[ Watashi ]

[ Tomodachi ]

[ Saint Seiya ]

[ Clamp ]

[ Fanfiction ]

Mother....

Mother, I'm here.

Slowly, reluctantly, I stirred from the dreamless slumber which had won over me in the middle of the night.

Shunsuke? I asked in a colorless thought, devoid of emotion. You're far from Ise, son of mine.

I know, Mother, but I had to come, I had to reach out to you. The sensation of presence was faint; it was the mere whisper of a breeze blowing over the dark ocean of dreams far below me, an ocean as calm as a pond...a pond, or a quagmire, a lifeless swamp whose dull surface was a distantly horrible invitation to drown. And yet, that small, insignificant breeze managed to carry something with it, and to come up to me.

Sorrow.

My son's presence was filled with grief. Inwardly, I sighed. Ah, I see. With an empty inner smile, I added, You're wasting your strength, hatchling. You had better return to Ise before the elders catch you dream-walking.

No! Something that might have been anger, or perhaps fear reached me, a stain in Shunsuke's thoughts. Look at yourself, Mother I almost couldn't sense you; from the feeling of you, one could think that you were the one who died, not Eiji.

I tensed on reflex, and then relaxed. You knew. The elders have initiated you to the Kakai ceremony, then?

Anger and worry, night-blue mixed with the dark grey of charcoal twirled around me, ethereal clouds which dissipated into nothingness. That's not the point, Mother! Sorrow again, deep. I didn't truly know, I suspected. It's not easy to see and feel-- A mental shake of the head, then, Why is your heart locked, Mother? Why can't I even touch you?

Because it was far better for him not to be able to.

Far better.

Because it would have hurt him, and because something deep inside me remembered him, remembered that Shunsuke was my son, and that I must not allow him to reach beyond my inner wards lest the emptiness claim him as well.

Go away, Shunsuke, I told the faint, insignificant breeze which was futilely trying to rise up to me but could only ripple the black mire of dreams, far below. I have no need for pity, not from you, not from anyone. Return to Ise, and don't disturb me again.

Grief, immense, and love suddenly unfolded and rose, impossible wings which won free from the swamp that should have safely imprisoned them, and the emotions enveloped me gently, cautiously, while my son's thoughts echoed in my mind. I'll obey you, Mother, because I'm not yet strong enough to challenge you. But I love you, and I won't let you wall yourself away. I love you, Mother, we love you, Father and I, and we're here for you, just like you were here for us.

That was the wrong thing to say. Had Shunsuke been older, he'd have realized his mistake and he'd have refrained from telling me that cruel truth. But he was young and sincere, and the words reached me, borne by the beautiful wings of my son's heart.

Mercilessly clear.

Just as I was there for Eiji. Mad laughter rose within, amplifying with each second and threatening the stability of the void which had enshrouded my being. I sought refuge in wakefulness, and abruptly severed the connection between Shunsuke and I.

Sitting up on the futon, I raised a hand to my brow and bowed my head, in a slow motion. I could still feel my son's love and warmth lingering in the air, all around me. With a soft curse, I closed myself to the ghosts of those unwelcome emotions. I had no need for them.

No need at all.

I straightened, letting out a slight sigh, and abruptly realized that I was alone in the bedroom. The other half of the futon was empty. I reached out to it, and felt a bitter smile on my lips. Nodding to myself, I stood up in silence, and froze as I turned towards the door leading towards the porch and the inner garden.

It was open, and it was letting in the grey light which heralded the coming of dawn. A shadow was sitting halfway in the room, and halfway in the porch, its back resting against the edge of the sliding door. I watched, unmoving, when its head tilted backwards as it exhaled a long puff of smoke. Then, yielding to a nameless impulse, I stepped towards it in silence.

As I dropped to my knees beside the shadow, I asked it in a whisper, "Why are you here?"

The shadow turned sharply towards me, surprised, and the amber eyes of the Wolf of Mibu met mine. With a weary shrug, he replied, "I needed a cigarette, and I didn't want to disturb your sleep." That wasn't the answer to my question. What I wanted to know was why he was still here in this house where I lived, where I offered shelter but was unable to protect those who were mine...but I let the true question be unanswered. "Tokio," I focused on the man sitting beside me, and out of habit I listened to the meaningless sounds that human beings called words. "I cannot feel your ken-ki anymore, there's something dark which is choking it."

A distant smile came to my lips as the colorless words' meaning registered in my brain. Absentmindedly, I replied, "Don't worry, it's all right." Then my smile faded into nothingness, while emotions reached out from the heart of the void.

Hatred.

Fury.

Grief.

Shame.

Guilt.

