By the time Kenshin reached the dojo he was nearly exhausted and sick with fear. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that Saitou was following the trio to the Kamiya Dojo, and he could only guess what the reason may be. And why Akira? His questions were unending.

They were all forgotten when the destroyed dojo wall came into view. Though his back was sore and has legs weary after the long sprint he pulled from his bones a faster pace to carry him through the opening and into the dojo yard. His eyes darted about to take note of the scene; he froze in horror. Saitou charging at Kaoru full speed, clearly intending to cut her down as an obstacle to his goal. Kenshin could not reach them in time, no matter the strain he demanded of his muscles. There was no way for him to protect her.

Kaoru must have seen him, because her gaze shifted. She didn’t shout to him; once she’d acknowledged his presence she turned her attention back to her charging antagonist. She wasn’t going to attempt escape, even knowing she had no way of defending against gatotsu.

Dear god, no… Kenshin pulled his sheath out of his belt, clicking the sword out only half an inch. Saitou might have been too far, but he had to try, and he could think of no better way. Kaoru-dono, please get out of there! He spun and launched the sword with Hiryuusen.

It wouldn’t make it. He knew at once that he’d hesitated a moment too long, and time was too short. The sword flew, attempting to defy reality and space in its path as it reached for the barreling wolf. Kaoru stood firm, blinded by her faith in the speeding icon from her savior’s hand. Her eyes reflected the moonlight. Kenshin could only stare in mounting horror at those orbs, and just as Saitou’s arm lunged forward his senses flooded with the scent of white plums.

Though Kenshin had not had the time, another had. Even when Saitou had still been a dozen steps away Akira had fastened his hands around the sleeve of her sleeping kimono, and as the man hell-bent for blood approached within striking distance he pulled with all his might. Kaoru gasped, feeling the rush of heated air that passed by her face as the blade of Saitou’s sword barely missed her flesh. The hilt of the weapon, however, was several inches thicker, and the metal struck a glancing blow to the side of her head as she was dragged to the dusty earth. She didn’t have time to cry. Her skull felt as if it had been cracked open—she imagined that it had been, as the sensation of blood flowing accompanied the hit—as she dropped heavily to the ground next to Akira and Mari.

An instant after Kaoru fell, Kenshin’s sword handle slammed into the base of Saitou’s own skull, sending him reeling. At such an incredible pace he could not manage so stay upright; he also tumbled into the dirt, lifting a cloud in his wake.

"Ka…" Kenshin’s lips trembled as he tried to speak her name. From his far off vantage point he could not be sure of what had happened. He’d heard the impact above his frantic pulse, and he’d seen her fall. Trying to control his shock and fear he ran, skidding to a halt beside Akira and the two women in his care. "Kaoru-dono…" he said tremulously, afraid to touch her least he find her skin cold, "…is she…?"

"No, just dazed," Akira replied just as weakly. He was even paler than Kenshin. "But… she’s bleeding, and…"

Kenshin checked the wound, and was flooded with relief to see that it was only a scrape from the metal: shallow and not serious. Even as he showed Akira how to hold his sleeve over the injury she moaned and began to stir. "Hold still," Kenshin instructed softly. "You are all right."

"Ken…" She smiled faintly, allowing herself to relax as he’d said. "Are you…okay?"

"Battousai."

Kenshin lifted his head. Saitou was on his feet now, standing rigidly several feet away. "I am fine," Kenshin said, squeezing her hand briefly before climbing slowly to his feet. "I will take care of this." He held his hand out to the side, and Akira quickly snatched his sword off the ground and gave it to him.

"You intend to defend those three?" Saitou hissed. By now Haya had moved up behind Kenshin, still gripping his arm. He crouched beside his sister.

"I do," Kenshin replied, sheathing his sword and taking up a battoujutsu stance. There he paused to view the man he would have to fight. What he saw caused him to hesitate even more. Saitou’s eyes were cold and angry, but behind them there lay a deep, emotionless voice. The hatred on his face was nothing more than a mask. Everything about the man screamed clues to the younger swordsman: his voice, filled with tremulous rage; his movements, thrown off in their usual precision that indicated a lack of interest in defending himself; but most of all, his spirit. As a fighter Kenshin was well-accustomed to detecting the faintest whispers indicating a man’s presence, or even using his own spirit to intimidate and confuse enemies, but this was another matter. Saitou’s characteristically unreadable aura was now completely entangled, blazing and tearing itself and his concentration until there was no way to interpret his intentions.

"Saitou," the red-head said carefully, "this is unnecessary, and you know that." He hoped to convince him to back down, as he himself didn’t want to fight. After everything they’d done as partners he was loath to find the man again on the opposite side of his blade. More than that, if Saitou chose to fight him, there would no way for Kenshin to win. "I understand your anger and I share your sorrow, but this—"

Without word or warning the wolf attacked, and Kenshin wasn’t fast enough to dodge. Even as he batted the sword aside he was caught by a kick to his gut and sent sprawling. He regained his balance quickly and moved out of range. "Don’t talk," Saitou hissed, preparing for another attack. "We finish our dual now, Battousai. Life goes only to the victor. Prepare yourself." He charged.

