First Day

"I bear you no ill-will," a figure announced, emerging from the smoke, "but for the sake of justice, I'll take you victim here."

Kaoru stared in fright at the tall figure looming above her: Enishi Yukishiro—the swordsman who had just defeated her beloved Kenshin. Fear lodged itself in her throat.

The man had fought Kenshin in her dojo to avenge his sister's death, unwilling to believe that Kenshin killed her by accident. He'd witnessed her death at an impressionably young age more than a decade ago. Now, he was determined to transform Kenshin's life into a living hell.

Yukishiro smiled. He stalked towards her with his sword draped across his shoulders.

"There are no grudges between us," he said, "but in order to bring justice down upon Kenshin… I will have to make a sacrifice out of you."

His words sent a chill down her spine. She cursed silently for not fleeing the scene earlier.

The young woman had nothing on her but Kenshin's sword sheath, but she raised it anyway—the sweat on her palms threatening to dislocate her grip. She couldn't even be in her proper defensive stance because she was still in her work clothes from the Nippon Columbia factory.

He looked unimpressed. "Even if you struggle, Battousai will not come."

She noted that he called Kenshin by his former assassin's name, as if nothing had changed.

"If you try to fight," he continued, "the outcome won't be in your favour. If you behave, it won't be too painful for you."

While she was still frightened, the man's arrogance sparked her determination.

"I know that I won't win, but I can't surrender," she said. "Kenshin swore that in order to protect the innocent, he'd fight to the end."

She gritted her teeth. "So long as Kenshin doesn't give up, I won't surrender to you!"

Yukishiro's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Is that so?"

The figure disappeared into the smoke.

Kaoru looked around. A hand suddenly shot out from behind and covered her nose and mouth—suffocating her.

"Then there is no way around it," he whispered.

She struggled against him, but her world spun. Her body screamed for air. Her limbs flailed. She grabbed the offending hand on her face but couldn't pry it off. Her blood vessels were about to burst.

The sword sheath clattered to the ground with a hollow sound. She blacked out.

"How much longer?"

"Should be only about 20 minutes, sir."

The girl blearily opened her eyes. It felt like she had been staying too late at the Akebeko again. She really should take it easy on the sake.

Wait… she wasn't at the Akebeko last night.

Kaoru's memory came back when she noticed a tuft of white hair behind the leather seat in front of her. The musky smell of leather, cigars, and recently cleaned carpet infiltrated her nasal passages with full force, almost making her gag.

The wind made a screeching sound as it hurled past metal at several hundred miles per hour; pellets of rain rattled against glass windows; the propellers whizzed as it cut through cloud and sky; the ground shook intermittently.

She'd been kidnapped and was now on a private plane.

Her stomach felt like it made a freefall down the Empire State building.

She'd never been kidnapped nor been on a plane before. The latter could have been a pleasant novelty if it didn't mean that she was several thousand feet in the air, trapped with a Shanghai mafia lord probably keen on hurting her.

She thought of Kenshin and everyone else left back in her dojo. The image of Kenshin's wounded form pained her. Kenshin, please be okay, she prayed.

Where was Yukishiro taking her? Was he taking her outside of Japan? Her stomach wasn't consoled by this possibility. She'd never been outside of Japan and only had limited knowledge of other countries, although she was familiar with some American film and literature. The Meiji government had so far managed to modernize while remaining isolationist during the first half of the 20th Century.

Lying down on the carpeted floor, she remained as still as possible, hoping that Yukishiro and the others on the plane wouldn't notice that she was already awake. Her hands were bound by rope, but her lower limbs remained free.

"Are you sure it's only 20 minutes? You already said that half an hour ago," Yukishiro growled.

"I'm sorry sir, it's the best guess I have with this storm we're flying through," the pilot apologized, staring at the foreboding course ahead.

Lightning streaked across the sky.

The mafia lord muttered something and lit a cigar. She couldn't see much of him other than the glint of his yin-yang earring, the flash of his round spectacles, and a cigar between his long fingers. All that seemed to be missing was a tiger at his side, or an opium den. He reeked of seedy Shanghai underground.