But above all, hatred. True, pure hatred which was colder than ice, a cold fire which knew neither limits nor boundaries. Softly, quietly, I whispered, "I'll make her pay, Hajime."

He started at that, and a strange light flickered in the amber eyes. Something that looked like fear, and didn't belong in the Wolf. There was a long moment of silence, then a lopsided grin came to his face. "We'll make her pay..." the amber eyes set on me, unwavering, as he went on, "but not while you're like this. Not while you allow grief to devour your soul and hatred to engulf your heart." I tried to look away, then, but he didn't let me. Reaching out to me, he let his fingertips brush against my left cheek in a gentle caress. From very far away, I felt his touch, and mentally flinched from the searing sensation born from the contact between his gentle warmth and hatred's ice.

"There are no more patches of green in your eyes, Tokio, it feels as if you had been swallowed by the night." He released me, then shook his head while I fought the urge to rub my skin where his fingers had touched it. The echo of that contact was lingering within me, and it hurt. "There's a difference between demanding the price for a crime, and vengeance. If you start a hunt for the wrong reasons, you risk destroying yourself as well as the object of your hatred."

"I--" I shook my head, unable to force the words out of me. He didn't know, he didn't understand, and I couldn't tell him. There were no words adequate to express the flames of ice consuming my soul, to express the undeniable need, the desperate thirst for blood.

To drown into the assassin's blood.

To drown so that guilt, sorrow and grief would leave me.

To drown so that guilt, sorrow and grief would stop haunting me.

Torturing me.

"I understand what's eating at you, Tokio." He reached out to me again, but stopped as he was about to touch me, as if afraid to complete the movement. "You have to let it all go, there's no other way. You must let it all go."

Numb, I stared at him. All that my mind managed to come up with was the absurd thought that the sorrow and the anguish in his smile were beautiful.

He hurts as well. A small, shadowed part of me had somehow managed to free itself from the choking embrace of grief and hatred; and it was watching the Wolf. The Wolf, the man who was my soul mate. The man who knew who was hiding behind the warrior's mask.

The man who had brought Eiji to my door.

The man who had cared about an insignificant orphaned boy enough to find him a shelter where he could grow and heal.

I reached out to him, and observed our fingers as they intertwined. Then I looked up at him, slowly, and told him in a barely audible voice, "Forgive me, Hajime," for thinking solely of myself and my pain when I know that you hurt like I do.

A soundless chuckle escaped him, and all of a sudden he brought me against him. I felt his arms wrapping around me, holding me protectively close as if I had been something fragile and precious, as if--

"I love you, stupid tomboy of a woman." Fiercely, he hugged me, repeating in a whisper, "I love you, Tokio."

My eyes widened as the words struck me, and pain rose within me in answer to them. A pain so horrible that it tore through the thick blanket of hatred which had closed over my heart, a pain so terrible that it shattered the void into which my soul had drowned. Abruptly, I realized that I was trembling in Hajime's arms, and I tried to get a grip over my body's reaction. Burying my head against his chest, I desperately focused on the feeling of his skin against my cheek, on his scent which was filling the air around me. I fought to master the tremors which were shaking me, and failed. Then I brought my left hand up, I shoved my forefinger inside my mouth and savagely bit on it, struggling for control. Again I failed, and I felt a wailing cry rise up my throat as violent spasms took hold of my body and as my head reflexively tilted backwards to release the storm I could no longer keep locked within.

When the first lights of dawn touched the inner garden of the Sumeragi mansion in Kyoto, a low, keening howl of mourning echoed in the air and broke through the silence. The Wolf's arms held me through it all, held me back when the winds of madness rose and tried to take me away, held me as the icy coldness of hatred tore myself apart, held me as the storm of grief raged within. When eventually exhaustion won over me, he rested my head in the hollow of his shoulder, and I took the feeling of his warmth with me as oblivion claimed me.

The sun had risen over the beautiful forest of cypress trees, close to the sacred city of Ise, when a young adolescent cried himself to sleep, exhausted.

Grief, relief and anguish warring in his heart.

Grief for the death of one who would have been his brother, had he been given a chance to know him.

Grief for the pain devouring his mother's heart, which had almost broken her spirit.

Relief, because his father had somehow managed to reach her and allow her to let go, if only a little bit.

Anguish, because he knew that once the dark seeds of hatred were sowed in the heart of one of his line, it took more than the release of grief to eradicate them.

The muscles in my back tensed when I raised the kodachi blade above my head. Ignoring the pain they sent radiating through my body, I slashed the short sword downwards in a violent movement, but no telltale whistling sound rose in the air. Reaching up with my left hand, I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow and sighed. It was the middle of the afternoon, and it was hot. Too hot for kenjutsu practice, but I didn't care about that.

