge when you get there,
it'd be in your best interest to keep in mind that you _will_ cross that
bridge sooner or later. Your husband, your son, your students, your
friends and family... all of them... are--"

"Okay, okay," Kaoru interrupted. "No need to get all melodramatic on 
the monologue. I see what you mean. But like you said, we'll only cross
that bridge once we get there, right? That's what I intend to do. So
thanks for the warning, but... we can take it from here. Right,
Kenshin?" 

"Oro?" Kenshin hazily said, as though he had just woken up from a deep
trance. He could only blink in wonder at what was going on for a couple
of moments before the world sped back up and he found himself standing,
hands lingering on Kaoru's. 

"Hmmm. Yes, of course. Whatever problems may arise, we can handle it."
Kenshin smiled and brushed back a limp strand of hair that dangled on
his wife's face, then furrowed his eyebrows in worry after seeing her
suddenly flinch at the intimate gesture. "Kaoru...?"

Silence again passed them in an unhurried pace.

Kaoru bit her lip at what she saw; his hand--Kenshin had small, red
pustules on his hand, just as Megumi warned. The secondary symptoms of
his body's degeneration had finally appeared; first the dizzy spells,
and now this. The years of turmoil, pain, guilt, and suffering were
apparently not enough to atone for his sins. A decade of wandering and
protecting people with his reverse-edged sword wasn't enough either.
Damn the gods, for nothing could ever be enough to save Kenshin from
his own damnation. 

Then there was Yahiko. Though Kenshin's weakening condition was half of
the reason why he gave up his sakabatou to the Descendant of Tokyo
Samurai, the other half rooted from the fact that the boy seemed up to
the task of wielding the sword. But just how ready was he? Could he
really handle something like the Six Comrades or the Ten Swords all by
himself, or would he be overwhelmed by such a heavy responsibility?

Yahiko was like a little brother to Kaoru, and she would never dare wish
her little brother to endure the same kind of arduous, deadly battles
that Kenshin went through in order to protect the weak, the innocent,
and his loved ones. This type of worrisome event should have stopped
happening six years ago. Kaoru had long pushed her memories of such
unpleasant matters deep into the recesses of her mind after Enishi
Yukishiro was finally defeated; after Jine, Kanryuu, Raijuta, Shishio,
Gein, lions, tigers, bears, and all their other 'natural predators'
disappeared from their lives forever. But still...

"It just never ends, does it?"

"Excuse me?" Kenshin asked, surprised that Kaoru's ponderous stillness
was abruptly broken. Right then, she finally noticed the red-haired
man's puzzled stare as he continued to hold onto her arms like a
drowning man caught in his own personal rapids would to a lone, wooden
raft.

"...I just wanted this to go well," Kaoru said quietly as her demure
eyes gazed silently at the dojo floor.

Before the ex-rurouni realized what was going on, Kaoru quickly pulled
her arms from Kenshin's and turned, hoping that he didn't see the sad,
teary look in her eyes before she quickly strode away and announced, "I
need to do my chores." She tried her best not to seem hasty as she
opened the door out of the dojo and went to the patio to sweep up the
leaves and clear her mind of tumultuous thoughts.

Then came thirty seconds of unnerving calm that the three of them felt
forever. A few minutes later, Kenshin and Aoshi's eyes met briefly in
mute understanding: Old wounds did heal as time passed by, but the scars
still remained--it was a legacy of suffering chiseled into the heart
itself.

Kenshin stood there for a few minutes, thinking about what had just
happened, and what he had just learned. 'Kaoru-dono... Kaoru isn't just
worried about the Sanada Clan, but my condition as well. And I really
can't blame her for being concerned. To again face the likes of Gein,
Shishio, or Enishi is upsetting enough as is, but,' he took a good look
at the growing abscesses on his hands and felt several more of them on
his shoulders and sides, 'I may have come to the point where I might not
be able to handle such challenges anymore. Furthermore, Yahiko is now
the one tasked carry out my lifelong mission in my stead. Taking nothing
away from him and his skills, I really do think he may have bitten off
more than he could chew.'


***


In Aoshi's mind, green colorless dreams slept furiously. He was back in
his dream world, and soon found himself standing in a familiar ballroom
of a familiar mansion. Kanryuu's mansion; the place where Hannya and
the others had sacrificed their lives to save his.

Unprepared for this discovery, Aoshi immediately tried to turn away, to
leave this hateful place, but it was too late. He staggered as he
struggled to stop the flood of memories, but there was no escape. Again,
he heard the deadly roar of the Gatling gun, the thud of fiery bullets
striking flesh... and he could do nothing to stop his men from dying all
over again.

