Product Warning: Greetings Honored Reader-san! Thank you for reading Null Hypothesis, my mutant baby that started out as a way to hook up Aoshi x Kaoru/Soujiro x Megumi romantically, but was tragically (or was it happily?) transformed to provide a convenient excuse for me to breakaway from the fluff I'd been working on and indulge in some good-old fashion violence, self-gratifying wangst and experimentation as a writer. Expect updates every two days or so until it's finished.

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The Null Hypothesis by IVIaedhros.

Disclaimer: Ruroni Kenshin and all associated properties are my own copyrighted material. Any attempt to distribute or create new material without my express permission will result in legal action. For additional information, contact my legal consulting team at 972 836 0066. Toodles.

Beta Readers: AlsoSprachOdin and Mind Asylum

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The Takeda mansion and its hedonistic mix of Japanese and Western luxuries was a true product of the slow, but utterly inexorable integration of Western culture into the once unbroken stream of Japanese culture; where there had once been a clear mountain brook, swift and straight, there was now a wide and churning river, full of hidden eddies, rocks and tidal pools. The easily navigable had become a changing labyrinth that a man of proper strength and cunning could exploit. Some might uselessly resist the inevitable changes brought on by the Black Ships and their oft forgotten predecessors, the Jesuits, for destroying the beauty and pride of Japan. However, the objective might learn to appreciate the true advantages the West had to offer while still maintaining the iron core of strength native only to the sons of Yamato. And Aoshi Shinamori, Okashira of the Oniwaban since the age of sixteen, was nothing if not objective and cunning, while strength he had long ago learned.

If only his employer could be so appreciative.

So while Kanryuu tediously droned on about the necessity of maintaining a strict watch over the Nagoya-Kyoto line, Aoshi Shinamori mentally brushed his fingers over the worn, but still exquisitely maintained ivory keys of an early Érard grand piano that had been supposedly owned by a famous European whose music Kanryuu claimed to admire. Ironic, as the man was completely tone deaf and often claimed to despise the very things he lauded with his fine mansion. The underworld entrepreneur could only see the immediate and established use for the tools he possessed: impressing those he envied.

"Excuse me, Aoshi." Kanryuu's eyes had narrowed slightly and a grimace marred his otherwise smooth face. His employer was clearly annoyed. Aoshi's visual focus had never left Kanryuu in the slightest, but Kanryuu could be surprisingly perceptive at times. It was such a shameful waste that he never truly exploited that natural shrewdness.

"Damn it, Aoshi, have you been paying the least bit attention to me?" Kanryuu reached over and picked up a cigar he'd been wearing down over the past twenty-two and half minutes of grand plotting and took a heady drag before expelling the acrid smoke in one, long sigh. Aoshi curled his nose slightly in distaste.

"This latest operation is absolutely imperative for the successful transition of the syndicate to legitimate arms trade. We've been dependent on that pansuke for far too long and the longer we need her for profits, the more chances she has to ruin everything! Right now you and your men need to be concentrating on nothing but making sure that last shipment of opium is safely hidden so we can determine what we will do with it. We can't afford to be caught with it by the government, but we need to offset the production expenses." Kanryuu took several much deeper drags from his cigar before accidently ingesting some of the foul poison he insisted on inspiring. Aoshi automatically stifled the urge the sigh as his employer hacked and wheezed.

Without moving his unsettling gaze, Aoshi waited until Kanryuu had finally cleared his lungs before proceeding to once again explain what he'd already said two weeks ago.

"For someone who wishes to become another of the Meiji's suitors you spend far too much time striving against it. Its interests are now yours." While Aoshi talked, his thoughts were already wandering towards a rare edition of the Man'yōshū. Idly, he contemplated ordering Beshimi to appropriate the masterpiece from Kanryuu's holding. Kami knew the man would never note its absence.

"Speak plainly, Shinamori." Kanryuu's order was accompanied by a fixed stare which the young Okashira ignored. The part of him that would have been angered by the petty man's insolence was already meditating over the verse of the lady Fujiwara's reply to Emperor Temmu, while the part of him that was purely logic and black ice kept his gaze steady and his reply appropriate.