The pair exchanged blows, and already Kenshin knew he was at a disadvantage. He didn’t want to fight—this man was not his enemy. "Saitou, stop this," he pleaded across their crossed blades. "This will not help."

Saitou broke free, and in a fury of blade and fists his opponent was felled once more. "Hold back," he said darkly, "and I’ll kill you."

"Saitou…I know these feelings. But you—"

"Shut up." He moved to kick him again, but Kenshin was just fast enough to avoid being hit. "Your empty sentimentality won’t work with me. I want to finish this, and I will, one way or the other."

This is just like Aoshi Kenshin thought. But Saitou is not nearly as reasonable. Aoshi had time to reconcile with his losses, but these wounds are fresh, and our vendetta is personal. I cannot convince him to back down.

"Alright, Saitou." Kenshin again prepared for battoujutsu. "I will fight you."

"Kenshin…" Kaoru sat up despite Akira’s warnings, holding her head as it throbbed. Saitou’s move into gatotsu made the pain worse. "Kenshin, don’t—"

"Let him," Haya said gruffly. "You didn’t see the people that bastard butchered—better him than you or us."

The fight began again. Kenshin tried to stay focused, but the chaos of his opponent’s spirit was beginning to affect him. I know these feelings. I know that pain. He tried to ignore it, but the raw emotions were overpowering. He ducked under another gatotsu and was hit by Saitou’s knee. Through shear strength the wolf beat his victim down, driving his fist into the man’s skull and his boot into his back. Kenshin yelped as the heavy sole ripped the tender flesh along his spine. He scrambled for retreat again.

"This is ridiculous," Saitou growled. "You can’t win this way."

"Maybe." Kenshin adjusted his grip on his sword, and for a moment his eyes sought Kaoru’s. She was watching him fearfully, scrutinizing his every action for the presence of something that wasn’t him. He wished there was some way to reassure him. "But this is not the end of our dual. I want to finish it was much as you, but not this way. When we settle things it will be one mutual terms, without my having to protect someone."

"No excuses."

"Himura-san!" A boy came scrambling through the hole Saitou had created earlier in the wall: Eiji, and following closely was Sanosuke with the unconscious Tsuyoshi draped over his back. A moment later Megumi was there also with her medicine case. "Himura-san, are you all right?"

"Eiji-dono…" Kenshin sighed with relief. Thank god those two are alive. Now maybe Saitou will—

Saitou charged once more, and this time his blade ripped a gash along Kenshin’s side as he attempted to dodge. "I said no excuses," the former Miburo snarled.

"You dumb bastard!" Sanosuke shouted. "Can’t you see your son’s here? He’s alive, you ass, so leave Kenshin outta this!"

Saitou’s eyes flickered briefly, catching sight of the face of his son that rested on Sanosuke’s shoulder. Then he ignored him—now that he knew Tsuyoshi was safe, his world narrowed to only himself and his enemy, and no amount of shouting or pleading would stop him. "Fight," he commanded. "Fight as your true self or die not as a dog."

"If you win that way," Kenshin replied weakly, "can you tell yourself it was victory?"

This caused the wolf to pause, and everyone held their breath as they awaited his reaction to the words. Kaoru bit her lip and prayed. But the spell quickly passed, and Saitou had made his decision. "Very well," he said in a low tone. "I’ll force you, then."

"Saitou, this—"

Their swords clashed, and Kenshin strained to keep them that way a moment more. "Saitou, killing me will not bring her back," he told him. "Please, she would not want you to take these lives."

"Fool. Why are you defending them?" Saitou’s expression contorted in wrath. "They’re the ones that took her from me!"

"What?"

Haya sprung from where he’d been crouched, throwing his weight into the policeman. He brought his heel down heavily on the man’s injure leg, forcing him to his knees. Then he leapt back again, standing at Kenshin’s side as if to fight with him. Kenshin could only stare.

Kaoru clutched her white sleeping kimono. "Akira-san," she whispered in disbelief. "Is that true? Did you…?"

Akira wanted to explain, but in truth he knew he’d been wrong to bring his friends here. He stuttered on the words and finally blurted out, "I’m sorry, Kaoru-sensei. It’s true—we were tricked by the Night Wolves and Kagewara."

"You…bastards…" Yahiko finally sat up, helped by Eiji. He scrubbed blood from his chin. "You…killed someone, and now you want Kenshin’s help? He doesn’t defend murderers!"

"I know." Akira lowered his head, gazing down at Mari who was still unconscious. "I’m sorry. But…I didn’t want them to die." He felt tears marring his skin. "Please, don’t let Mari-san and Hayato die."

