And lo, unto Watsuki Nobuhiro and Joss Whedon a voice cried out, I am not worthy. 
Mea maxima culpa mit schlag.

Edodale
by wombat

Chapter 6

"And then Sano just up and fishsmacked him," Kaoru whispered to Megumi in the locker 
room. "He was all testosterone-poisoning poster boy. But it was really weird, the way 
Kenshin didn't react at all. Or I mean, sure, he pulled the fish back out and bled all over 
the place, but even Hiko got more mad at Sano than he did."

Megumi shook her head. A faint scent of incense wafted out, lingering in her hair from 
her dawn service at the shrine. She'd already changed into her gym clothes, but was 
waiting for Kaoru, who had arrived a little late."That's really bad. You know Sano; he's 
going to keep pushing Kenshin until he gets some kind of reaction, and I don't think any 
of us wants to be around when that happens. It's like the way Calvin's dad said they test 
bridge strengths-- drive heavier and heavier trucks over them until they collapse, and then 
build a new bridge exactly the same way."

"Can we tell Sano not to drive trucks over bridges until he's burned them? Not that we 
can drive yet, but you know."

"Yeah, but what about the rest of it? You know, Kenshin's whole 'I was a teenage 
Battousai' thing? Especially the part where he says he isn't anymore but he wants you to 
kill him anyway?"

Kaoru finished tying her shoes and poked around in her gym bag for a hair scrunchie. 
"Well, you were sure last night that he isn't, so that takes care of the middle, and Hiko 
said this morning that the first part matches up with what he knows. And the third part is 
pretty complicated if first we have to play capture-the-sword with more Kenshin-type 
people. We can't let them get his sword, and we have to get mine back from them. I don't 
have to worry about killing him before then, do I?"

"Not unless you want to worry about whether you're going to do it or not. I mean, can 
you?"

"If I don't, it's not like he can make me," Kaoru mused. "He said what he really wants to 
do is get rid of his sword, but what if there's some other way to do it that won't kill him? 
Think we could get more help from...?" She mimed fox-ears.

"Well, Inari is supposed to have swordsmithly powers along with all the other stuff. I 
guess I should get a better look at that thing to get an idea."

"Oh, that reminds me," Kaoru said nervously. "Um, his sword doesn't like your ofuda."

"Why not? They're perfectly good ofuda, aren't they? I'm insulted."

"Does your definition of 'perfectly good' usually include spontaneous combustion?"

"Okay, that's not so good then."

The gym teacher leaned into the locker room and yelled at the girls to get a move on. 
They scrambled out to join the others outside.

---

Judging from the light, it was well into the morning when Kenshin revived again. His 
head had stopped hurting, but his shoulder hadn't. Experimentally, he flexed his arm, 
winced, and decided to use the other elbow as leverage to half-roll himself off the 
worktable, swinging his legs off the edge as he sat up. 

"So why aren't you dead?" Kenshin turned toward the library door, surprised. Sano was 
straddling Hiko's chair backwards, toying with a fishbone. His cynical gaze was filtered 
through the brown hair flopping over his forehead. "Don't you 'oro' at me or you'll get 
another one of these."

"I am delighted to see you as well, Mr. Harris."

"Whoa, out with the sarcasm! No point wasting courtesy when the ladies aren't around."

"By the same token, they are not here to be impressed by your defense of their virtue," 
Kenshin flatly said. "To what may I ascribe the pleasure of your company?"

"Hiko said he was tired and shagged out after a long squawk. He headed off to the kiln 
room for a nap, but he still needed someone to stay on duty here." Sano grinned and 
saluted. "He'll be back in an hour or so. And hey, even if I'm stuck in the library with 
you, a day without math class is like a morning without after."

"I see." Kenshin's stomach made an embarrassing noise which he refused to 
acknowledge, but Sano reached back to the desk, snagged the bag of mochi balls, and 
tossed it to him in one easy motion. He barely caught it with his off hand. "Are there any 
that aren't green tea? I believe I've had enough stimulation for today already."

"Again with the pickiness. You'll have to wait 'til someone brings lunch. Anyway, 
Kaoru's the one to blame for the breakfast menu. If you want your teacup without the tea, 
there's nummy hot and cold running water fresh from the sink." Sano emptied out the 
dregs from Kenshin's cup and tossed that, too.