"Use the government's newfound zeal against narcotics. The shipment will arrive near enough to government's storehouses that it can easily be planted amongst the police's supplies of confiscated opium. With the careful placement of the opium and a few bribes, you can easily bring the investigative departments down the heads of those officials that have been hounding you."

"But the costs," Kanryuu spluttered.

Aoshi coldly cut him off and words prepared long before the supposed criminal mastermind had ever dreamed of giving up his opium trade came back with faultless recollection.

"-will be offset by the leverage gained with the government. Those who opposed you will either be removed or their integrity cast into doubt."

"But that still doesn't balance out the associated costs of production and distribution!" Aoshi actually felt one his eyes twitch ever so slightly at this. The man was in his early thirties, nearly six years the elder, and yet Aoshi felt as if he were dealing with a sullen teen that refused to give up on an argument if only for the sake of proving his ineptitude.

"The losses are nothing compared to what you have and will make. More importantly, there is influence and leverage." Having said his piece, Aoshi pivoted on his heel and left Kanryuu to his own thoughts. He did not have time to waste.

Aoshi was almost through with the door and working on the problem what to do with a certain doctor when he was surprised by Kanryuu.

"Aoshi," Kanryuu's usual bluster held a hint of steel; mostly contrived, but still there. Mildly amused, Aoshi turned around, "come here, Aoshi." Aoshi turned around to face Kanryuu fully. The older man was slightly hunched over the table where he'd placed his cigar, the smoke curling around him. Aoshi noted for the first time that Kanryuu's suit, a well-cut gray ensemble that made him appear taller, was newly pressed and his usual glasses were missing. In short, Kanryuu was trying to intimidate him, Aoshi Shinamori, child genius and appointed leader of the defenders of Edo Castle by the age sixteen, now a veteran killer at twenty-six. Thoroughly intrigued, Aoshi put on a slight look of discomfiture and walked back towards Kanryuu. For the first time in a very long time, Kanryuu Takeda had Aoshi's undivided attention.

"This move is going to be very complicated and it's going to require the utter loyalty of all my retainers." Kanryuu kept Aoshi pinned under as hard a stare as he could manage. Mentally, the Okashira saluted him for maintaining a healthy mix of intimidation and respect in his speech and body language.

"And while I trust you to do your job with my life, I can't have you and your ninja go running off every time someone decides to challenge you," Kanryuu's tone still resembled that of a friend patiently admonishing an old partner. "More importantly, I can't have you running off against my orders…you know, loyalty and all that."

Kanryuu leaned in closer to Aoshi, cutting into his physical space and filling his nose with the disgusting scent of burning tobacco. Inwardly, Aoshi was amused. Paperwork really was so boring when compared to games of blind man's bluff. Almost, he smiled back as Kanryuu gave him his best shark's grin.

"Which is why I think it's time we need to have a little talk about your own loyalties, Okashira," and so at last, he came to the real reason for the show. Kanryuu suddenly stepped away and clasped his hands behind his back. A jaunty grin appeared on his face. "Several days ago, I ordered Hannya to stay by my side and guard me. You know what he said, hmm?" His smile widened ever so slightly, "Go on, and take a guess."

Aoshi remained silent, waiting to see what Kanryuu would say.

The change came instantly. Kanryuu was in his space again and coldly threatening. It was rather impressive. "He told me he takes orders only from you and walked off…now I know I reported that incident and demanded that he be disciplined…yet, nothing seems to have happened, which leaves me wondering about just where your loyalty lies." Kanryuu's overlong and surprisingly sharp finger jabbed towards Aoshi's chest in accusation.

Aoshi casually brushed Kanryuu's hand aside. The game had been amusing, but it was time to end it. "Hannya is perfectly correct in his statement. He and the rest of my men owe no loyalty except what they freely give me."

"Well, in that case, maybe I'll have to rectify that. Maybe Hannya can take a nice long break, hmmm?"

It took several seconds, but Aoshi did receive some vague satisfaction when Kanryuu finally realized the reason he couldn't breathe properly was because Aoshi's deceptively powerful hand had wrapped itself around his neck.

"Never threaten my men, Kanryuu." Aoshi quiet monotone could have frozen glass. With a light shove, he released the merchant to gasp for breath.

