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Disclaimer: I'm sick of making these up with stupid jokes, so I've created a general version to use: Rurouni Kenshin, and most of the characters related to and featuring in the following fictional story are property of creator and manga artist Watsuki Nobuhiro, and no copyright infringement was intended in any way in the creation of these projects. Used without permission. (and :P to Sony!)

Light of the Snow-Red Village
Part III - Flame of Growth: The Dream of Kenjutsu - Chapter 3

If you put your arms around me
Could it change the way I feel
I guess I let myself believe
That the outside might just bleed its way in
Maybe stir the sleeping past lying under glass
Waiting for the kiss to break this awful spell
Pull me out of this lonely hell
Close my eyes and hold my heart
Cover me and make me something...

She was always saying that. Pay attention, father. Look at me, watch what I do. He grew tired of it, sometimes. Sometimes, he wanted to tell her so.

For there was not one moment when he wasn't watching her, in his heart, in his mind, in his soul.

"Aa, ume-chan," he said instead, a small smile on his marred face. "Your form is very good, but you need to relax more. Are you tired?"

Hikari pursed her lips, the shinai balanced easily in front of her, and slowly shook her head. "Iie. Gatsu-sensei used to push me a lot harder."

Kenshin chuckled, the gentle criticism easily recognized in her voice, and just as easily dismissed. "Sumanei; I'm not a very good teacher, you know. Too gentle, my own master used to say. Too soft."

His daughter shook her head again, her dark hair swishing against the back her training gi. "It's not that. You're a good teacher, tousan... gentleness isn't a bad thing."

He settled back against the tree he leaned against, letting out a quiet, wind-soft sigh. "I never said it was..."

"Then don't act like you think so!" she retorted, smiling playfully and turning away, back to her exercises. "Either watch me or watch our dinner; don't just sit there staring at nothing."

Shaking his head lightly as she began to practice, his gaze flitted to the fish cooking on the small fire before him. It had taken the better part of the day to catch their meal, and Hikari was getting bored of the repetitiveness of her exercises. She wanted to learn something new, he could tell, and he had nothing to give to her.

Nothing he was willing to give, rather. He grimaced at the reminder, painfully recalling their continuing argument. Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu was a harsh, strenuous, and demanding technique, and the things his shishou had put him through he was clearly unwilling to even try to place on Hikari. They were a great number of months and even more so in miles away from Gatsu's dojo and the lessons she had received on a daily basis, each one showing her something new in a world she knew nothing about. The world of kenjutsu was, fortunately, one of massive, uncounted possibilities, with techniques varying in shape and form as one traveled from school to school. There were many places in the country they wandered in where they could visit, and learn, and pass on, to be forgotten or remembered, whatever those they left behind chose to do. He was beginning to think that Hikari's growing knowledge of the warriors of their world would surpass even his, and soon.

Her technique was changing, he was gradually realizing. It changed, melded in something completely different, and yet still the same, with each new school they visited. Even if it was no more than a simple move — a defense, and attack, anything she could learn in the time they remained in the town — it altered her growing technique into something new, something strange and almost absurd.

It would have been absurd — this terrible, uncoordinated ravaging of so many techniques into one — had she not been equally, absurdly good at it.

She was, he had noticed, watching her. She had inherited more than just his puzzling, deadly talent for the blade; she had gained his skill of seeing a technique, once, twice, whatever it took, and taking it to heart, remembering it for what it was, recognizing it when she saw it the next time.

And it was uncanny how — beyond his skill and knowledge and even the most extreme expectations he had of her — she could, after seeing it enough, trying it sometimes, take that technique and meld it into her own, as she had done since they left Gatsu's school, since they had begun traveling again with a new purpose, a new goal; to learn.

He fingered the sword at his side, the worn leather wrapping scraping slightly against his callused skin. He wondered it she knew what the school he had mastered and used for so long had given him, in return. What grief he had gained because of it. He also wondered, briefly, if it really mattered to her.