Tightening my grip on the kodachi's hilt, I focused my mind on the blade, on its weight and on the entity it and I were forming, linked to my body through my hand as it was.

One with me.

I closed my eyes and emptied my mind, concentrating on that word: one. The sword and I weren't separate, we were one. Its balance and mine merged, its weight a part of me. Slowly, I raised my right arm up and backwards, until my wrist reached my shoulder's level, and advanced my left leg, setting my whole weight on the right. Then I grinned as my abused muscles proceeded to remind me that intense practice demanded regularity, and shouldn't have been the result of whim. I felt the painful knots in my shoulderblades as well as the tearing sensation in the palm of my right hand, sure indication that I'd have won blisters before I was through. I felt those aches, and focused my whole self on them as I opened my eyes. I was a tool, a weapon aimed at some point set in the direction of my left hand, which was raised in parallel to the blade, fingertips resting, featherlight, against the steel's dull edge.

I was an arrow.

Unmoving, I kept the pose, oblivious to everything else, frozen. Suspended between two swings of Time's great clock.

Then, I was abruptly released.

A slow smile came to my lips when a few locks of jet black hair, freed from the ponytail, fell back before my face as I came to a complete halt. Out of habit, I raised the kodachi again and slashed it down, even though there was no blood to be cleansed from it. Nodding to myself, I turned around, and stopped my movement when I saw the silent figure of Himura Kenshin standing against the wall of the dojo.

Watching me, an unfathomable light shining in his violet eyes.

I sheathed the short sword in a slow and fluid movement, then gave him a slight bow. Pushing himself away from the wall, he stepped towards me, and said quietly, "There's too much anger in your blade, Tokio-dono." With a slow shake of his head, he added, "There are too many strong emotions which taint your ken-ki."

Inwardly, I winced at the gentle rebuke, and heaved out a weary sigh. "I misuse the blade when I draw it with my heart in turmoil. I know." Smiling bitterly, I shrugged. "However I have no choice, for the enemy won't kindly wait for me to be in the right mood before attacking, is that not so?"

There was a thoughtful nod from the red-haired samurai, who asked me in a soft voice, "Tokio-dono, does Saitou know that Okita Soushi was the one who taught you the Way of the Sword?" When I started in surprise, he explained, smiling, "I've fought the Shinsengumi captains several times at the end of the Bakumatsu, and I can see their first captain's style in you. He taught you well; that move was beautiful, even though your mind is heavily burdened."

Again I shrugged, and a sad chuckle escaped me. "It was satisfactory, no more and no less." Getting a firm grip over myself, I nodded. "You're right, Soushi-kun was the one who taught me. We were friends, he and I. As to my husband being aware of that..." smiling despite myself, I said in a whisper, "who knows what the Wolf has perceived? He never asked, but I suppose he must suspect, at the very least." I reached up to chase away my stray locks of hair and wipe a few drops of perspiration from my temples. Absentmindedly, I thought that I needed a long, hot bath.

I needed to cleanse myself.

"Tokio-dono...." I refocused on Himura Kenshin, who asked in a soft whisper, his eyes set on me, "Where's Saitou? He should be at your side."

"He was," I replied with a gentle smile, "he was. He stood by me through the storm, he held me back. When I awoke, I bade him to sleep. He was exhausted, but despite that he wouldn't listen. So I cheated somewhat, but you won't tell him that, will you? He needed to rest, and to let go of his own pain."

He nodded in silence, then eventually said, as if reluctant to speak, "The two of you love each other truly, it's good. Never let yourself forget it, Tokio-dono. Never let the dark sons of grief devour you." His voice reduced to a barely audible whisper as he tonelessly added, "I know what terrible pain is tearing you apart, believe me, I know. I felt it myself when Tomoe...died...by my fault."

For a moment, Himura Kenshin's beautiful violet eyes veiled with pain, and my heart skipped a beat. Tomoe-san ga.... Abruptly, traitorous grief won through the warrior's mask, and I bowed my head while tears started burning my eyes. I fought the painful knot in my throat, as well as the tide of dark emotions which was rising within once more.

Pull yourself together, moronic fool! My right hand clenched into a tight fist, and pain flared up in it as the blisters opened. Desperately, I focused on that, and slowly faced Himura Kenshin once more. With a crooked smile on my lips, I nodded. "I'll fight it, Himura-san. I'll fight it with all my strength, I promise you." That said, I bowed deeply and concluded, "Thank you, Himura-san. For caring enough to reopen your own wounds on behalf of an outsider like me, thank you from the heart."