Aoshi turned and began walking towards the door for the final time. "We of the Oniwaban work with you to prove ourselves as the strongest of the revolution. That is our mission. It would be wise not to remove our motivation for continued cooperation." With those words, Aoshi left Kanryuu and walked back to the doorway for the final time.

"Good night, Kanryuu."

Aoshi closed the door right as Kanryuu's screams erupted at his back. Aoshi calculated that they had at least until the end of the transfer to leave Kanryuu's services. After that, he would take his four men; his family, and lead them somewhere else where they could find employ in their dying trade.

-))—((-

As the last light of dusk faded, Aoshi inwardly cursed his luck at being so tired while on the water. Relatively comfortable as he waited with Hannya in cargo hold of an old cargo ship, it had become difficult to keep his eyes open after spending the twenty-four plus hours awake. The meeting with Kanryuu had unsettled him enough that he had wasted no time in calling his men together in preparation to leave their current occupations. He could grab some precious sleep soon enough, but he had to resist for a little while longer.

The gentle splash of water against the ship's hull was a lulling effect that even Aoshi wasn't immune to. The ninja might have been used to operating for long hours, but the slow roll of the boat was beginning to wear down his iron control. Aoshi did his best to roll his mind through various mental exercises while he and Hannya patiently waited for the rest of the Oniwaban to arrive. The ten meter junk had been covertly purchased by Aoshi several years ago to be used as a mobile base of operations. It had performed admirably in the role in addition having served as everything from supply transport to hidden torture chamber.

The sound of two new footfalls, one nearly silent and the other quiet, but solid, alerted Aoshi to the arrival of Shikijou and Beshimi. Fully awakened, Aoshi tracked the pair's footsteps as they made quickly made their way from the bow of the craft, overhead and then to the cabin's entryway. There was a quiet knocking in predetermined rhythm, letting Aoshi and Hannya know that there was no danger. Hannya gave the OK and the two men appeared in the stairway, both soaking wet and looking as if they'd been through the wringer several times. Mid winter had only just ended and while warmer than it had been in the past, there were weeks where they saw nothing, but icy rain. This was one such week.

The two men stepped in without further word and began to glumly strip themselves. The sopping clothes were hastily tossed in bags of waxed leather while fresh garments were donned. Hannya stepped forward with two small tins of fish and pickles for each of the weary ninja. The two nodded their thanks and began their report.

"The night is clear, Okashira," Beshimi said after he had gratefully eaten the last sweetened pickle. "I canvassed the entire block from rooftop and there's not a soul in sight." The deadly projectile user threw both his cans simultaneously and bounced them off the far wall and into a barrel used for trash.

"Same here boss." Shikijou was still chewing away thoughtfully on his fish. The muscular fighter was still rather suspicious of the canning process in general thanks to the rumors that seemed to crop up every year about the metal contaminating the can's contents. "I left old Hot Lips 'bout a half hour ago back near the Tokaiden intersection. He should be in the woods nearby waiting for us."

"You want to tell us what's going on, boss?" Beshimi asked out of curiosity while hopping up onto a stack of crates near the aft end of the ship. It was extraordinarily rare for the entire group to gather as they did, especially after they had found a regular means of employment.

Aoshi moved over towards the center of his men near the only available light source; a small kerosene lamp shinning fitfully against the dark.

"It is time to leave Kanryuu and seek employment elsewhere."

Hannya's masked face betrayed no emotion. There was no reason for there to be any. Aoshi had already told him the previous night, but Beshimi and Shikijou both sported identical expressions of surprise.

"Th'hell? What'd Weasel Bastard do to get this, eh?" Shikijou crossed his scarred limbs over his massive chest and leaned back against the creaking wall. The German trained native out of Osaka sported an angry grimace, though Aoshi knew his true feelings were undoubtedly otherwise. The man lived for true battle, as they all did. Service with Kanryuu had been good reprieve from the meager scrounging following the revolution, but dogs of war can only be satisfied so long with sleep, no matter how opulent the bed.

Beshimi was of the same mind, though the much shorter ninja didn't even bother concealing his feelings as his thin face lit with a sly grin. "Che, I guess we can't count on those soft bunks anymore. Hah, would've liked to have seen Kitsune-chan one more time at least."