Kenshin repressed a shudder of remembered goosebumps from that morning. 
"Unfortunately, the sink's amenities do not include hot water." Resigned, he pulled out a 
mochi ball and just looked at the little green caffeine bomb for a moment before limping 
over to the sink. He drained his cup twice before taking the third cupful back to the table 
and perching back up on it again to eat.

Sano kept watching him silently until about halfway through Kenshin's second mochi 
ball. "You didn't answer my question, you know. Why aren't you dead? And what made 
you wake up one morning and say, 'Hey, I'm tired of being a bloodthirsty soul-eating 
demon thing. I'm going to stop now'? And more to the point, how are we supposed to 
know you won't change your mind back when we're in the middle of something?"

Kenshin carefully finished his mochi ball and made sure it was well washed down before 
he answered. "It was not an entirely voluntary decision, or at least not mine."

"Your demon thing took back its rent deposit and moved out?"

"My... demon thing, if I take your meaning, has not entirely left me, or I would have died 
several times over by now. I am sorry to disappoint you. But I have stopped using the 
black sword to drain souls."

"Why? Did its warranty run out?"

"My own soul was forced back into me." Kenshin dusted the mochi powder off his hands. 
"One of my followers drained me and left me for dead, with barely enough strength to 
attempt seppuku with my wakizashi. Someone else..." He couldn't say her name after all 
this time, dear delicate Tomoe. "Someone more loyal stayed behind to act as my second. 
But when she brought my katana to my neck, it felt as if it burst into flame behind me, 
and the wakizashi in my guts fell apart into ash. And once it was gone, my soul had 
returned to me, and it's been hounding me ever since for all the deaths I caused as 
Battousai."

With a flicker of irritation, he thought that Sano could at least look impressed. "So what 
happened to your girlfriend?"

"I don't know. She had collapsed with the katana still in her hands, and I had to get away 
before the others came back. So I left her there, and disappeared into the wild."

"So much for chivalry."

"I thought she'd be safer with them than with me."

"You've been dragging the sword around all this time without using it?"

"No, I left it behind with her. I didn't feel as if I had any further use for it." Carefully, 
Kenshin tamped down the raw edges of his temper. "It came back to me a few years ago 
on its own, I suppose after the shrine's seal on the weapons had beeen broken. Each of 
them must have gone back to its owner."

"Freaky." Sano tapped his fishbone's edges against his teeth. "So let me get this straight. 
You kill freaky demon guy with his sword. You take the sword, kill someone else with it, 
and hey presto, you're freaky demon guy, Mark Two. Your girlfriend just about kills you 
with your sword, and your freaky demon license is revoked. You don't think she became 
Mark Three?"

"Not if the sword came to me instead of her. Besides, as you said, I didn't become 
Battousai until some time after I acquired it. It needed to be primed with a victim."

"So prime freaky demonosity is basically stored in that sword right now, waiting for her 
to come pick it up and get all Tokugawa on someone's ass, and then she'll become the It 
Girl?" Sano's flippancy suddenly evaporated as his own words made sense to him. "Think 
she knows that? Anything happen to her soul?"

Kenshin closed his eyes, wishing he knew. "She was never very strong, not in body. She 
had great determination and courage, but that isn't enough to wield the power of that 
sword. But then, I don't think the next user has to be her. It could be anyone." He opened 
his eyes again, feeling the green tea pound through his system as bloodlust once had. 
"Any of you, for example. Or I imagine that if I used the sword again on a living victim 
instead of Enishi's undead, I would return to my former condition."

At least Sano finally looked daunted. "You could've done that last night."

"I could have," Kenshin agreed. "But I didn't." He tossed the bag of mochi back to him. 
"Truce?"

Sano skewered a mochi ball on his fishbone and took a bite. "Truce," he cheerfully 
agreed.

---

Tomoe was sobbing and tearing at her face with her nails as Enishi tried to restrain her, 
kneeling at her side. "Don't carry on like that, love. I'm here with you, I'm here. I'll never 
leave you like he left us."