The memory still came fresh to him sometimes; of her small arms, warm and forgiving around him, of her tears in the dark shadow of night as she cried out, painfully, achingly, the question that had broken his heart a thousand times over.

Why indeed, he had echoed. In his mind, in the heart and soul that always watched her, whether it was breaking or not. Or, even, if it lay in pieces on the floor of his very essence, to be picked up, mended by slow patience and the ebb and flow of time, to be broken again, and again...

He blinked, realizing that his thoughts could be easily read in his eyes, and brushed them away, turning instead to the fish. They were finished now; he had managed to pull himself back in time to salvage them. He sent a short, secret glance to Hikari, to see if she'd noticed his wandering, but her concentration was on the constant improvement of her art.

It could really be called her art now, he mused. She had made it her own, in more ways than one.

"Dinnertime, ume-chan," he called, and she dropped her position from an attack stance and hurried over, driven by hunger more easily than by determination. Still a child, his mind told him, and part of his heart — the watcher, the protector — echoed the thought happily.

A small, hidden part of him wept. He hadn't figured out why, and had rather chosen to push it further down. The longer she remained as she was, the longer she could be protected from what life had thrown him into, as one tosses aside a chain that had held freedom back for too long, as ignorant foreigners discard what they cannot understand or is suddenly useless to them. The longer he could keep her from feeling what he had felt, sometimes.

He took a bite of the fish, decided it was well done — albeit somewhat bland — and tried hard not to think of a time when food had never been this good, when it had been scarce and tasteless, and then, when it had been a pleasure beyond belief, senses flaming with surprise and delight as flavours he had never experienced before appeared on his tongue, even as his astonished happiness was the source of joy for a woman, so like... so like...

He tried hard not to think of it, and succeeded, eventually. This time such thoughts did not reach his eyes.

She really was getting too good for him, he thought ruefully. She didn't notice when his thoughts were showing so obviously on his face, and when he hid them carefully from her, she had to ask.

He blinked, suddenly, and realized why. "Nothing, really. I was thinking... of where we should go next, maybe."

Hikari frowned, thinking intently for a moment. "We've been just about everywhere, haven't we?"

Kenshin smiled inwardly, but did not answer. 'Everywhere, ume-chan, but the one place I have sworn never to return to. Not with you... not with anyone.'

"We could go back to Hokkaido." she suggested after a moment. "We haven't been there for years, and I don't remember it very well."

"Tousan, it's almost spring." she scowled, shaking her head. "By the time we reach it, it'll be midsummer, and way warmer than it is now. We'll probably welcome the cold."

Kenshin chuckled, eyes enigmatic. "Aa, there is that. It really doesn't matter to me; if you wish to go to Hokkaido, then that is where we'll go." He paused, eyes lowered, then brightened up again. "Where would we stay? Asahikawa? Kushiro?"

Before Hikari had a chance to answer, a loud, terror-filled scream tore through the air. Kenshin was on his feet in a second, sword in hand, and Hikari followed quickly. "Wha-what was that?" she whispered, fingering the shinai.

Kenshin slid the sakabatou through his hakama ties, eyes narrowed. "Someone is being attacked, not far from here. Stay close to me, ume-chan. If they come-"

"Let them!" Hikari suddenly interrupted, a sharp challenge in her voice. The shinai swung out to stand in front of her, defensive and dangerous at the same time. Kenshin looked at her in surprise. "I'm bored of just sitting around, doing nothing. Let them come!"

Kenshin grimaced, and was about to tell her differently, that she was not to fight, and most certainly not to put herself in danger, when swift footsteps halted his thoughts and brought his mind back to the very danger he wished her safe from, as it burst through the trees.

A young man, dark hair short-cropped and falling in front of his eyes, rushed into the clearing, stark terror in his eyes and blood on his clothing. He caught sight of them, taking a brief moment to notice the shinai and Kenshin's sword, and gasped fearfully, backing away from them.

"Wait," Kenshin called after him, senses extending to determine where his enemies were, "Who is chasing you? We're not going to hurt you."