He waved in denial. "Iie." Smiling he added, "I haven't even started repaying the old debt I have towards you, Tokio-dono. I haven't forgotten what happened at the end of the Bakumatsu."

Silence reclaimed dominion over the dojo while I freed the training sword from my belt and proceeded to clean it. Every now and then, I'd stop to give my right hand an irritated stare: the blisters were open and they were hurting, oozing a little bit of blood which made the cleaning of my blade an almost impossible task. All of a sudden, a hand reached out and gently took the kodachi from me.

"May I?" I looked into Himura Kenshin's eyes, and felt a smile coming to my lips as I nodded assent. While he started to work with a rapidity and a surety of movement born from many years of constant practice, I examined the damage in the palm of my hand with a disgusted sigh. The skin had been torn away in places, and it'd have to regrow.

Silence fell over us for a few minutes, then a tall, slim figure entered the dojo and stepped towards us. "You're here." There wasn't any question in Shinomori Aoshi's voice, so neither Himura Kenshin nor I replied. A faint smile came to the Oniwabanshu leader's lips as he said, "Saitou has awoken, Sumeragi-san, and for some reason he's not in a good mood." I raised an eyebrow quizzically, while the red-haired samurai gave a helpless sigh, smiling at the same time, which seemed to be his usual reaction when confronted to my husband's foul temper. Oblivious to this, Shinomori Aoshi held out a small pouch towards me and added, "This is for you. From what I can see, he was right: you need to take care of those blisters."

I reached out, taking the offered unguent and bowing in thanks, and a bittersweet feeling took hold of my heart.

Slowly, I set down my small twig of sakaki tree on the white coffin, careful not to tear the fragile tamagushi. Unblinking, I stepped back and watched as all the people present did the same: Hajime, Himura Kenshin, Shinomori Aoshi, Makimachi Misao, Hiroko, Yuta and the whole household. Once we were done, the priest gently ushered us out of the room. We had been watching over the body of Eiji during the whole night, and the funeral ceremony was over.

Now Eiji would be buried according to the Shinto rite. It wasn't the usual custom to do it this way, the clan had always called upon Buddhist priests to perform the funeral ceremonies, but I knew that Eiji had come from a small village where people's lives were rhythmed with Shinto rites, and where Buddhism felt just a bit more foreign. Discarding the family tradition, I had ordered that a Shinto priest be fetched to perform the rites, the way I thought that Eiji would have wanted it.

I didn't feel anything different in the air when I exited the house's shrine and walked out in the open. A strong wind was blowing, slapping my hair against the sides of my neck despite the ponytail, but I didn't pay the annoyance any heed. Consequences would entail from Eiji's death as well as from the actions of the assassin on soil that belonged to the Sumeragi. I should have pondered them, I should have analyzed the situation and what was to be done, but my mind was a dull blank, an empty book whose pages refused to be written, no matter what ink and quill one would choose. I just couldn't envision the meaning of the word "future" in this moment.

"Ane-ue...." I turned towards Yuta, who had walked up to me, and he said softly, "If there's anything I can do to help you, please tell me."

I looked into my younger brother's chocolate eyes and saw sincerity there, as well as compassion. He had done a lot already, in not opposing himself to the Shinto ceremony, and more in assisting me and the priest through all the preparations. At no moment had he even hinted at that fact that I wasn't following the clan's way. I hadn't heard any outraged lecture on the clan's image, on the contrary. Through it all, I had felt his presence close by, silent and steady.

We didn't get along well, Yuta and I, but we were kin. We were siblings, and our quarrels retreated to the shadows when something as difficult as this came up. So I shook my head and replied with a slight bow, "No, thank you. You've done a lot already. Without you, I don't know that I could have pulled it through on my own."

He nodded, and silence again fell over us while we walked in the house's main porch. Eventually, he let out a heavy sigh, and reluctantly turned towards me, as if he had been struggling with something and had at last reached a decision that he didn't like. In a quiet voice, he said, "We need to talk, ane-ue. As soon as it suits you, we have to."

Surprised at the gravity in the tone of his voice, I nodded. "Of course. We can do so now if you wish." The sun was rising in the sky, and we had just come from a sleepless night of deathwatch. I'd have preferred to have a few hours of rest, but I couldn't deny my younger brother this request, not after what he had just done for me.

"Then now it will be," he said with a short nod. Turning towards my companions and my husband, he bowed. "Please excuse us, but my sister and I must talk concerning matters internal to our clan. It won't be long." That said, he steered me away towards the secondary office room that belonged to him, while a distant part of me wondered.

Matter internal to our clan? What could have been so urgent as to require immediate discussion? Had the elders gotten wind of what had happened? That was unlikely, Yuta had given me his word that nothing would go beyond the mansion's gate.