Towering over them, Jineh looked down contemptuously at the pair. "You're wasting 
your time on her. She's no use to us now. We should've drained her too while we could."

Enishi's eyes narrowed. "You listen up, mate. You so much as lay a finger on her without 
my leave, and you can forget about any more flesh-puppets. New ones can't rise until 
next full moon anyway, so what's your hurry? And you can't drain her anyway, any more 
than a mouse." Casually, he drew his sword, a strange design with a curved black blade 
and an ornate hilt, and tapped it against Jineh's katana. "Bloody wanker."

Jineh snorted, but stepped back out of reach anyway. "Battousai never asked your leave 
for her either," he jibed.

"Too right. You don't see me crying for him to come back, do you?" Both men were 
startled at the sudden silence as Tomoe looked from one face to the other, her eyes wide. 
"Easy there," Enishi rushed to reassure her. "I just want you to be happy, that's all. 
Battousai made you unhappy when he went away, didn't he? I won't see you hurt like that 
again."

She let him rock her against his chest as Jineh stalked out again, probably in search of 
Yumi. The silver tip of Tomoe's hairpin pressed against Enishi's shoulder, and it must 
have hurt him, even padded by the fabric of his shirt, but he didn't flinch away. Drawing 
the shreds of her sanity around her, Tomoe caressed her brother's face and smiled at him 
for a second, then let herself fall back down into the whirling torment of her soul.

---


Wakened by the next bell, Hiko returned from his nap to the library, sent Sano back to 
class ("No, I can stay; Kenshin and me are best buds now..."), and closed off the 
workshop again. Kenshin sat there alone, listening to the students stampede through the 
hallway. Sunlight sparkled with dust as it slanted through a window high in the wall, 
painting a wash of warm amber over the floor and the worktable, the shelves of drying 
earthenware and pots of glaze. The noise outside faded away as the last stragglers ran into 
their classrooms. The chaos was nothing like the school he remembered, the austere dojo 
whose master must have been the librarian's ancestor, he supposed. The name wasn't a 
coincidence after all, nor the familiar accent of his home province.

There was no point in staying on the worktable now, in the direct glare of the sun, so he 
tucked himself into the corner below the window, nearly under the sink. Folding his arms 
around his drawn-up knees, he rested his head on them. The floor and wall radiated cold 
through his clothing, but he'd survived worse, despite not wanting to. His shoulder and 
his head ached, and his torn shirt was still damp from its fresh washing, but is was 
comfortable than burrowing naked into dead leaves with the rest of the vermin. He'd done 
that for the first few years after he ceased being Battousai, trying to abase himself in 
atonement for everything he'd done. He didn't know whether it had appeased his victims' 
spirits, or whether it was just his own guilt that constantly gnawed and worried at his 
soul.

He could sense the black sword's presence nearby, calling and whispering to him. He 
hoped his former comrades couldn't feel it too. If they were travelling together, perhaps 
they still shared the cruel cameraderie he'd enjoyed with them so long ago. It was hard to 
remember, and he did so unwillingly, but he would need to recall every detail of their 
strengths and weaknesses if he hoped to overcome them now.

---

Tomoe had been the first to join him in his life as Battousai. He hadn't even known it 
could be done. Until then, no one had slipped past his katana to mark him, not since the 
cross-mark had been branded onto his cheek. But he remembered Tomoe from home as 
the pretty miko his own age, though now she was three years older and he was not. He'd 
never told her how crucial she'd been to his transformation. But when she came to the 
city and found him, he welcomed her gladly, offering refuge to her claim of having run 
away from the shrine to find a more worldly life. And that night, he woke to find her 
crouched above him, surrounded by the implements of exorcism with her tanto driven 
deep into his chest.

He'd laughed. It didn't hurt at all. In fact, he'd felt a strange flow of pleasure through the 
wound and up her blade as it turned black. It was almost like the surge that pulsed up his 
sword whenever he killed his victims, drawing off their life force to add to his own. 
Tomoe had stared at him in silent horror in her last moments as a mortal, her hands 
frozen to the hilt as it blossomed a topaz kashira as golden as Battousai's eyes. The 
wound in his heart healed itself, pushing her tanto back out, and she fell sprawling to the 
floor. When she sat up, her eyes had the same topaz fire as his, and the same thirst for 
death.