The man hesitated, but it was the voices at his back that made him run to them. He still kept his distance, watching Kenshin carefully, but most of his attention was on the trees beyond them. "... Sa... samurai. Local yakuza members. I..." he trailed off, looking pained. "I made a mistake."

"Many do," Kenshin replied, turning back to the woods. "Don't fear any danger from us. We'll help you, if we can."

Slowly, Kenshin drew his sword, placing himself in front of his daughter. When it became clear to him that she didn't intend to stand by and do nothing, he sighed inwardly and glanced back. "Hikari-chan... watch over our friend here. If they're after him, and they're particularly tenacious, they may get past me."

He took comfort in her trust in him, and let the calm of battle take him as a group of armed fighters appeared through the trees.

'Ten, eleven...' Kenshin grimaced, counting silently and they approached, coldly surveying the smaller group. 'A bit of an overkill, against one unarmed man.'

"Stand aside, samurai," one of them called out, leveling his sword at Kenshin's head. "It's not you we are here for."

"Do you think that matters to me?" Kenshin responded quickly. "You intend to do him harm, do you not?"

"It does. This man has requested my aid, and I will give it if I can. What do you want?"

The swordsman merely laughed, muscles rippling beneath his tunic. He was a rather large man, several feet taller than Kenshin. "I want his life, and I doubt a little stripling like yourself can do anything about it. I suggest you take the girl and walk away."

The man glared at her, then looked back at Kenshin. "Doesn't the girl know better than to interrupt? Bad etiquette, that is."

"So is attacking a man in cold blood," Kenshin retorted, equally chilling. "Perhaps you should considering leaving instead. It will go better for you, I assure you."

Laughter again, as the swordsman started forward. "You are brave, boy, and you have some spirit. But don't throw your life away for someone you've just met."

"I don't like fighting," Kenshin said quietly, "However, I can recognize an unfair battle when I see one. I may not seem much to you, but I give the man behind me a better chance for survival. That is enough for me."

His opponent stopped laughing, and stared at him with the eyes of a man familiar with the blade. "I love fighting," he replied honestly, the smile fading from his lips, "And I am prepared to kill you now. Give me a good fight, and I promise to leave the girl alive."

He disappeared, then, and Kenshin feinted left, swinging his sword downward, and met the strike that would have taken his legs. Jumping into the air, he flipped away and charged, striking the man's back and knocking him to the ground.

There was a brief silence in the clearing, as both yakuza thugs and the man they had chased stared at Kenshin.

He flipped his sword nonchalantly and sheathed it, turning back to the remaining foes. "Well?" he asked, almost expectantly.

They looked amongst each other, shell-shocked for a moment, then charged, anger rising in their voices. Kenshin made a worn, knowing sigh, and flew forward to meet them, sakabatou unsheathing in a Battoujutsu attack. The remaining yakuza fell with frightening ease, scrambling like frightened ants to escape the ex-hitokiri's power.

He saw him, felt him pass, and closed his eyes, slamming his sheath into the last man. He heard Hikari's fierce cry, then the collision of bamboo against skin and bone. His heart stilled in that second, and only started again — long, impossibly long — when the silence returned, and he could hear, in the background, Hikari's soft breathing.

He let out a long, shuddering sigh, half his soul rejecting what he had done, the other half rejoicing at his strength — or weakness — that had allowed her to fight. He turned to her, and found that there was a smile on his face. The man had not even been able to draw his sword.

She grinned back at him, cheerful as always. "Arigato... for both, tousan." She wondered, then, if he knew what she was talking about. One look into his eyes, however, and she saw that he understood.

He turned to the man behind them, sheathing the sakabatou and returning it to its place at his waist. "Now that we are no longer troubled by these men, perhaps you can explain to us who you are and why they were after you?"

The man pursed his lips, hesitating, then finally nodded. "Hai. My name is Asuhara Heiji. I'm a shopkeeper from the town just north of here. Thank you for saving my life; it's not worth much, but if you need shelter, food, or anything, I'd be glad to have you for a companion." He bobbed his head to Hikari, after a moment. "You as well, child."