He slid the door shut once I had entered the small room, and we knelt face to each other. Distantly, I noted that he had chosen to set himself right in front of me, without the barrier of the low table he used as a desk. There was an awkward moment of silence, during which I patiently waited for him to say what was on his mind. There were dark circles under my younger brother's eyes, sign that he was tired as well, and also perhaps that there were things weighing heavily on his mind.

Eventually, he took a deep breath and began, his eyes set on me, "Ane-ue, it can't go on like this. Things have gone too far. I didn't say anything when you invited strangers as guests of our house, even though I knew that you must have done this to indirectly grant them your protection." He shook his head. "I'm not a fool, ane-ue. I guessed almost immediately who else might be involved, and still I refrained from rising against your choice as would have been my right." He bowed his head, heaving out a weary sigh before facing me again. "Now the Sakurazukamori has stepped under our roof, and she has shed blood. She wouldn't have done this if she hadn't felt that the balance between our clans had been broken..." mercilessly, he added, "broken by you, ane-ue. I should never have let you bring these strangers into our home." With a helpless wave of his left hand, he went on, "But then that's the past. What concerns me is what must be done now in order to preserve the safety and existence of the clan."

I gave my brother a cold, steady stare as I felt anger rising inside my heart. Who do you think you are, Yuta, to dictate what must be done to protect the clan?

He looked away from me, as if unwilling to take up the challenge, and said in a whisper, "They must be cast out, ane-ue. Give the Sakurazukamori back her preys. You must revoke your offer of hospitality while there's still time. You must do so before you cause a war which will destroy us and tear us apart from the inside."

I waited while the sound of his voice trailed off into silence. I waited, while the flames of anger brunt within.

While fear followed them, and guilt.

And grief.

For all that Yuta had said was true, but to hear my own brother tell me those harsh truths, condemning instead of supporting....

To hear my own brother disavowing me as the clan Head....

Fool. From the shadows of my soul, the inner voice rose, sarcastic and sorrowful at the same time. Fools, the both of you.

Quietly, I told him, "So I must cast them out to die." I smiled, a smile which didn't touch my eyes. "And what about me, Yuta?" He gave me a sharp, startled look as those words reached him, and I saw shock clearly marked on his face. Fool, my brother, fool that you are...and fool that I am. Anger rose again, and I used it for strength. I used it to keep my voice steady when I said, "The Sakurazukamori allowed them and I to witness her action as she took Eiji's life. She might as well have marked us, Yuta. All those who see her kill must die, myself included."

He bowed his head that that, and I laughed sadly. He hadn't known, he wasn't the clan Head, and he had never been confronted to the assassin. I didn't give him the time to muster a reply, and went on, "I'm not an irresponsible fool, Yuta, no matter what you or the elders seem to believe. I didn't expect the Shadow to find her preys so quickly, I still don't understand how she managed it. Had I thought that she could, I'd have reinforced the wards much more so than I did, and I'd have kept a watch for her. As it is, I didn't, and Eiji paid the price foe my mistake." I blinked back tears as grief threatened to overwhelm me again, and continued, "I'm not about to allow this house to be turned into a battlefield again, just as I won't allow the clan to be endangered because of me. I know they must leave, Yuta." Quietly, I told my brother, "I know I must leave as well. I wanted to give myself a bit of time to rest before I did so, but it seems that it won't be possible."

"Ane-ue, I--"

I cut him off with a cold smile. "Don't tell me you're sorry, Yuta. I know your heart, I know you are, just as I know that doesn't change a thing in what you believe is the right line of conduct." I saw the stricken look in the chocolate eyes turn into anger, and chuckled inwardly. How easy it is, to move people where you want them to go, if you have the key to their soul. At least, this way my brother wouldn't feel too much guilt about having pushed me to make the decision to leave. Sighing, I told him, "Tomorrow at dawn, we'll leave the mansion. You'll have to care for the household in my place."

He nodded in silence, and wisely refrained from voicing the question that I saw shining in his eyes. Oh no, not the clan, Yuta. I won't relinquish the leadership of the Sumeragi clan to you. I stood up, and said quietly, "If you don't have anything else to discuss, I'll leave you to rest. You must be exhausted after this sleepless night."

Just as I slid the door of the secondary office shut, the faintest of whispers reached my ears, "I'm sorry, ane-ue." I didn't stop, I didn't turn back towards my younger brother. Blinded by tears of anger, guilt and sorrow, I walked away as if I hadn't heard him.