Blood splattered on the marble tiles... then came their blind, unseeing
eyes... the reek of burnt gunpowder... and four men who would never move
again.

As Kanyruu's maniacal laughter echoed in his ears, he mentally choked
out, 'No more.' A distant part of his mind screamed that it was a trap,
and he was losing. And even as he struggled to fight his way free of
those terrible memories, all three of his shadowy pursuers smashed
through the walls of his fractured mindscape and found him.

Then Kanryuu's face, for some odd reason, began to morph to that of
Gein's wizened features. The elderly, liver-spotted man then slipped on
his more frightening death mask with strange, ethereally glowing eyes.
Behind him, a ghostly apparition with a flat kabuto on his head and
kunai daggers in his hands winked into existence; Masahiro Takae, Aoshi
presumed.

Most surprising of all, the shadow beasts themselves started to change
their shape. The first one sported domino-like black and white hair and
a scarred, patchwork face with half of his skin darker than the rest of
his features. He also wore a black cape, a gentlemanly coat, pants, and
shoes of western origin, and a held a doctor's scalpel on his hands. 

The second one was even more bizarre than the first, with his ebony suit
of form-fitting armor, his multi-tiered frock with a remarkable array of
razor-sharp blades attached to its hem, and a perfect replica of his
very own head wrapped around his arm like a watermelon.

The third one was the most frightening of the three, with its bald head
and albino body completely deformed in ways that made even Hennya's
disfigurement pale in comparison. But like the others, the protean
abomination's most striking feature was its face... or rather, its
complete lack of one. It had the thinnest of mouths which virtually
disappeared from view once closed, eyes with no pupils to speak of, two
small holes for its nostrils, and a complete lack of ears, cheekbones,
eyebrows, hair, and many other normal facial features. This was truly a
man with no face.

They were The Surgeon, The Alchemist, and No Face respectively, Aoshi
reckoned: His inner demons had transformed into the targets of his last
mission; the final vestiges of his past; the penultimate connection
between him and his dark memories as Leader of the Onibanwanshu Spies
during and after the Bakumatsu.

The next thing he knew was that he was on the floor, desperately trying
to keep the third beast's malformed head and dripping fangs away from 
his throat. A hard kick sent the monster flying over his shoulder, only
to be replaced by his two other compatriots. Crushed beneath their
weight and the foul aura clinging to their bodies, Aoshi found himself
perilously close to oblivion.

Before Aoshi could witness what happened next, a strange nasally snort
interrupted his dream, and the moment, the memory, was gone. The scene
whirled, and the darkness became complete. He could feel himself being
swept along towards awakening, as if he were caught in a strong current.
He could sense that he was rising up from the blackness deep inside him
towards the light and consciousness that awaited him outside of this
limbo. He was powerless to stop it now, helpless in the grip of inertia.


***


Misao sniffled and felt her throat tighten after watching the wordless
conversation between Kenshin's and Kaoru's bodies--a graceful, almost
unbearably poignant dance. Hastily wiping the tears in her eyes, she
groped for the closest piece of cloth--which happened to be the sleeve
of Aoshi's outfit--and loudly blew her nose.

Realizing what she had done only after the fact, she turned bright red
and stammered, "Aoshi... Aoshi-sama...!"

Aoshi gazed at her with no particular expression on his face. But as she
stared up into his eyes, Misao saw the imperfectly hidden signs of old
pain and regrets... of lingering memories of his own personal darkness
he left behind.

Misao gave Aoshi a wide-eyed stare; he looked rather pale and she could
see faint but definite signs of anguish around the eyes and the mouth.
However, he seemed to be fairly good shape, all things considered. She
reached out and put her hand on his forehead. 'He's not feverish, thank
goodness!'

"...." Aoshi ranted as he stared dismally at the weasel girl's antics.

Misao then wondered, 'Have I been expecting the wrong thing from him?
I've been trying to get Aoshi to blurt out his feelings for the entire
world to see, but what if he can't? I admit that the mere thought of him
putting up his walls again scares me quite a bit, but perhaps there's
more to it than just that.' Her thoughts drifted back to their earlier
conversation in front of the Kamiya Dojo, then she put it together with
she had just seen between Kenshin and Kaoru.