Hikari perked up at the mention of a meal; and Kenshin smiled inwardly even as part of his soul was torn with guilt.

Pushing such thoughts aside, he brought his attention back to Heiji. "And as for my second question?"

The man laughed nervously, brushing a hand through his dark hair and taking a stumbling step backwards. He was silent again.

"I'm sorry for running from you," Heiji finally answered, and smiled softly at them. "I saw your sword, and... your hair, as well, and I panicked. I thought you were with them."

Kenshin frowned, one hand reaching up to touch his topknot. "Is carrying a sword so uncommon these days?"

He watched them as they stared at him expectantly, and suddenly he chuckled. "You really don't know? Swords were banned, over a year ago. Ever since Katsura died."

Heiji nodded. "And with him, the samurai class. They have all been ordered to cut their topknots, become gentlemen." There was a soft underlying of bitterness in the man's voice. "Anyone caught carrying a sword — besides certain policemen — are arrested and charged. I'm surprised you've been able to remain ignored and uninformed all this time."

Kenshin was only half listening, silent for a long time. He wanted to fall, wanted to fall and keep falling until he was away, far away from that place. Far away from the words, spoken so easily, yet so angrily, and all the future fears that came with it.

"I will stop it, Himura. I swear to you now, you will not be hunted like an animal in exchange for all you have done for us."

'And he did. He did, even though I did not trust him, did not trust the words and all he stood for, any longer.'

'Is it? Is it really? Without Katsura to stand in their way... will they suddenly find the need to finish what they started?'

'If swords are banned... if I must throw away my sakabatou... how will I protect myself? Protect Hikari?'

"I..." he stammered, voice husky and faltering. "I did not know. Truly, I did not."

Heiji nodded again, eyes dark and fierce. "I can guess why. You're a wanderer, aren't you? That's the only reason I can think of. And... you avoid civilization, as well?" Kenshin blinked, surprised by the man's quickness and understanding. "Come with me. We can return to my town, and I can tell you more. You deserve at least an explanation, I suppose, for saving me."

Kenshin agreed numbly, and they began to weave a slow but steady path through the woods, leaving the unconscious yakuza behind on the grass.

A hand was suddenly in his, small and warm. "Tousan, are you okay?" Hikari inquired, her voice soft and concerned.

She watched him doubtfully, then turned back to the road without another word. Her hand, however, squeezed his gently. There was comfort to be taken from that, as well.

Heiji's shop ended up as a modest but cozy establishment that made a simple business selling imported western goods. As Hikari darted through the aisles, delighted at all the differences between cultures, Kenshin and Heiji settled themselves in the back, within calling distance. After he had bandaged the small sword gash across his left arm and changed out of his dirty, blood-streaked clothes, Heiji set about making tea, and Kenshin leaned back in a small, yet surprisingly comfortable western chair, his sword balanced between his knees, listening to Hikari's astonished cries.

Heiji passed him a cup of steaming liquid, sitting down across from him. "I don't suppose you've ever been around here before."

Kenshin shook his head. "Iie, never to this town. It's been a long time since I was this far south."

Heiji smiled. "You'd be better off staying right here and not going further south, too. You may have not known about Katsura, but you must know about the Seinan War?"

This time, Kenshin nodded, lips curving downward in distaste. "Aa, I know of it. I did not take part, however. I've had enough of pointless battles."

The other man chuckled. "True enough. There's a lot of fighting going on that isn't really necessary, isn't there."

"About that." Kenshin leaned forward, placing the cup on a small table beside his chair. "How did Katsura die? Was it the war?"

"That was part of it." Heiji shrugged. "I heard he was overworked, or something along those lines. Right in the midst of the war, too."

Kenshin lowered his head, thoughts turmoiled. 'So... in the end, even Katsura-san has fallen... who then, are my allies? Or... my enemies...' "It is... strange... that I never heard about the sword legislation. Often in my travels, when such things occur I find out very fast. Hikari-chan... she seems to learn about everything." He smiled musingly, then blinked. "Hikari... could she have learned about this and not told me? I'm sure she wouldn't want me to throw away my sword... but surely she knows..." '... she knows that I would never let go of what is needed to protect her...'