I set down my cup of tea and shook my head in wonder. "You brew a wonderful tea, Shinomori-san." With a smirk, I added, "A bit too good, even Hiroko, my maid, has complained that you've stolen her official position of best tea-brewer in this house."

My teasing words didn't trigger any reaction from the taciturn leader of Oniwabanshu, but elicited an enthusiastic nod of approval from young Makimachi Misao. Letting my eyes unfocus, I stared into emptiness while I wondered how to announce them the result of my discussion with Yuta.

"What's wrong, Tokio-dono? Something must have come up for you to request we gather in this room."

Turning my attention towards Himura Kenshin, I gave him a slow nod. "Yes, something has come up." I took a deep breath and then said, facing each of them in turn, "We must leave this house. This place and the people living in it belong to the Sumeragi clan. As such, they can't be a part of the struggle which opposes us to the Sakurazukamori. There's a balance between the assassin and my family, a balance which has held true for centuries. I cannot, through actions unsanctioned by the council of elders, break that balance. Up until now, I've played with the line, walking right on the edge, but that can't continue, not now that the Sakurazukamori is aware of my little game of hide and seek. No matter what happened, there's no feud between her and the Sumeragi clan. I'm the only one involved, and it must remain so. This means that to preserve my clan, I am forced to rescind my offer of hospitality." Deeply, I bowed, touching my brow to my knees. "I hope you can forgive me for casting you out like this, but I have no choice."

Anger and distress warred into Makimachi Misao's eyes, while Himura Kenshin bowed back to me, imitated by Shinomori Aoshi. I was about to continue, when Hajime's gaze met mine. "But not you, this doesn't involve you, does it?"

"It does," I told him quietly, smiling, "or I'd never have made that decision."

"Damn your brother, this time I--" Naked anger was burning in the Wolf's amber eyes.

I shook my head, interrupting him. "You won't do anything. Yuta simply forced me to see where my duty lies, and he was right to do so. I'd have reached the same decision on my own, only later. The safety of the clan and the keeping of the balance with the Sakurazukamori are of paramount importance. I chose my path when I sheltered you. She's written my name on her list, now that she's let me witness her killing. I must leave as well, lest I bring further harm on this house and on my clan."

A heavy silence followed my words, and then Shinomori Aoshi looked up at me in a slow, deliberate movement. Quietly, he said, "You didn't bring harm on your clan, the assassin did. She alone. You aren't responsible for her actions, it's her arm that kills and brings grief, not yours." A rare smile came to the Oniwabanshu leader's lips as he said, "Your hand heals and protects. You give hope. Without you, Misao would have died. And if you truly need to lay the blame for the assassin's actions, lay it on me who asked for your help without telling you all that I knew and suspected."

Warmth suddenly blossomed inside me, and I bowed deeply once again, silent.

Too moved to talk.

"Yeah, that's true!" Makimachi Misao nodded, a wide grin on her face. "Besides, lodging isn't a problem. Everyone can come back at the Aoiya. Jiiya and the others are all Oniwabanshu, they can fend for themselves, and Tokio-san will be there to protect us from magic!"

Shinomori Aoshi let out an imperceptible sigh, and then nodded as well. "It seems to be the most sensible course of action."

We all dispersed then, everyone having to pack up a few belongings before we could leave. As I stood to exit the room last, an arm unexpectedly encircled my shoulders, and brought me against the man known as the cruel Wolf of Mibu. In a caress full of tenderness, he softly nuzzled my hair, then whispered in my ear, "When all this is over, I'm still giving your brother an introduction to kenjutsu."

I turned my head towards him, to see him grinning at me with a half-threatening, half-playful glint in his eyes. With a shake of my head, I made my lips silently shape the word, and then reached out to him. Resting my bandaged palm against his left cheek, I stood on my toes and kissed him.

I had never found a better way to silence my stupid Wolf.

Widely, I yawned, closing my eyes for a few seconds, and then I took another bite of the sweet potato I had just bought. The street Makimachi Misao and I were walking was very busy at this late morning hours, we had to maneuver around the crowd of people as if we had been fishes going up a powerful river. We had just spent the better part of the last two hours wandering around the rich markets of Kyoto, without buying anything else than the sweets we were eating.

It felt good to idly stroll in the city like this, to be like everyone else if only for a little time. There was nothing particular to do at the Aoiya itself, except give a hand at the restaurant, which the old Okina and the young woman had adamantly refused to let me do when I had offered. I had tried explaining to them that there was no reason to exempt me from work, that I should help where I could, but they'd have none of it. They didn't understand that the request stemmed partly from selfishness: if I could busy myself with work, if I could wear myself out, it rested my mind. If I was exhausted after a busy day, then I could fall asleep like the dead on my futon, and sleep a dreamless sleep.