'Just like with Kenshin's guilt over Tomoe's death and Kaoru's faux
demise, you still carry your own guilt over the deaths of Hannya,
Beshimi, Hyotoko, and Shikijo in your heart; somehow, this mission of
yours is dedicated to them, isn't it? So all this time, you've been so
emotionally distant because you somehow feel unworthy and besmirched,
and you don't want to contaminate me with this sordidness you think you
have. Is that why you only let the least amount of caring and emotion
show if you can help it?'

Something abruptly boiled over inside Misao. Without any warning, she
suddenly grabbed the collar of Aoshi's clothes and yanked his head down
to her level. Hissing softly in his ear, she straightforwardly said,
"Don't you dare clam up on me again, Aoshi-sama! I've just had it up to
_here_ the last time you did that, and I don't ever want to go through
that again!"

"Misao...?" He gave her a faintly bewildered stare.

Keeping her voice low while virtually ignoring Kenshin's presence and
utter bemusement, she snarled, "I understand that this is your last and
most important mission as Okashira. I also understand why you had to be
so brutally frank and blunt with Kaoru-san in regards to the Himura
family's link with your assignment. Okay, I get it; this truly is a
matter of dire circumstances for all of us concerned. That's fine.
However, that's no excuse for you to start acting so cold and aloof!"

Aoshi eyed her with the same startled stare that a person might bestow
upon a cute little weasel suddenly gone rabid.

"Well, now that you're already starting to open up and regain some of
your lost humanity, you better not lose yourself again just because of
some stupid mission! I'm not about to let you go crawling back behind
your walls and become a walking block of ice again, got it?" Misao
growled angrily into Aoshi's ear. 

Understandably, Aoshi didn't quite know what to say to that. The 
shadow ninja leaned calmly next to Misao in the corner of the training
hall, and nodded along with her description. He mulled over her words,
her 'enthusiasm', and so on.

If there was one thing a man such as he knew, it was difficult life
decisions. Even in some of his less violent roles of the past, he had
led people into battle over one issue or another. There were insights
one made during such a colorful lifetime that a 'green' ninja such as
Misao had not.

Perhaps it was time for an object lesson. He studied the incensed but
totally well-meaning girl, so seeking of his assent to her line of
reasoning, and started to assemble the words he required. Words could be
just as effective a weapon as any trap for catching someone off-guard.
After pondering upon Misao's heated contentions and adorable candor some
more, he steeled himself and asked, "Misao, have you ever killed a
woman? Or a child, for that matter?"
    
"W-Why would you ask such a stupid question like that?!" Misao blurted
out defensively, feeling completely unprepared by the sudden, one-
eighty degree turn of their private conversation. "Of course I haven't!
Why should I, Aoshi-sama?"

"Every creature must know peace, Misao," Aoshi enigmatically stated.
"Living in pain or fear is a terrible thing to endure; I should know.
We have to do what we have to do in order to attain this peace, even if
we ourselves have to sacrifice something in return. Now, let me ask you
another question; if faced with the decision where you'd have to kill
women and children for the greater good, would you do it?"

"N-No! Never! What 'greater good' would that be? I would n-never--!"
Misao's voice wavered as the true, heartrending message behind Aoshi's
words gradually dawned to her. 'Oh no. So it wasn't just Hannya and the
others' deaths that made your heart so calloused and unfeeling, Aoshi-
sama; they were simply the straw that broke the camel's back.'

With a gentle, comforting hand on the ninja girl's shoulder, Kenshin
said softly, "Misao..."

Eyes afterward locked like steel bars. 

The Okashira unflinchingly stared down at the perplexed kunoichi; in a
flat, emotionless voice, he divulged, "It'd be naive for you think that
greed, corruption, and evil are the sole providence of men. It is
usually the unexpected or unsuspected persons who often do the most
damage."

As Misao continued to give Aoshi an incredulous, bewildered stare, the
Okashira returned it in kind with a deadpan look and remarked, "I just
wanted you to understand why things are the way they are. Just ask
Himura Battousai; he knows these types of dilemmas from firsthand
experience."

Misao's eyes turned to Kenshin, who slowly removed his hand from her
shoulder and shifted uncomfortably under her stare. He eyed Aoshi with
no particular expression on his face as, out of habit, his other hand
pawed at the nonexistent hilt of his missing sakabatou.

After pausing for a moment to get over her ongoing befuddlement, Misao
sharply retorted, "This conversation isn't about Kenshin; I'm talking
about you and your _condition_, Aoshi-sama! Please stop changing the
subject and give me a straight answer already!"

But already, the conviction behind her voice felt rather weak and
halfhearted--in not so many words, Aoshi just told her to get off his
case because it wasn't exactly the easiest of tasks to regain his
humanity after suffering through some very traumatizing events all
throughout his life. Being a cold, unfeeling bastard was merely his way
of coping, after all.