Heiji frowned. "I think you're jumping at shadows, Himura-san. I get the feeling she can't hide much from you."

The swordsman laughed in response. "Sometimes I wonder. Still, it would be unusual... though it doesn't really matter. I know now."

"So..." Heiji hesitated, curious yet cautious. "What will you do, now that you know?"

Kenshin reached down for his sword, placing one palm atop of the pommel. "I will do as I have always done," he answered quietly. "I am a swordsman, and a wanderer. No laws can change that."

He stood, stepping towards the table to pour himself more tea, and Kenshin watched his movements, eyes narrowed. Finally, as Heiji returned to his chair, he spoke up, voicing his internal questions.

Heiji froze, turning to look at him. Kenshin's eyes were set and focused, a carefully hidden caution visible in his expression. The shopkeeper sighed, sinking down into his chair. "How'd you know?"

"The way you move... you hide it well, but there is something about it that indicates you're familiar with the blade." He ran his fingers down the hilt of the sakabatou, familiar leather wearing beneath his skin. "As if you're carrying a sword that is visible only to you."

Brushing a hand through his hair, Heiji hung his head, sighing even more loudly. "It was inevitable, I think; someone was bound to notice. Hell, someone already has..."

Kenshin leaned forward. "Is that why those yakuza were chasing you this afternoon? Because they wish to recruit you?"

Heiji took a long drink from his tea, stared at it for a moment, reconsidering, and then left the room. When he returned, he carried a jug of sake and two cups. Kenshin's mouth quirked a little, and he accepted a cup graciously. Heiji drank two cups before settling back, staring into a third blankly. "I think it was... six months ago, perhaps, when I arrived here for the first time in years. This was my home for nearly all my life — all the time I can remember, anyway — and I was so relieved to return. My father's business had still been open, but he was getting too old and sick to run it properly. I discovered that I was quite good at it, and so over time he placed it in my keeping. He died soon after. I began introducing new merchandise... Western furniture and accessories, things that people have never seen before. It was very popular, and I was doing well..." he let out another long, painful sigh. "I had forgotten about the yakuza. They've been here for as long as I remember; they're everywhere, these days."

Kenshin grimaced in disgusted agreement. "And they are all equally difficult to deal with."

"That is also true." Heiji nodded. "They... they came to me, several weeks ago, knowing — I have no idea how — that I am a swordsman. I fought during the Restoration, and remained with the government until the Seinan War broke out. I... I had had enough of fighting. I wanted to continue on peacefully... somewhere far away."

Kenshin could relate to that. "Aa... sometimes it is too much to bear, and an escape is needed."

Heiji looked curiously at him for a moment, then smiled. "Yeah. I guess they believed I had found some secret skill during the war... they came to me and offered — politely, they said — a position in their gang. Of course I refused; enough is enough. And I know how they work. But... that's the problem. I do know how they work, and I fear for my family. They've already been forced into hiding... all because of those greedy fools."

Kenshin frowned, intensely puzzled. "If you are a skilled swordsman, then why were you running from them so fearfully? I can understand that you were unarmed and were unable to fight... but you seemed as if they were intent on killing, not recruiting you."

Heiji laughed nervously, one hand behind his head. "Well... that was me, trying my hand at fooling the lot. Maybe if they see me as a coward and a weakling, they'll give up on me and leave my family alone. They wouldn't have caught me; I can run much faster than they could."

Kenshin narrowed his eyes. "Knowing this, you chose to accept my help, placing myself and my daughter in danger without knowing our skill?"

Heiji sobered up, his smile fading. "I can understand your anger... but remember, I didn't ask for your help. I'm grateful, whether I needed it or not. And... with your sword, you would most likely have become involved as soon as you entered the town. Trust me — these yakuza are relentless. They would have found you out."

Grumbling at his stubbornness, Heiji shrugged. "Fine, yes I did. I hoped that you were a man who didn't carry a weapon without knowing how to use it. You didn't prove me wrong."

