Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, the setting, the time period, or even the plot that has gone before. Also, I have no money. It will be a pointless effort in malicious spite to sue me over this piece of fan fiction.

Chapter 1: Prologue

1878 Meiji 11, October

Not for the first time, Kenshin regretted the wanderer's mentality that prevented him from owning more clothes than a single change of gi and hakama. The rains had been heavy this past week, and the umbrella he'd borrowed from Kaoru only kept his head and torso dry. He cast a brief, envious glance at the young man who ran past wearing a kappa and carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle. Even those travelers who were adequately protected from the rain were in a hurry to escape under a roof. He sighed. The market was only another mile away, and he could perhaps beg a cup of hot tea from Tae before returning to the dojo. It would be warmth enough, and cheaply obtained.

If it weren't for the rain, he might have brought Ayame and Suzume along for this chore. The girls could brighten even this dull and soggy day, and he could have used the company to keep his mind off of the current turbulence. But he couldn't risk them catching chill, and given the string of recent attacks in Tokyo, chill was the least of the potential dangers. This month alone he'd had to intervene in no fewer than seven disturbances, and Tokyo's jail now housed two dozen more men than it would have had he not gotten involved. To be sure, Saitou was thankful when he brought them in, or as thankful as the wolf knew how to be. But the increasing level of crime was worrisome to Kenshin.

He'd thought that, with Shishio gone, the government would settle down and continue on the path toward peaceful stability. It had done nothing of the sort. Newspapers ran stories of uprisings in the countryside, of increased yakuza activity, of coming turmoil. Every day the rumors grew more disturbing and the people more restive. It was as if Shishio had been a lid on a bubbling pot, and without that lid, the chaos had no boundaries.

He consciously relaxed, his jaw aching from his grimace. It would serve no purpose to get riled up before anything happened. He could do nothing here on the outskirts of town, and his mission at the moment was only to purchase tofu for this afternoon's lunch. These thoughts would only put him in a bad mood, and that was never productive. Saitou was handling the situation in Tokyo, and Kenshin knew of none better suited to the task. Let Saito do his job and Kenshin buy tofu. If today went peacefully enough, he wouldn't have to see the man at all.

Soon there were more people scurrying about, jostling each other in their hurry to get indoors. As tightly packed as their owners, a multitude of umbrellas formed a canopy against the rain. Kenshin shook his head with a bemused frown as he realized his umbrella was catching more runoff from other, higher umbrellas than rain. Another drawback of being short, one he rarely remembered.

He almost passed the tofu stall before he managed to disengage himself from the current of shoppers, and gladly stepped under the stall's thatched roof. "Please," he began, "pardon the inconvenience of this one's—"

"Have your own bucket, lad?"

"Aa." He ducked his head and held out the battered tofu bucket he'd brought with him, murmuring an "oro" when he saw it filled with rainwater. A flick of his wrist emptied the bucket, and he again extended it toward the tofu merchant.

She returned a moment later with the newly filled bucket, now with two blocks of tofu swimming in the water. "Anything else? A new bucket, perhaps, to replace your old and splintering one?"

Kenshin smiled and shook his head, placing the coins he'd brought in her hand. "Arigato. This old bucket will do, that it will."

As Kenshin turned toward the Akabeko for the tea he'd promised himself, he felt a clump of hostile ki in the distance. It wasn't an unusual feeling since he'd returned from Kyoto, but it still merited an investigation. He only hoped the tofu would survive any encounter he was drawn into.

The last time he'd felt this, there had been infighting among the yakuza right in the middle of the street. Those civilians who hadn't gotten away soon enough had been used as shields. He had managed to disrupt the fighting long enough for Saitou to arrive, and together, they'd taken down the fighters. Aside from some broken bones and cuts, none of the civilians had been too seriously hurt. The yakuza involved had not been so lucky, and none had walked away from the scene. He recalled with distinct disapproval that the yakuza Saitou had fought would never be walking again, or doing much of anything, for that matter.

Kenshin's eyes narrowed as shots rang out, followed by screams, and he elbowed his way toward the commotion. Perhaps he'd be seeing more of Saitou today than he'd planned.