"I already gave you an answer to your contentions by asking you these
tough questions; I'm sorry I had to introduce you to these truths in
such a terrible way, but there is no soft method to prepare you for this
eventuality--we do what we must to survive," was Aoshi's somewhat
sympathetic but mostly adamant reply, finally hitting the last nail of
the coffin right on its head... or something to that effect, since Misao
wasn't very good at quoting metaphors, mixed or otherwise.
    
Kenshin thought, 'Yes, Misao. By making you realize the answers to his
tough questions, Aoshi had, in turn, answered all your contentions as
well. Can't you understand? Back then, it didn't matter who it was...
man or woman... adult or child... If anyone interfered with what we
perceived to be our duty, they died. For Aoshi, the Onibanwanshu
missions were of the utmost importance to him, regardless of 'collateral
damage.' For myself, it was defending the lives of the members of the
Ishin Shishi by whatever means necessary.'

After all was said and done, no witty comebacks or intense assertions
sprang to Misao's mind. She stared, angered and humiliated in front of
the two most important men in her life, trying to think of some way to
save face and prove that she was... what? That she was right? That she
could change the way Aoshi thought of himself with her silly antics,
utter stubbornness, and constant, unremitting exuberance? That she
wasn't merely some naive and inexperienced pup who was born eternally
optimistic simply because she had yet to be hit by a brick wall full of
_real life_ on the face?

Instead, she turned and screamed in frustration as she stormed off into
the room directly adjacent to the training hall. What else should she
have done?


***


Misao slammed open the nearby sliding door in disgust; what was this
fortune cookie crap Aoshi was telling her about life? Never mind that
all of it was true, that was totally fucking uncalled for! What a jerk!
To think, she was only airing her worries about him reverting to his
cold, unfeeling bastard self, and then he told her some bullshit facts
about life and turned the conversation around until she didn't know
which way was up anymore like the cold, unfeeling bastard that he was!
The sheer nerve of that guy! Grumble grumble mutter bitch growl kick
stuff over bad mood grrrrr.

So, unable to face Aoshi at this time, she decided to pace around until
she _was_ ready to have what-for with that guy. She didn't get it; they
seemed to be getting along fine when they were planning this caper.
Then he just turned on her for no reason at all! That prick! Well, she'd
_get_ that reason, even if it took red hot pokers to the crot--

Misao bumped midriff-first into the huddled Tsubame and Kenji, with the 
former covering the confused latter's ears. Apparently, Misao was
mumbling her livid thoughts aloud, as further evidenced by Tsubame's
reddened, burning ears from all the apparent cursing.

"Oh, it's you guys," Misao dully acknowledged, stepping around them to
get by in the hallway. But the hyperactive Kenji, to Tsubame's chagrin,
blocked her path again. And again. "Hello, Auntie Misao!" the young tot
cheerfully greeted--

Misao's vision turned red as she protested, "I am NOT that OLD! DON'T
call me THAT!" She then lifted Kenshin's only begotten son from the
ground and whirled him around on her shoulders while Tsubame frantically
pleaded for her to stop. A dizzying moment later and all three of them
were sprawled on the floor in a boneless heap as the living room kept on
swirling around them like a carnival ride.

"That was mean, auntie!" Kenji whined sullenly, his face scrunched up
and looking a bit green because of his unexpected trip that led to
nowhere. "And it was yow idea anyway! You wanted me to call you 'auntie'
'coz people always kept thinking yow was a little gal and you wanted to
feel g'won up!"

Misao groaned in repentance. "Sorry 'bout that, little guy; I was just
venting. Oh my gosh, I think I'm gonna...!" The kunoichi blanched and
shuddered after getting a taste of her lunch for a second time.

"What is this all about anyway, Misao-san?" Tsubame politely inquired
as she got up and promptly covered Kenji's mouth. Never mind that the
pair of ersatz siblings already knew what happened because of their
eavesdropping earlier; Misao didn't need to know that, the Akabeko
waitress primly mused.

After much contemplation and inner deliberation, Misao hesitantly
disclosed, "The mission. Aoshi's mission. My mission. My future. Just...
Aoshi, in general. Lots of stuff. Everything, really."

Tsubame sighed in relief; though Misao's sentences came in short, terse,
and undecipherable fragments, she instinctively knew where the older
girl was coming from; this felt more familiar to her. Not that she was
an expert on the subject or anything, but at the very least this was a
subject she knew something about. "So you're now... involved with Aoshi-
san, then?"