I yawned again, this time bringing a hand before my mouth to try and cover it, unsuccessfully.

"Are you okay, Tokio-san? It's so early in the day to be tired...."

I waved the young woman's concern away, replying with a smile, "I'm all right, don't worry." While I walked on, I sternly reprimanded my lazy self. I was weary, that was true, but that was a weariness of the spirit, caused by nightmares which robbed me of sleep, and most of all caused by my watching out for the assassin, extending and strengthening the wards I had set around the Aoiya and myself. I was feeling strangely thin: stretching and sharing myself like this was drawing on the core of my being. If only I could have had a true night's sleep to restore my waning strength....

But the nightmares were coming from within, and I couldn't send them away.

I couldn't protect myself from them; harsh Onmyoujutsu discipline was no help, no more than meditation was. Kenjutsu practice only served to release a small part of the constant tension in my body, and free a bit of the emotions which were waiting along the edges of my heart, poised.

Shaking my head to send all those concerns away, I focused on the ceaseless tide of people around me. I focused on the patterns of color on the women's kimonos, on the songs of their voices and on the feeling of them.

Hurry.

The price for those daikon was a bargain.

It's Yuusuke's birthday today.

Strange woman, why is she wearing a man's hakama?

I'm hungry.

Too many people in the streets at this hour.

My knee is hurting, change in the weather.

I wonder if Daisuke likes me.

I smiled inwardly while unraveling myself from the passers-by's auras. It was good to enjoy this short moment of respite, of normality while both Hajime and Shinomori Aoshi were putting their resources to use to try and find out more about those who were involved in this matter.

Abruptly, my reflections were cut short by a warm drop of water which hit my hand. I looked up, and saw dark grey clouds engulfing the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance, while everyone around us proceeded to open their umbrellas.

Then, as if in answer to some secret signal, rain started pouring down. In less than a minute I was soaked to the bone. Following Makimachi Misao's lead as she ran through the crowd, I thought that I understood better now why Hajime kept calling her the weasel girl. She was as nimble as one of the small animals, she had a knack for nipping in and out of the crowd unerringly, never bumping into anyone. Twice I almost lost her, then we at last reached the Aoiya.

"Wow! That's going to be one hell of a thunderstorm!" The young woman exclaimed while she snorted like a horse to get rid of some of the water soaking her. She turned towards me and laughed. "Tokio-san, you should get a look at yourself in a mirror, you're thoroughly drenched!"

I couldn't help chuckling as I nodded. "I can well enough imagine how I look in this moment, don't worry."

We separated in the entrance corridor, and I walked back to my and Hajime's room in order to get a change of clothes. Outside the restaurant, thunder roared and I plugged my ears, closing my eyes on reflex. I had always regarded thunderstorms with wary suspicion, for as far as I could remember.

Thunderstorms were beautiful.

Thunderstorms made my blood tingle.

Thunderstorms fascinated me, and frightened me.

There was a light tap on the room's door, and I let out a soft curse. I had just donned a light yukata and was busy toweling my hair dry. I didn't feel like having a visitor right now. Nevertheless, I nodded. "Yes."

The room's door slid open, just enough to let Hajime come in. After closing it, he stared at me for a few seconds, his face perfectly expressionless, then he grinned. "You were caught in the rain."

I shrugged. "So it would seem."

"If you behaved like a woman and carried an umbrella with you during the rainy season like all sensible women do, you wouldn't get drenched like this." I was about to give him a nasty retort when he walked up to me. Taking the towel from my hands, he finished drying my hair. Gently.

So gently.

His arms wrapped around me, and he brought me against him, whispering in my ear, "You smell of honeysuckle." The soft words echoed within, eclipsing the burning pain which crushed my spine night and day, and somehow freed me, even if only for a short time. Everything but those words and the feeling of their speaker's touch disappeared. I let out a barely audible sigh and closed my eyes, relaxing against him while his lips laid tender kisses against the sides of my neck.

I let go, relishing this brief moment of pure happiness.

The eternity of a heartbeat later, he heaved an almost imperceptible sigh of regret and released me, saying, "I came to fetch you. Shinomori and I got news that you must hear."

I turned to face him, nodding, while lightning illuminated the room. The Wolf's eyes were alight with a cold fire which sent shivers through my body.

Thunder roared, deafening, and I plugged my ears again while my stupid husband was snorting derisively. On impulse, I reached out for my discarded jacket and threw it in his face. Then I stormed out of the room with feigned indignation.

Thanks to some kind god, the storm abated somewhat as everyone got into the meeting room. Once all of us were settled, tea was brought and I breathed mine's perfume, focusing my mind before taking a small sip. Then, Hajime started talking.