"Silence, both of you!" Hannya's terse command immediately nipped the upcoming conversation in the bud. The scarred killer had been uncharacteristically irritable ever since he'd discovered that he was indirectly the cause of their relocation.

"The Okashira has not even finished briefing you and you're already going off. This is no time for games." Shikijou shrugged slightly, completely unperturbed by the reprimand and turned back towards Aoshi. Beshimi took a chance to glare at Hannya for second before falling in line. Aoshi ignored the interruption. His men were tired and they were going along unquestioning with a change that, while potentially exciting, would uproot them from the relatively comfortable lifestyle as syndicate employees.

"Two nights ago, Kanryuu and I had a confrontation over the purpose of the Oniwaban. It was not resolved. I have reason to believe he will attempt to betray us after he has successfully rooted himself in the arms trade. We are meeting tonight so that everyone may be informed of the situation. "

Aoshi glanced around at his men again. None of them appeared particularly surprised or upset anymore. They probably hadn't been in the first place. Kanryuu's trustworthiness was well known to those who saw him everyday. Besides being notoriously insecure, the man would sell his own soul in a heartbeat if the profit was high enough. The Oniwaban's strength had been necessary for him to overcome his fellow rivals in the drug market. With them gone, he no longer felt comfortable employing men whose loyalty could not be bought by wealth, power or fear.

"Continue to work for Kanryuu as if nothing has occurred. Treat him and his with courtesy and respect until I have completed my plans for our future. Unofficially, I have contacted several government officials who are…"

Aoshi and the others were instantly silenced as Hannya raised a single, open hand; the signal for silence. As Aoshi stood still and intently keyed his ears into the background noise, he almost missed it. But mixed in with the gentle creaking of the junk's salt laden boards and the rhythmic sloshing of the ocean, there was another sound. The strange noise originated from above on the deck, near to the prow under which Hannya stood. It almost reminded Aoshi of the soft splash of a slow, wide waterfall over rock.

A gentle river fall escaping winter's ice to run over stones blue and gray and under the sakura; he held a laughing baby girl who called him Onii-san.

A pungent smellboth oily and vaporous filled his nose. He watched in slow motion as tiny rivulets of clear liquid began to drip through the cracks of their ship, flowing from fore to aft like the creeping summer showers under a canopy of trees. As Aoshi's survival instinct dropped his limp body to the floor like a bunraku puppet with the master's hand removed, the small part of his mind still capable of deliberate thought quietly damned him for failing his men so horribly.

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, the air suddenly much harder to breathe with stinging fumes and a heat on his back that bled through the fine white trench coat and prickling his skin. Aoshi twisted his head to the side to reorient himself; he found that he had been transported to hell. Above him flowed the rolling waves of red fire and filthy black smoke. Wooden crates ignited or exploded into splinters while tiny holes of light appeared like magic in the walls. And in the middle of it all danced a tiny scarecrow, his head on fire…

"Okashira!"

Shikijou sprang through the air and landed on top of his young leader, his muscled bulk forming a shield against the flaming beam that would've crushed Aoshi bodily if it had him. With a muffled snarl, the scared man shrugged off the flaming debris and stumbled upwards. Aoshi found another hand grasping him roughly by the shoulder as Hannya's gauntleted hand joined in with Shikijou's. His own horror prevented him from doing anything more than giving anything more than a stumbling attempt to push himself up. His two subordinates did not need their Okashira's strength at the moment though and together they easily dragged him through the hell ship and up towards the main hatch.

By then that portion of his brain that controlled his tactical thinking roared back to renewed life. You didn't light a fire in a forest to kill the quarry. You flushed them out through the narrow pass and cut them down in one fell swoop.

"Hannya, Shiki-"

As soon as the three ninjas cleared the hatch and stepped into the night, there came a burst of explosive coughs. Splinters flew in all directions around them. To his side, Hannya stumbled and Aoshi felt a sharp pressure in his left thigh. Their momentum was too great to be stopped, however, and the trio sailed over the side railings and into the cold grey sea. Aoshi gasped then choked as salty water flooded his lungs. Trained instinct took over again and instead of frantically trying to rush to the surface and relieve the burning in his chest, he quickly began stripping off his trench coat and boots.