Kenshin closed his eyes, holding back a sigh. It wasn't a lie, and he was ever grateful for the skill that allowed him to protect Hikari. However, being blatantly taken advantage of was not something he enjoyed. "Why did you invite me here?"

"I already told you." Heiji answered easily. "An explanation, which I have given. A meal, which I have yet to cook, since you've been distracting me. A good night's sleep, perhaps, if you need it. Shall I go on?"

Kenshin finally loosed a smile, chuckling softly. "Iie; you seem as if you could go on all night. And since I am such a stirring distraction, will you accept my help in preparing dinner?"

Heiji grinned, and motioned towards the kitchen. After a moment's hesitation, and a glance in Hikari's direction, he followed.

Kenshin stood poised in the streets later that night, visible only in moonshine and starlight. His sword was at his belt, sheathed and waiting for its next use. There had been many weapons at his waist over the years; katana, wakizashi, sakabatou... even a tanto had been hidden there for a short time. At the last thought, he grimaced, as it brought back memories he didn't very much care for. Each weapon, though, had served its purpose; to cut, to conquer.

Slowly, he drew the sword out, staring at it for a long moment. A purpose. He winced again, for a different reason. A different purpose.

Curving his neck, he reached his other hand behind him to tug free the knotted string that held back his topknot, letting it fall unbound around him. He grasped a fistful of soft, ember-coloured hair, bringing it over his shoulder to lay in front of him, still fisted into a tail without its former restraints. He pulled the sword up, resting against his hair.

'It's just hair, after all. I can't draw so much attention to myself... a topknot will be such an obvious indication of rebellion...'

'Besides the sword at your side,' another voice hissed viciously in his mind. He silenced it.

He stood there, motionless, for a long time. Briefly he thought about how strange he must seem, if anyone happened to be watching; still as a statue, a sword raised against his hair, so perilously close to his neck...

His sword hand dropped, and the hair fell with it. He let it drop, sprawling against his navy coloured gi with a short, barely audible sigh. Still connected. Still reluctant.

He sheathed the sword again, and fingered the hair tie wrapped around his wrist. Considering it for a moment, he reached back up, gathering the loose strands between his fingers, and tied it — not in a samurai topknot, the outlawed hairstyle of the past — low, against his neck, a strange defiance of the authority he had respected many years ago. Strange, truly.

He smiled, suddenly. 'Truly, I must have looked odd. A rebel samurai, ready to kill himself in the middle of the night, then changing his mind and switching his hairstyle. What an puzzling thing to happen in the evening.'

Still smiling, amused for no apparent reason, he turned and went inside, returning to the room Heiji had given to Hikari and himself for the night. Let the morning come, whatever odd murmurings came with it. He hadn't, really, done anything wrong.

Despite feeling fairly confident of his decision, Kenshin found that Hikari was positively aghast with him that morning. She immediately reached up, pulling at the ties to fix it, fiercely believing that the way he slept was not proper in order to keep his appearance regular. She really did like the topknot, he mused, smiling as she tackled him in their room after he had woken her up. Heiji entered after a moment, finding them sprawled across the floor, Hikari still reaching futilely with hands that could quite possibly pull his hair out.

"Umm..." Heiji eyed them for a moment, as they looked up at him, speechless. "Breakfast?" he finished weakly, smiling.

Hikari shot Kenshin a look that made him wince — again — and bounded out, hurrying towards the table down the stairs. Heiji glanced at Kenshin, utterly baffled. "What was that?"

"That," Kenshin stood, sorely rubbing his abused scalp, "Was a daughter that seems to be greatly fixed on the samurai life. I don't think she'll believe me if I tell her what's happened. I don't understand what the problem is... I'm lucky I didn't cut it..."
Heiji grinned. "Oh, so that's what you were doing last night. I was actually going to ask you why you didn't cut it; I suppose I have the answer now."

Kenshin shook his head, brushing dust from his gi uncomfortably. "Perhaps if I start tying her hair like that, she'll be happy. It's not a problem with a girl, is it?"