He taught her to hunt the streets as he did, though her methods had to be more subtle. She 
was skilled at appearing sweet, helpless, and lost, on streets too dark to betray the color 
of her eyes. A man walking alone might be moved either to help her or take advantage of 
her, depending on his disposition. Either one would end as a corpse in an alley, his throat 
slit by her black tanto. Battousai knew that the same wild rush surged through her then as 
his katana gave him at the end of a duel, cutting through flesh and bone alike.

---

After a few years more, their paths crossed with Yumi, a samurai's daughter trained to 
fight with a naginata. She'd been trained well, as she proved when Battousai and Tomoe 
broke into her family's compound and met her in the courtyard. Battousai could evade her 
easily, but Tomoe could not. Afterward, Yumi helped the two slaughter her own kin, her 
black weapon gleaming red with their blood, but green with the emerald that had 
appeared at the base of her naginata's pole, embedded in the ishizuki.

Three pairs of golden eyes now hunted the city, three black blades drinking lives away. 
Battousai and Tomoe would sometimes tease Yumi about the difficulty of concealing her 
naginata, as each of them was bonded only to their own proper weapon. They'd tried 
exchanging them once and got no joy from their kills that night, though they made up for 
it on the next. 

In return, Yumi scoffed at Tomoe's furtive ways. She needed more room to fight than 
either of the others, enough space for the wide sweep of her blade, but she could also cut 
down several men at once. The only concealment she needed was a rooftop from which 
she could leap down upon them, stooping with deadly grace. Her loosely fastened robes 
gave her the ease of movement the naginata required, but also showed her victims one 
last hint of earthly pleasures as they died.

---
.
The whispers about Battousai and his women spread through the city-- the angel of death 
who passed through the night with his winged companions, the falcon and the dove-- and 
far beyond, reaching the village where he and Tomoe had been born. The elders took 
notice, and sent Enishi to gather news for them.

Enishi had been Tomoe's younger brother, but by the time he came to them, he had lived 
a few more mortal years than she had. After training as a priest at their family shrine, he 
had gone to China to seek out further wisdom, and finally came to the city in hopes of 
exorcising the evil from his beloved sister. But when they finally met and spoke, he was 
so appalled by what she'd become that he tried to strike her down. 

His sword gained a sapphire, though he used it less than the others, or rather on fewer 
victims. His chosen few were brought back to their lair, tormented with drawn-out 
precision, and eventually dispatched; their bodies providing raw material for his 
experiments with restoring movement, though not life.

Though they did not know it, this would be their happiest time together, as such things 
went. Despite fond squabbles and occasional spats, they were as closely bonded as any 
family, both in blood and body. If anything, they became too comfortable, killing less 
frequently and becoming less vigilant. And then Jineh came to them, and everything fell 
apart.

---

Hiko woke in his chair, half-leaping up from his slouch at the ding of the service bell on 
his desk. He recognized her at once. "Ah. Ms. Summers, isn't it?" 

Joyce looked startled at first, then a little sad. "How did you know-- oh, how silly of me. 
You have seen me before, after all; I've just never met you."

He finished standing and extended his hand, first to shake hers and then to point out a 
chair on her side of the desk as he sat down again. "Rupert Hiko, at your service." He 
rubbed his stiff neck, aware of the stubble that rasped against his wrist. "I'm afraid I'm a 
bit untidy at the moment. Late-night research project, you know. How may I help you? Is 
it something to do with Kaoru?"

"No, not exactly. It's just that I haven't had the time to find you and thank you properly 
for helping us that awful night."

"I wish I could have done more, for your family and all the others. Kaoru hasn't spoken 
much of her brother. How is Yahiko?"

She sighed. "At this rate, we'll just have to keep listening to him hitting that poor tree in 
the yard and interpreting it in Morse code. But they're tough kids, both of them. I'll just 
have to give them their space for now, I suppose."

"And yourself?" he asked more quietly.

"Oh, I'll manage somehow. There's the insurance money, and thank goodness, none of the 
students' or assistant instructors' families are suing us for not guarding the dojo with 
barbed wire and rabid dogs. I don't know what I'll do with the place now, though. I'm 
thinking of selling it off."