Aoshi frantically tried to right himself. He'd gone in head first and immediately began twisting and turning as he stripped out of his extra garments. He was hopelessly disoriented and the black abyss that pressed against him equally from all sides gave no clue as to what direction was up. Aoshi Shinamori might well have died right there, hovering unknowingly over the muddy bottom of the Tokyo harbor. But Aoshi had already given in to that helplessness earlier.

Never again.

With a cold clarity, all his old instincts reasserted themselves. Emotion could come later. His men needed him.

Aoshi willed himself to be limp in the water, to stop useless thrashing and oxygen consumption. Continuing to ruthlessly suppress the urge to breathe in, to save his air, Aoshi calmly brought his hand near his face and let out small, continuous breath. Even as he felt the burn in his chest grow brighter and the pressure grow stronger, he kept it up. He had to feel for it, feel for the way up with his cold benumbed hands. Feel for it, feel for it…

There!

Aoshi shot upwards with all as fast he could, his long limbs serving to quickly propel him upwards. A darkness that had nothing to do with the lack of sunlight was beginning to creep into his vision. His chest felt as if it were about to cave into itself. Aoshi kept swimming. He had made his decision and somehow he knew that he would live yet a while longer, no matter how swiftly he was beginning to hate the idea.

After an eternity later, Aoshi's head broke the surface. While he unabashedly gasped for air, Aoshi took stock of his surroundings. He had emerged some fifteen meters off the moored junk amidst several other traditional Japanese cargo ships and one modern steamer. In garish light thrown by the flames of their dying vessel, Aoshi was able to see the silhouettes of men moving swiftly over the decks of the other ships. Resignedly turning his head, Aoshi could see no avenue of escape. His would-be executioners had placed gunmen on the decks of vessels moored around their old junk. The thick smoke and naturally poor visibility wouldn't conceal him for much longer.

"Okashira!" Aoshi jerked around to see Shikijou and a strangely limp Hannya struggling to stay next to bow of a vessel some five meters away to the west.

Inwardly, the part of Aoshi that still possessed emotions screamed at Shikijou. The fool had found Hannya and himself in a good, covered and concealed position. Why call attention to himself? Aoshi's logic informed him that he had approximately six seconds before the men on top surrounding ships were able to find them.

"Swim!" Aoshi doubted he had ever screamed so loud in his life as he frantically pointed in the direction he knew without a doubt held their only possibility of escape. Burning energy reserves he didn't know he had, Aoshi flung himself forward in a frantic crawl stroke as Shikijou moved forward far too slowly with Hannya. Around him, he heard the faint cries of men carried over the water. Five seconds later and Aoshi had caught up with the struggling Shikijou. Frantically, they both grabbed one of Hannya's arms and began dragging the ninja towards the relative safety of a nearby vessel. Seven seconds later and the water erupted with tiny splashes as bullets.

They were so close. All they had to do was get around the corner of nearby ship's stern and they would have a temporary reprieve.

More splashes. A vicious curse escaped from Shikijou while Hannya let out a strangled moan.

They made it behind the ship. The bullets stopped.

Aoshi tiredly noted that Hannya's weight seemed to have doubled since they reached the other side of the ship. He looked down and noted the blood in the water. His eyes wandered over the thick red cloud that seemed to be creeping out from under the back of Hannya's shirt and how Shikijou was no longer kicking with both legs. While Shikijou mutely shouted at him, asking his leader what to do, Aoshi calmly considered what he could remember of how the ships were situated amongst one another. Their current refuge was too far from the original ambush for their assailants to hop from deck to deck, which they undoubtedly had in the beginning, but that didn't mean they weren't capable of following them in smaller dingies or other hand powered craft.

Aoshi turned his gaze back towards the wall of bobbing ships he knew hid the western shoreline. They had to reach it within the next twenty minutes or they would be assured of death. While he made these calculations, he realized that it had become an accepted fact that Hannya would be left to die. That small, human part of him that had been ruthlessly shut down when he had first hit the cold water came roaring back to life. The Oniwaban did not leave their comrades behind, but would they condemn they give up a viable chance to escape so one was as good as dead wouldn't die alone? One look at Shikijou's pale face answered his question. He knew what his comrade would say.

