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Disclaimer: *looks at birth certificate* Hm... I see an "a"... and an "r"... ooh, and "i" as well... and that's where the similarities end. Nope, I am definitely not Watsuki Nobohiro, ^_^;; As such, I did not create Rurouni Kenshin. And until he's willing to sell it for *checks wallet* $5.61 Canadian, I don't own it either.

Light of the Snow-Red Village
Part V - Flickering Shadows: Oak in the Breeze - Chapter 3

Several hours passed before Zanza awoke, and when he did, it was in unfamiliar surroundings. It took him a long moment to regain his bearings, but as his eyesight gradually returned, he looked up and met dark, concerned violet eyes staring back at him.

He jumped back, surprised and wary, and felt a sharp lance of pain run up and down his side. Gingerly, he touched his lower chest, feeling what must have been a deep bruise from the impact that probably knocked him out. He turned back to the one watching him, and was surprised to find that it was not his opponent from before, but the young girl who had followed them to the battlefield.

She blinked back at him, scrutinizing his overall condition, before suddenly breaking into a small smile. "You're awake," she noted gently, "That's good. You've been out for a while. How do you feel?"

He didn't answer right away, still watching her with a single eyebrow raised. Finally, he spoke. "Where the hell am I?"

"Well you don't have to swear," she scolded, although her smile widened into a grin. "You're at the dojo. Tousan said we should bring you back here to get your injuries treated. A doctor came by and had a look at you, and you'll probably be really sore for a while, but you should recover with no problem at all."

The girl shrugged. "Why not?" she countered. "It wasn't like we could just leave you there. Tousan felt bad about you being so hurt because of him. The least we could do is make sure you get treatment."

"Idiot," he muttered between his teeth, surprising her. "I was hired to fight him. He's done the stupidest thing I've ever seen by bringing me here."

"How come?" the girl asked, and he blinked. "What are you going to do, attack us when we're not looking? I don't think you'd really do something like that, would you?"

Zanza turned back to her, confused. "Then..." His eyebrows suddenly shot down again in fierce alarm. "Where is he?" he demanded. "Where is the Battousai?"

"Tousan?" Her smile faded. "He left to take care of the Hiruma brothers. He should be back soon... and then you won't have any reason to fight him any longer. They didn't pay you yet, right? And it's not like they'll escape from jail again."

He merely scowled in response. "Of course," he muttered, "Leave it to a damned Ishin Shishi to go after the leaders before dealing with the enemy in front of them. That sneaky konoyarou..."

The girl was silent for a long time, and he wondered vaguely if she was either ignoring him or couldn't think of anything to say. Then, he heard it.

He turned to her, lips curving into a frown of apology, even as he wondered why he should apologize, and caught the sight of glimmering tears in her eyes, hidden slightly by her ebony bangs. She noticed him watching her, and slowly raised her head, gazing at him with a pained expression on her face. Her eyes were black, he realized.

"Why?" she finally murmured, letting the tears fall without shame. She either did not notice or did not care. "Why does everyone... everyone... have to hate him?"

Zanza stared back at her, speechless and still a little guilty. Out of the many things he simply couldn't stand, a girl crying was definitely up there.

"He's spent years trying to make up for what he's done," she continued, her eyes blinking rapidly against the wetness behind them. "And he's always been sorry for it! That's what we're wandering for! He doesn't need to know another person that wants to kill him!"

Her small fists suddenly clenched, curling tightly into her yukata, and she stood, glaring at him accusingly. "He didn't kill you," she cried, her head shaking back and forth, "He hasn't killed anyone! Not since the war! He could have done anything he wanted to you - but he got you a doctor! He made sure that you were going to be okay! What kind of enemy does that? Would you have done that?"

Zanza looked away briefly, finding the vehemence of a nine-year old somewhat disconcerting. "I told you he was an idiot," he muttered, without the anger his voice had carried before.

Her hands trembled, and he thought that she might hit him. She certainly looked tempted. "You..." she grit her teeth, taking a step back. "I don't know what my father could have done in the Revolution to make you so angry... but you have no right to call him Battousai when you know nothing about him!"

Kenshin watched her for a long moment, taking in the sight before him. Hikari's breath escaped in sharp, heaving gasps, the tears still forming small, wet tracks down her face. Finally breaking the moment, Kenshin reached out to try and wipe a tear from her cheek, but she batted his hand away and pushed past him, disappearing down the hall. He seemed torn between following her and dealing with the man who still sat inside, observing his every move.

Zanza watched the former hitokiri's back like a hawk, wary of the man's reaction. Slowly, Kenshin turned and knelt beside Zanza's futon, his eyes clear and unreadable. There was an impenetrable silence in the room.

"I think," Kenshin finally said, his voice calm, yet stern, "That we had best talk for a while."

He refused to show it in his outward appearance, but deep within his mind, Kenshin was furious. This man, this opponent who had fought for such dishonest men as the Hiruma brothers, had done something, said something, that was enough to make Hikari cry.

The sight itself was so unusual that it made Kenshin's mind swirl with anxious wonder. Hikari rarely cried if she could help it, and when she did, it was within his presence where she knew he would be able to give her some comfort. That comfort was a mutual sharing between them, and this was the first time she had ever run from his touch.

He held himself away from Zanza as Hikari fled down the hallway, reining in his anger that would most certainly bring a similar reaction from the street fighter. That wasn't the sort of confrontation he had returned for. When he was certain his face did not betray his emotions, he spun around and sat down, facing the one who had, earlier that evening, issued a challenge that might have ended in a death, had he allowed it.