Misao expected herself to recoil at the allegation, so she surprised
herself by simply stammering, "Oh, no! I mean, not that much. Not
seriously. He didn't think it was serious... I think;" correcting
herself each time. "We have so much in common. We grew up together, and
we both love ninjutsu. I mean, even if he's ahead of me by," she counted
the years on her fingers, "a decade and a year, and he treats me more
like a kid sister than anything else, I still do... care a lot about him,
dammit!" 

Misao struggled to calm herself down before continuing, "And, though it
doesn't look like it, we've actually spent some time together, chatting
and sharing our thoughts with each other. We've talked about all the
cool stuff going on in the world, and what the future might bring now
that the nineteenth century is about to end and all." She sighed
wistfully as she stared at nothing in particular. 
"But there was a split in views at one point," Tsubame noted, having a
slight inkling on where the discussion was going.

"W-ell... not exactly. This current mission of his is supposed to be his
last; his one final hurrah before he settles down ('with me,' Misao
added to herself) as an innkeeper in Aoiya. So we actually have a common
viewpoint in that regard. Still, I can't help but think that _because_
this is his ultimate mission as Okashira, he's now becoming slightly
obsessive-compulsive about it. More than usual, in any case." The ninja
girl shrugged helplessly. "Oh well. Like he and Kaoru-san said earlier,
it looks like we'll just have to hurl your lifeless body from that
bridge when we come to it."

"Er, I don't think that's what Aoshi-san or Kaoru-san said, Misao-san,"
Tsubame gently corrected, hastily wiping the exasperated drip of sweat
off of her forehead.

"Whateva! Enough talking 'bout missions! I wanna know what happened to
big bwotha alweady!" Kenji persisted as he waved the pages of Yahiko's 
letter in front of the two girls; he absolutely detested girl talk,
after all.

"Humph. The kid sure loves to write," Misao sardonically assessed as she
sadly shook her head and swiped the pages out of Kenji's tiny little
hands. "Let's take a look-see at that, shall we?"

"HEY! I thought you alweady w'ead it!" Kenji griped as he tried to take
the letters back from the erstwhile Okashira.

"Huh?" Misao raised an eyebrow at Kenji. "Oh. Oh! So you think that I've
already read _everything_, huh? Silly rabbit, we've only read the
important parts of Yahiko's letters and skimmed the rest of it. That
self-absorbed brat can sure go on and on and on about his little
misadventures, let me tell you." 

After a few minutes of speed reading--an Onibanwanshu specialty--Misao's
jaw metaphorically dropped to the floor as she gave the inanimate letter
a peculiar double-take. "I don't believe it."

"What is it, Misao-san?" Tsubame queried as she looked over the older
girl's shoulder to see what all the hubbub was about. "Did something bad
happen to Yahiko-san in the later paragraphs?"

Not really hearing Tsubame's question, Misao abruptly hurled the myriad
of papers in the air and struck a somewhat bone-breaking yet highly
dramatic pose. "So Yahiko has somehow met that big, idiotic lug of a
felon... Huh. It's a small world after all. Still, it begs the question:
What the hell is _Gan_ doing in Shinsushin?!"


***


Next: A Cock's Tale.

In regards to what's coming next; no, it's not a lemon chapter
involving Sanosuke. Jeez. Also... 'Introducing a plot point that
won't be visited until sometime later', _check_ and _double
check_.

In these latest chapters, I used a different narrative style from
what I'd normally use because I'm weird that way. It's also a
welcome change of pace for me personally, but I hope the change
wasn't too off-putting to some of my regular readers. And though
I'm probably going out on a limb here with the 'Yoshi' reference,
I don't care: my nostalgic bias of the (in retrospect, mediocre
at best, horrific at worst) Sony dub of 'Samurai X' demands that
I put it in there. Expect references to 'Kenshi', 'Kaori', and
'Sato' in the near future. :P

I'll also be doing a little experiment on Rurouni Yahiko; nothing
as fancy as the thing I did for Youtou Shinnoken, just a strict,
twenty-plus page limit that I'll be enforcing right about... now.
(ahem) I've noticed that I've been stricken with a disease called
'novella-like chapters' in my other two fanfics (Shonen and
Demon's Sword), so shorter, byte-sized chapters would be a nice
change of pace. 

A note of dedication goes to MadamHydra for inspiring me to make 
this fic. Her own "That Which Lingers" is somewhat an influence in
this endeavor of mine. 

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) 
are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue
me please, I'm very poor.

Salamat sa pagbabasa!
Abdiel

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