"This way," Aoshi said, jerking his head in the direction he knew they had to futilely try to swim, "We have to make it to shore." Shikijou nodded tersely, the fire returned to his eyes even as his amazing strength failed against his injuries and the alien environment. What had he ever done in his previous lives to earn men such as these?

With a strength that belied their wounds, the two men dragged their almost inanimate comrade forward, one stroke at a time. If he could not give his men the rewarding life and glorious death they had all earned, then the least he could do in his failure was to assure that the last remaining defenders of Edo Castle died together, fighting against the odds.

Forty-five…

Thirty-six …thirty-one…thirty…

Aoshi was gasping for breath as Hannya's weight seemed have more than doubled. Desperately glancing over at his two comrades, he noticed that Shikijou was barely moving at all, where before he had been pulling almost as powerfully as Aoshi. Aoshi tried to redouble his efforts, but it was wasted. He was too tired and the other men too much deadweight.

"O-Okashira," Aoshi almost missed the rough gasps that came from Hannya; probably had missed him earlier. Aoshi didn't spare him a breath. He kept pulling.

"Okashira...Oka-shira," he kept swimming. At the rate they were going, they were going to get mowed down by Kanryuu's men or drown in the water, just like he knew they would. He couldn't quit though. To do so would be to surrender the only method of fighting left to him. As Aoshi reached forward to take another desperate stroke, he felt a sharp pain blossom on his shoulder near his neck. Someone had deliberately attacked his shoulder nerve. Aoshi turned his incensed eyes towards Hannya and watched in bafflement as the injured man ripped himself away from the already weak Shikijou.

Deep inside, Aoshi already knew what Hannya was doing and it left him utterly furious. Moving as fast as his cold and injury wearied body would allow him, he swam towards his fellow ninja, fully intent on smashing the stubborn fool's head in so he could drag him ashore. Aoshi was almost close enough to grasp the lapel of Hannya's uniform when he inexplicably felt a searing pain in his gut. Aoshi looked down in disbelief as he saw the silver gleam of Hannya's claws in the water.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Aoshi was beyond furious.

"Making sure you do your duty." Hannya barely managed to get the words out as his head slid under the waves and then came up again as gave his all for those last few seconds. His words stopped Aoshi more effectively than any blade could have.

"Hannya, get back here!" Aoshi commanded, his voice roughly breaking. But Hannya had already forced the air out his lungs with his final breath and, without so much as a final word, slipped beneath the waves.

Aoshi almost charged back under the waves after his oldest and dearest comrade, but Hannya's final words were echoing fresh in his mind. For an eternal moment, Aoshi floated there in the cold, black ocean as two opposing desires warred within him. In the end, he couldn't escape what he already knew. With a vicious scream more fit for a wounded animal than a man, Aoshi turned around and sped towards Shikijou. Grasping the rapidly fading man from behind under the armpits, Aoshi set about completing the last leg towards the shore.

-))—((-

"Watch the furniture. For each crack, I give you one in your bones."

"Of course, oh great Master Inpo…"

Megumi hardly felt the sharp crack the flat-faced China man delivered to the side of her ear. Megumi clenched her teeth down hard in a visibly painful grimace that came more of out of habit and a weak, but still intact sense of preservation than any real pain. She almost wished she could feel the pain. Wearily, Megumi Takani continued in her unsteady walk through the length of Takeda Manor. It was a common ritual of hers and one of the only options open to her for fighting the shakes. Not that it was easy to walk upright when you were either twitching like a puppet or swaying like around all topsy-tervy like a drunken sailor just returned from a long voyage at sea.

"Lady, you are so clumsy," the pug-faced thug for said for what must have been the hundredth time.

From what Megumi could gather, Yu Zhou, or "Master Inpo" as she called him, was a low-level enforcer from Hong Kong who had been foisted upon Kanryuu by one of his business associates. Kanryuu despised his Chinese masters and the lame-duck fools they seemed to delight in gifting him with. That the Chinese drug lords couldn't care less about the Yu Zhou was obvious, but they had made it clear that Kanryuu would suffer repercussions if he were to disrespect their "liaison". Not knowing what else to do with the fool, Kanryuu kept him occupied by either sending him on inspection tours so he could act the big shot or put him on VIP (IE Megumi) guard duty. It served the three-fold purpose of keeping Yu Zhou out of Kanryuu's greasy hair, stroking Yu Zhou's over-inflated ego and making Megumi's life even more of a living hell.