"Really? Dear me, I was hoping to lease it from you."

She looked a bit skeptical. "I don't think students would be eager to come back there, 
even with a new instructor."

Hike hunched down over the desk and radiated his very best librarian aura. "Me, instruct 
martial arts? Whatever put that idea into your head?"

"When I woke you up unexpectedly, you reached for your sword."

"But I'm not wearing my--" Involuntarily, he glanced down at his hip, then back at her 
wistful amusement.

"Koshijirou used to do that, you see. I never learned any of his techniques, but some 
things you can't help but notice."

"Ah. Just so," Hiko said evasively, and changed the subject. "No, I was thinking of 
setting up a place to flog off my pottery. On the other hand, I wouldn't have the leisure to 
staff it myself, so perhaps it's a silly idea." Take the hint, he thought fiercely behind a 
bland expression, and added, "Kaoru says you're working at the Akabeko now?"

"Yes. They don't open until lunchtime, so at least my mornings are free. And the pay's 
not bad, but there's only so much sushi I can roll without going out of my head with 
boredom."

Sod subtlety, he decided. "If I were to lease your dojo and convert it to a gallery, would 
you be interested in staffing it? I'd pay you both the rent and wages, of course, or if you 
prefer, we could draw up a profit-sharing agreement. It's just that raku artware is an 
absurdly profitable sideline for me, much more so than my regular salary here. So really I 
can't afford to build up stock much longer without selling it, and as I haven't found any 
local venues yet...."

Her initial startlement turned to serious consideration. "Raku ware, you say? It's beautiful 
stuff. Could I see some of your work?"

"Yes, certainly. There are some pieces in my workshop back there," Hiko said, in the 
instant he remembered Kenshin. Too late, though; she had already walked in. Hiko 
followed her just in time to see her notice him huddled in the far corner. She looked 
startled, but with no hint of fear. Kenshin, too, showed no signs of recognizing her. "Your 
son?" she asked Hiko.

He thought he heard a muffled choking sound from Kenshin. "No, he's my library aide," 
Hiko said. "Do come up and say hello to Kaoru's mother," he called over, just to be sure.

Kenshin gave a little start of surprise in the middle of unfolding himself, and limped over 
to kiss her hand. So he really hadn't known who she was, Hiko thought with relief, and 
promptly sent him out to the main library desk for some paperwork. Joyce turned her 
head after him with a worried look. "That poor boy. Whatever happened to him?"

"He came in here that way," Hiko truthfully said. Except for that business with 
Sanosuke's fish, of course. At least the lads seemed to've patched things over for now.

"I hope someone will call Social Services on his behalf. Really, the things some parents 
will do to their children," Joyce sighed, then settled back to admiring the finished raku's 
iridescence.

---

"Going out on patrol again?" Jineh leaned against the crypt doorway, just enough to 
block Yumi's way. 

She glared at him. Her hair glinted violet as it tumbled down across her shoulders, half-
bared by the low sleeves of her leather bodice, and her curled lips were the dark green of 
bitter envy. "Get out of my face. I'm not staying cooped up in here with the Wonder 
Twins, and especially not with you."

He caught the pole of her naginata as she tried to pass. "I would've thought you'd 
welcome the attentions of a real man after so many years with two half-grown boys."

The naginata whipped out of his hand and at his throat as she leaped back to combat 
distance. Her low voice carried clearly. "Jineh, we've been stuck with you this side of 
death for three years now. Three damn years after we all came back from getting killed, 
because Battousai could hold us together and you couldn't. That's nearly three years 
longer than you spent with us before then, before you tried to kill him because you 
couldn't stand not getting laid. Well, Enishi's looking out for Tomoe, and I'm looking 
out for me, so you'd better get used to being lonely for the rest of your eternal life."

---

"Unfortunately, I haven't time to demonstrate the entire process," Hiko said, replacing the 
lid on the can of sawdust in the kiln room, "but that's the general idea. So what do you 
say?"

Joyce's rapt enthusiasm faded a bit. "Well," she said slowly, "I think you probably could 
remodel the dojo into a raku gallery. If you moved your workshop and kiln there, or set 
up duplicates, people might come just to watch you throw and fire your pieces, not that 
they need the extra boost. The shaping and glaze effects are really beautiful. And if you 
were setting up your gallery anyplace else, I would've been happy to staff it for you. But 
for now, I can't see myself setting foot in that place ever again."