Kaoru looked to Kenshin. Her own heart felt crushed and betrayed by this now development—her own student, whom she had so hoped to train and teach… She didn’t want to see him or his friends killed, but what if Saitou was right? "Kenshin…"

Kenshin’s head was down, his rusty orange bangs falling over his face to hide any indication as to his thoughts. The silence penetrated and trapped the group, binding them in its tension. Sanosuke, Megumi, and Eiji approached slowly with Yahiko and Tsuyoshi receiving help. Akira hid his face in shame, and Haya stepped back, waiting. Saitou remained on his knees, breathing hard as the pain began to creep up on him again. His was anxious to return to the fight—it was the only thing that took him from the memories of his wife’s cold skin and closed eyes.

"You killed Tokio-dono," Kenshin murmured, stirring the silence. Kaoru and Yahiko started, as they had yet to understand the cause of all this. "You attacked her and her children, killed her and escaped to come here for my help."

Akira wound his fingers tight around the fabric of his pants. "I…"

"Kaoru-dono and Yahiko could have been killed. You knew that when you came. But you put them in danger anyway. You ask me to defend the killer of women and children."

Saitou watched him expectantly. "Battousai."

"I do not deny their guilt," he continued, "but I will defend them." He finally raised his head, and his eyes, pained but determined, locked on those of the man who would be his enemy. "I sword that I would take no life, directly or indirectly, and so I cannot allow you to harm them. More than that, Akira-dono saved Kaoru-dono’s life. Later I will give them to the police, but their lives are not yours to take. If you must take vengeance…" He sheathed his sword and replaced it in his belt. "…take it on me."

Akira stared at him, stunned. "Himura-san…?"

Kaoru started to speak, but she was too late. The battle began anew, and she could only watch in horror as Kenshin allowed each blow to hit its mark. Saitou didn’t bother to use his sword—killing the stupid wanderer would not halt his quest for Battousai’s defeat. Instead he pummeled the man with his fists and feet, receiving no opposition.

"I don’t believe this," Sanosuke cursed, his fists aching to be used though he knew better. His right hand was still healing, and he knew what could happen if he tried to get in the middle of this. "He can’t just take it…"

"Himura…san…" Akira cringed with each impact, and finally he turned his head away so he wouldn’t have to watch. He should have said or done something, but his heart was shaking and he didn’t want to leave Mari.

"Akira?" Mari’s eyes fluttered open, and she groaned and held her head. "What…"

"Hush," he told her, tears of relief spilling from his eyes. "Just stay still."

Kenshin fell on his stomach, trapped beneath Saitou’s boot. He gasped for breath, then paused to cough blood from his mouth. The pain was intense, and he wondered if he would faint. No. Not now. He was able to see Akira and Mari, the latter finally awake, and he locked his jaw in determination. I will not fight for them, but I cannot allow them to die. I know Saitou’s pain—no voice can reach him. If I could only wait until his son awakens, perhaps…

The weight pulled off his back, and Kenshin braced himself for another blow, but a shuffle of movement caught his attention first. "That’s enough!" a woman’s voice shouted, very close to him. "Saitou-san, please!"

Kenshin raised his head, dazed from the pounding in his brain. He turned to see what had happened. A woman clothed in white was kneeling behind him, arms spread in a gesture of protection. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders and back, free from tie or binding, like waves of ebony snow. Beyond that he saw his torturer, and the dull reflection of moonlight off a blade. All at once his mind was thrown into a desperate, panicked frenzy. With a cry that might have been a sob he reached out, snatching the arm of the woman. He knew this. Hundreds of times in his dreams he’d reached out this same way to save the illusions, and always redemption eluded him. But now he would not lose—he refused to lose—and with all the strength and speed left hidden in his limbs he pulled her down and clutched her against his chest like a precious doll. He turned his back to Saitou, prepared for any reparations, even death, that would accompany this act. Gasping and trembling from the horror or those past moments, he held her close, fingers digging into her shoulder, face hidden in her soft hair. May fate bring its worst his heart whispered, for I’ll* take it all.

"Ken…" Kaoru found her voice inactive, trapped within his arms. Stunned and uncomprehending she stayed still, barely able to breathe.

Saitou stared, and slowly his lip curled in a scowl. He lowered his sword. Staring down at the huddled pair, he knew he’d been cheated. Fate had been cruel to him. This man had done everything to protect the dojo girl, and she lived. Several times he’d failed, not present when she most needed him, and still she survived: with Jin’eh, and when Saitou first came to the dojo, and with the Ten Swords. Even moments ago, after having risked and lost so much, had it not been for Akira her life would be nothing more than a pool in the dirt. It wasn’t fair that she should live, and his wife, no less precious or pure, be taken. Battousai was a fool who refused to pay for his crimes. He refused to be punished.

But now…

The wolf’s mind was nothing more than blind rage now. He would end it here by his own hand, and prove himself the better of the two. What had happened before and what would come no longer mattered, so long as victory was declared.

"Get up."

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