"Girl samurai?" Heiji raised an eyebrow, laughing. "Unlikely. That one is certainly not a geisha, and she will most definitely not be a problem. Tell me, why is she so interested in being a swordsman — woman, rather?"

Kenshin grimaced. "That, I'm afraid, is my fault, mostly. I'll tell you during breakfast — if she doesn't decide to tackle me again..."

She didn't. In fact, she was quite content to eat peaceably, contributing a great deal more to the story than Kenshin did. She happily told him of his skills against Shinzo — her voice was easily distasteful as she described her rival, of sort — but, true to her promise, she didn't tell Heiji about Kenshin's identity. 'Past identity,' he corrected himself quickly. 'No sense in mixing past and present.'

"Interesting story," Heiji murmured after they had finished, taking a deep drink of his tea. "So you've traveled around searching for different techniques to make your own. You are a very unique kendo student, Hikari. Where are you headed next?"

"Hokkaido!" Hikari answered immediately, between mouthfuls of rice and noodles. "When it's warm."

Heiji leaned back, stretching. "Well, I must admit you've been very helpful to me — despite what you might think, Himura-san." Kenshin frowned. "I also have to tell you that while I am a swordsman, I am nowhere near your skill level. I don't know why the yakuza have targeted me, but I want to find out, and put a stop to it. I have a proposal for you: I am willing to teach Hikari, for a time, if you are willing to remain here and help to protect my business, and perhaps investigate why they are after me."

Kenshin's eyes narrowed. "Wouldn't the police be better off for a job like that?"

Heiji rolled his eyes. "Please. The policemen in this town are practically led by the yakuza. They'd be no help at all. I need someone independent, with his own sense of justice. And your daughter can have some training in the process. It's free food, free board, and free training... in return, I just need your sword skills. What do you say?"

Hikari stood, staring intently at him. "I told you, tousan, I don't care! I want to fight. I want to test myself! How else can I learn?"

She scowled. "Tousan, haven't you been listening? I won't be the one going against the yakuza, you will. And if I can take them down, then of course you can! They'll be no problem at all, and then we can be back on the road for Hokkaido in no time at all. And I'll have some new skills. Don't worry so much."

' "Don't worry so much", ume-chan? It is fears like this that have protected you all this time. Life in a world of caution is what has kept us alive.' "Ume-chan..."

She shook her head. "Don't pull that on me, tousan. Baby nicknames aren't going to change my mind. Now, are you going to agree or not?"

"Hikari." He raised his voice, and there was a subtle warning within his words. She hesitated, realizing just then that she had gone far past her limits of authority. He gazed at her for a long moment, eyes unreadable, and she stared back uneasily. Finally, he stood up, turning away to leave. "I will think on this. Don't ask anything more from me."

They watched him as he disappeared, and there was a brief silence. Suddenly smiling, Heiji turned to Hikari. "Hey kid, ever played a Western game?"

Kenshin sat alone in his room, curled against the wall with his sword propped up between his knees. His hands clutched at the sword, shaking slightly, and his jaw was set, lined with anger.

'And she... doesn't she understand? Doesn't she know what danger and pain are like?'

'Why... why do they always patronize me... use her against me that way... Sao, Gatsu, and now this man... they only wish to teach her, but to use what they know against me... dammit, why?'

In the room just below him, a short, loud burst of laughter broke out from Heiji, followed by Hikari's joyous giggles. His mouth quirked a little, fighting back a smile. For once, he didn't need the distraction he normally welcomed.

He brushed a hand through his hair in weary frustration, wondering what to do. Heiji was clearly skilled enough to attract the attention of the yakuza, but not enough to keep himself alive against so many men.

He remembered her eyes, facing off with the swordsmen who had come for Heiji the day before.

He blinked, astonished. 'Tomoe... Tomoe was like that. Determined, so assured... I could not disagree with her, nor did I want to...'

He closed his eyes, a sharp pain in his chest. Slowly, he raised himself up, against his will, against his better judgement, and left to give those waiting below his answer.