Hiko nodded gravely, mentally smacking himself. Of course she wouldn't want to return 
every day to the place her husband had been killed. "Yes, I see. But we can still work out 
the lease arrangements and so on, I hope?"

She nodded. "That does take a load off my mind. Here's my home number; give me a call 
tonight or tomorrow morning. I'd better head out to the Akabeko now, though."

"Of course. I hope you won't mind if I escort you to the parking lot. There are some 
things I need to get from my own car anyway."

Joyce smiled at him as they walked down the hall, some of her strain disappearing again. 
"Oh, you and that Kenshin boy. My mother always told me that men from your province 
were charmingly gallant. She also said that none of you were sincere about a single word 
of it."

"None of it? Madam, I protest. It's a sad day when I can't even be trusted to fetch my own 
personal belongings from my boot."

---

After fetching the files Hiko had mentioned, Kenshin put them in order on the worktable 
and then curled back up in the corner, floating in a twilight state between reverie and 
slumber. He didn't even look up when Hiko came back in, and in fact took no notice of 
him whatsoever until something sailed across the room and smacked him. It was a 
bokken. Kenshin rubbed his head, silently mouthing an oro.

"Thought so," Hiko said, another bokken in his hand. He sounded almost smug, and 
ridiculously refreshed. "You've gone soft. First you had ten years of invulnerability to get 
sloppy, and since then, you've either forgotten most of your training or you've been too 
afraid to use it. Well, you're not going to be much help getting the sakabatou back, are 
you? Or do you really want to rejoin your friends and get Kaoru killed?" Kenshin sat up 
straight at the last jibe. Hiko grinned. "Thought so. Come on, you were enough of a 
shame to my family's school when you were competent. Are you going to get up and 
attack me or aren't you?"

Bracing himself back up against the wall, Kenshin lifted the bokken. Coolly, he said, 
"You wouldn't be doing this if I had my own sword."

"You had your own sword last night and were nearly taken down by a few brainless 
flesh-puppets. What's your excuse for that?" Hiko shoved the worktable to the side, 
leaving the center of the room clear. "There you were, on the verge of being knocked out 
and dragged to their master, needing to be saved by a little fox-miko. I'm surprised you're 
not more interested in her than in Kaoru, but then maybe you always need a miko to save 
your life so you can betray them later."

Kenshin shifted his grip, falling into stance.

"Still not ready? Too bad," Hiko said, and attacked.

---

"What the great googly moogly was that?" Sano asked. As he and the girls walked toward 
the library with lunch trays in hand, the hallway noise did not quite mask out a yell and a 
crash. There was an interesting sort of shadow-play visible on Hiko's workshop door, 
however.

"It's still locked," Kaoru said, wrenching at the knob. They dashed around to the other 
door in the actual library.

Cringing at the sight inside, Megumi meekly suggested, "Um, Mr. Hiko? I'm fairly sure 
that killing students is an abrogation of your contract with the teachers' union."

With the tip of his bokken, Hiko flipped Kenshin over onto his back. "He's not dead, he's 
just resting. The blood's all from his nose. At least so far." He poked him again, this time 
in the belly, and was rewarded with a retching groan as Kenshin curled up onto his side. 
"Not as bad as I thought. Maybe you could still take on an everyday opponent, but you 
never finished your training in Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu. I know every move you make, and 
more. If you want my help, I'll give it to you. If not--" Hiko shrugged. Kenshin lashed out 
with his bokken, a wide sweep parallel to the floor. Hiko leaped over it and kicked it 
aside as it passed, spinning it out of his hand. "Stupid pup," Hiko grinned, and sauntered 
back to his desk.

-----

(Wherein Kenshin is again not only denied a chance to kick butt, but acquires another 
dent in his. Next time, honest. I'll even plaster live nude girls on him to make up for it, or 
at least a scantily-clad undead girl? Oh, whatever. I hate writing bridge sections. Took a 
break this chapter from mostly limiting the narrative to Kaoru's point of view, though.)

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