Despite her best efforts (not much, admittedly) Megumi succumbed to her sporadically twitching leg and blundered into her trailing escort. Comically surprised, Yu Zhou smashed the right side of her ear with his open palm before clumsily pushing the off balance doctor back to fully upright.

"Woman, I swear, if you don't stop this, hrmmm!" He back handedly slapped his right hand against his left like a grandmother threatening to deliver some proper courtesy to a young hussy.

Megumi let her face slip into a well practiced smile. "And this is one of my better days. You should've seen me yesterday, Master Inpo. I had so much seishu that I was almost tripping down the hallway." Megumi smiled teasingly. She wasn't called kitsune for nothing.

"You are not allowed seishu!" Yu Zhou sharply enunciated.

"Of course not, Master Inpo," Megumi kept what she thought of as her bimbo smile thoughtlessly plastered on her face while she continued to put most of her thought and effort into putting one foot in front of the other. Staying upright actually wasn't all that hard, once one got used to it, but keeping to a relatively straight line was quite challenging. The opium withdrawals kept her mind in a heavy fog while alternately tormenting her with muscle spasms and digestion troubles, among other ills.

Her dear Inpo looked to be on the verge of hitting her again when one of the manor servants came over and told them that Aoshi Shinamori had demanded her presence. Yu Zhou swore in his native Chinese, but he wasted no time roughly grabbing Megumi under one of her arms and dragging her towards the carriage outside main entrance where the Oniwaban's leader was apparently waiting. Yu Zhou hated the Oniwaban, but he didn't dare flout his superficial authority over the ninjas. They were too independent of Kanryuu and therefore his own Chinese masters.

The Oniwaban's Okashira stood alone next to a fine, if mud splattered two-horse carriage patterned in the Western style. Unexpectedly, her usual escorts were not there. Aoshi was alone without any of the other Oniwaban and dressed not in his traditional suit and white trench coat, but in a set of baggy gray robes marked by several unknown stains. Despite the fatiguing haze the opium left her in, she also noted that Aoshi was alone and her only escort. Her brain tiredly set to work as to why this was important, but it kept getting burning out after only a few coherent thoughts and she had to start over again.

Yu Zhou moved forward and gestured towards the awaiting carriage.

"What are you doing with her? I was not told-"

Megumi never did find out what he was not told. Aoshi had simply taken one long step forward to meet Yu Zhou before he smashed a kunai into the back of the foreigner's brainstem. Catching the crumbling body up in his long arms, Aoshi unceremoniously dragged the corpse over to the right side of the manor and dumped it into the bushes.

Aoshi turned back around to find Megumi staring at him disinterestedly.

"What was that for?"

Megumi looked up to find Aoshi staring down at her with eyes that held a slight hint of madness; like a slip of mercury in dark wells. She recognized the look because it was so similar to the one she saw every time she looked in the mirror. She could also guess what he was about to say.

"What do I have to work with?" Megumi asked quietly.

Glossary

Inpo: Impotent, pansy, weak. Megumi uses it to tease her captor.

Kitsune: Fox spirits, renowned for their capricious guile and power. Megumi is sometimes referred to as a kitsune, fox, or foxy lady .

Kunai: Dart-like Japanese knife with a long, diamond head, thin handle and a metal loop at the end. It's what Aoshi uses to kill Yu Zhou.

Man'yōshū: The earliest anthology of Japanese poetry; revered as a national treasure. Kanryuu has a rare edition of the work and Aoshi covets it.

Okashira: Aoshi's title as the leader; essentially means leader or commander.

Pansuke: Whore. Megumi is sometimes called this by her captors.

Seishu: Rice wine. What Megumi claims to be drunk on.

A/N

Well, that was interesting. I hope that despite my satirical little intro I didn't come off as too much of a snob. I also hope those of you who actually stayed with me for the first chapter will continue to read as I'm pretty excited about this fic'. Oh, and reviews...yea, this story is already complete so no worries there, however, if you enjoy this and want to see similar material later on, review. Or you could just review anyway because it takes like, two seconds, and really helps out the story...maybe...please...