"I have nothing new on the true instigator of the murders, but my agents managed to infiltrate the group of Touyama Mitsuru and Hiraoka Koutarou. It seems that those nice gentlemen have decided to shed their nice politicians' guises to start revealing their true colors. They're busy gathering funds for the creation of a new group. All of their speeches are full of the need for Japan to expand and take control of our neighbors if we are to stand on equal footing with the Westerners. They also advocate going back to the old traditional values, which might mean anything." He paused to light himself a cigarette and draw on it. Then he went on, "There's not much in there that we didn't already know, but it confirms the rumors gleaned from the Imperial Palace. Now, what's more interesting is that those people are moving in earnest."

A grin came to the Wolf's face, and he said, "Two days from now, they'll hold a secret meeting for all those they can gather around their cause. It seems this meeting will celebrate the creation of their group, under the name of Gen'Yousha." The amber eyes narrowed, and my husband said with bitter sarcasm plain in his voice, "It's an incredible opportunity to put a stop to al this mess, but no word has been given from above. Even though all that I told you has been dutifully reported, the hierarchy has turned a deaf ear on it."

Himura Kenshin shook his head, saying in a low voice, "They can't be condoning the creation of a terrorist group. It doesn't make sense for the Oligarchs to allow this to happen."

Hajime snorted, drawing again on his cigarette. "It's standard strategy, Battousai, you should know that: allow fools to do the dirty work in your stead and to be blamed for it. Then, harvest the fruit they've caused to ripen." Blowing a long puff of smoke, he added, "I'm not saying that this is what's happening, just that it wouldn't be impossible." Waving the subject away, he continued, "To come back on track, this gathering takes place in two days, and I intend to crush this hatchling before it can break free from the egg shell. Unfortunately, our dear would-be terrorists are suspicious, and I have no idea where this meeting will take place. That's where Shinomori comes in."

Hajime fell silent, and the Oniwabanshu leader nodded. In his usual, impossibly calm voice, he said, "The Oniwabanshu's contact in Muromachi quarter has reported that Touyama Mitsuru sent an underling to rent a small house for a single night, in two days. We're lucky that our informant knew the underling enough to manage gaining the name of his boss." Bowing his head, he sighed. "On the subject of the assassin, we couldn't find anyone in Shimabara matching her description. If she worked there as Taiyuu, nobody knows or remembers her. There's no trace of her in Gion either."

With a cold smile on my lips, I told Shinomori Aoshi, "That's not surprising. The Sakurazukamori not only is a master assassin, but also a master at shaping perfect illusions. It's likely she's still somewhere in Shimabara, unknown and unseen. I don't think it's possible to surprise her in her lair. However, it may be possible to catch her at her own game."

The painter always knows her subjects' hearts. The memory resounded in my heart, reviving the icy fire of hatred in its wake. My smile bared my teeth as I said, "She knows all of us, she claims to have the keys to our souls. That means she knows some of us at least will be present at the gathering organized by Touyama Mitsuru and his friend. She'll be there as well, waiting for us. I intend to do my best not to disappoint her. I'm acting on my own now, she has shed the blood of one of my own, and in so doing she has started a feud between she and I. Now that I have entrusted the care of the Sumeragi mansion to my brother, I'm free from the constraints of the clan. Whatever I do is on my shoulders alone, I am no longer bound by my family's rules. She can't know that."

"Tokio-dono, are you sure?" I looked into Himura Kenshin's violet eyes, and nodded in silence. There no longer was any thought of balance in my mind. I had crossed the line, for good or for ill. With a sigh full of sadness, the red-haired samurai whispered softly, "Then our course of action is set. I won't abandon you this time."

End of Chapter 7.

Notes

Iie: No.
Tamagushi: small branches of sakaki tree decorated with bands of folded white paper, they're used in funerals and offered by each person attending the ceremony.
Funerals: a short note on this matter. The normal funeral ritual would be incineration according to the Buddhist rites, since in Shinto the contact with death is considered as "tainting". However, Shinto rites for funerals do exist. The main difference with a Buddhist rite being that the body of the deceased is buried, not burnt. The emperors were usually buried according to the Shinto rite.
Baka: idiot.
Daikon: it's a vegetable, a kind of big radish widely used in Japanese cuisine.
Muromachi: a quarter of Kyoto, it's this quarter which gave its name to the Muromachi era, because it was chosen by the Ashikaga shogun to install their bakufu there, in a palace named Hana-no-Gosho (bakufu: military government).
Gion: the name of the quarter in Kyoto, where geisha who worked alone and didn't belong to any okiya (house) resided.

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