"I won't ask you what you said to her that would make her cry," he started, struggling to keep his anger restrained. "Hikari does not cry at trivial things, in all the years I have known her. But know this: A father is never happy to see his child in tears. I won't tolerate something like that again."

Kenshin's eyes narrowed. "No," he said bluntly, but did not volunteer any more information.

The street fighter was left puzzled. During his trip to Kyoto, he had learned a great deal about the Hitokiri Battousai, as well as the man he had become since the revolution. But very few of the rumours mentioned a significant other, ranging from whore, to lover, to wife, and not one of them had mentioned a child as a result of such a relationship.

"As I said before, I simply wish to talk," Kenshin continued after a lengthy pause.

"Talk?" Zanza raised an eyebrow in response, his teeth clenched together. "I got nothing to say to an Ishin Shishi like you."

"Does it look like I work for the government, Zanza?" Kenshin retorted, his patience loosening its hold for a moment. "Does it look like I have earned great riches from doing the Meiji's duty these past years?"

Zanza blinked in surprise, taking in the rurouni's ragged appearance and dark, weary eyes. He didn't reply.

Kenshin gazed at him for a long time, and it was he who broke the silence yet again. "What do you want from me?" he asked.

"What do you want?" Kenshin repeated, palms upturned in his lap. "I have nothing. I am not part of the Ishin Shishi - I have not been for a long time, if I ever truly was in the eyes of the politicians who recruited me - and I knew nothing about the betrayal of the Sekihoutai, if that is the answer you would give to me."

The street fighter's lips twisted in a snarl, and he raised his fist, enraged. "Why you-"

"I was right, then," Kenshin interrupted, his voice softening. "You were part of the Sekihoutai."

"Still am," Zanza corrected bitingly. "It's only your damn government who got rid of the rest. They did such a good job, didn't they? I'm surprised they didn't send a hitokiri."

The last remark was meant to wound, and it did in some manner, but Kenshin refused to allow himself to react. Instead, he answered with a shake of his head, "My government? Do you know what the job of Hitokiri Battousai was in the Ishin revolution?"

"And the rumours of your nightmarish aku ichimonji hanten are highly exaggerated," Kenshin replied, earning another surprised glance. "Nothing is as obvious as it may seem, Zanza. You should remember that. Hitokiri Battousai was an assassin, certainly, as well as a guard for many of the officials who made crucial decisions throughout the years, but he has not, and has never been, one of those men who decide the future of this country. He is of no more importance than, perhaps, a government army consisting of innocent peasants who were deceived by the men they trusted in."

Zanza glared back at him, fists clenched tightly. "But you weren't..." he trailed off, his eyes incensed.

"I wasn't what?" Kenshin asked, arms crossing in front of his chest. "Betrayed? Assassinated? Hunted as if I had done something wrong?" At the other man's astonishment, he lifted a single eyebrow. "Do you think you're the only one that was considered a threat to the Meiji government?"

Finally, he said quietly, "I'm going to tell you something that is not just common knowledge. No one knows of this except my daughter and the men who run the government you claim as mine."

The street fighter scowled again. "And why should I believe you'd trust me with this secret of yours?"

Shaking his head, Kenshin opened his eyes to face him. "This is not a matter of trust; it is simply what I do not wish to tell often. Even Hikari - my daughter - didn't know until a few weeks ago. I'm telling you this only so you understand that your reasons for this battle should be reconsidered before we go on."

"So... how is he?" Kaoru asked nervously, glancing at the doctor across from her.

Genzai shrugged, sipping at his tea. "He should recover with no lasting injuries. Kenshin-san seems to have a great deal of control over his sword."

Kaoru fidgeted, nodding briefly. "Hai, he does." 'He would have to, wouldn't he? Who he is... what he does... control is always required in a swordsman.'

The doctor finished his tea, standing up. "Well, I had best be on my way. I'll need rest if I'm going to work later."

"Ah, I'm sorry for calling you out so late, Genzai-sensei," Kaoru apologized, standing up to walk him out.

He waved her off. "Don't worry, Kaoru-chan. This is what I'm here for. But you had best get that child back to bed. I don't know why she insisted on watching him..."

Kaoru smiled, shaking her head. "That's Hikari for you. She's probably doing what Kenshin would do if he had been here. You're right, though... now that Kenshin is back, she should get to sleep. I'll send Yahiko; he's been doing nothing all night."

She moved towards the dozing boy who lay sprawled in the corner, nudging him with her foot. "Yahiko, you lazy slug, get up!"

Kaoru's eyebrow twitched irritably. Carefully, she picked up the teapot... and upended it over his head.

Yahiko sprang up instantly, rubbing his hair free of the scalding water. "Ite!" he growled, "What was that for?! I was getting up!"

"Sure," Kaoru replied skeptically. "Before you go back to sleep, go and find Hikari and tell her to get to bed. Don't forget we have practice tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, yeah..." Yahiko scratched at his still-stinging head and trudged down the hallway. As he passed the room that Kenshin and Hikari shared, he caught a soft, muffled sound.

He winced, recognizing the voice as Hikari's. Hesitating, he leaned his ear against the shoji, listening intently for a long moment.

Yahiko grimaced, pulling away from the door. He hated to hear the sound of a girl crying. It brought back memories of his mother, when the knowledge of how wrong her lifestyle was, how painful it had been for so long, had made her cry some nights. He hated being so weak, so small, that he couldn't stop those tears from falling.

His hand reached for the shoji, but he hesitated when he saw that it was trembling. He blinked, suddenly realizing that he had no idea what he would say if her were to open the door right then and there.

Slowly, keeping his footsteps as soft as possible, he moved away and headed back down the way he had come, looking for Kaoru. He may not be able to deal with it himself, but he knew that someone had to.