Kaoru had to admit that seedy Shanghai underground didn't lack taste. Although the design was at least a decade old, it was still snappy. The interior of the private plane, in direct contrast to the stormy scene before them, was illuminated and decorated in 1930s Art Deco. The black leather seats of the plane were wide and designed with lounging in mind. The interior wall panels curved in a way that suggested a distant luxurious sensuality—like a silk dress carelessly draped over the curves of Marlene Dietrich.

Brass was inlaid tastefully throughout the craft to further emphasize the might of the aerodynamic machine. A beautifully crafted glass triangle rested beside Yukishiro—and this was an ashtray. The entire interior of the plane was a testament to the power of the Shanghai criminal underground and the triumph of the machine-age.

The girl flicked her eyes to investigate the rest of the plane. It appeared to her that there were only the two men with her on the craft. Even if she had her hands free, she had no chance of taking control of the situation… but having her hands free was better than nothing.

She braced herself against the floor as turbulence shook the plane. Taking a look around her more immediate surroundings, she couldn't find a sharp object to cut the ropes that bound her. Her attention shifted to the glint of red by the window.

Yukishiro noticed it too, almost jumping out of his seat. "The wing is on fire."

"I can't explain it sir," the pilot said, now barely audible through the pounding storm. "We'll just have to make a crash landing anywhere, hopefully on dry land and radio for support."

The mafia lord was tense. He put out his cigar and clenched his fist tightly against the armrest.

Tremors shook the plane. The ashtray slid off the table and crashed to the ground.

Kaoru became dizzy as the pilot became more desperate in his attempts to assert control. The plane rolled to the side and she slid to a wall with thud.

Yukishiro stood up and scrambled to get a life vest on. The plane began to free-fall.

The pilot was shouting something, but she could not hear a word he said as the plane nosedived into the deep waters of the Pacific, and all became eclipsed in a blanket of silence.

As the water came pouring into the plane, Kaoru had a final thought:

Triumphant machine-age my ass.

Cold water rushed into the vessel with an impossible force. Kaoru's body crashed against the walls of the plane and into numerous objects. One moment she was breathing air, the next moment she was swallowing water. It was hard to figure out which way was up, but she fought to keep her head up and used her bound hands to steady her body against a headrest. She had a moment to look around and take stock of the rapidly deteriorating situation. The exit door was open.

Knowing that her hands were still bound, she gritted her teeth. Kaoru took a deep breath and dove out into the unknown.

She kicked her way to the surface, and clung on to the first thing in front of her—a floating steamer trunk. She coughed up some salt water, and was greeted with the full force of a tropical storm. Heavy rain fell down like buckets of water, and lightning served to momentarily illuminate the dark clouds in the sky. Kaoru grimaced and looked around for survivors. The plane behind her was destroyed and parts of it were still ablaze.

"Hello?" Kaoru shouted. "Is anybody there?" Using the steamer trunk as a floatation device, she kicked her way around the crash site to get a better look at the plane interior. Behind the glass of the pilot's cabin, she saw the pilot in his uniform still strapped to his seat. The girl kicked her way closer to the pilot, and was about to shout for his attention when the entire plane sunk underwater, taking the pilot down with it.

She stared at the empty spot in the ocean where the plane used to be, and tried to fight off the growing sense of fear and dismay amidst the rain and black skies.

"No one's here to protect you, so you better smarten up," she whispered to herself.

She tried to cut her hands free with a sharp edge of the trunk. It wasn't working. Kaoru looked for anything useful in the surrounding debris… there was nothing. There was only debris and some floating cigars.

She squinted at the distance. An outline of land was visible not too far away, although it was hard to judge with this kind of visibility. It could take her maybe an hour to get there with her current movement speed.

Now that she had a target, the girl set on her course with determination, and kicked her way to safety with every ounce of energy and gusto in her bones. She kicked her way through the rain and tried her best to ignore the rumbling thunder and lightning strikes. The ocean currents pulled her in different directions; the waves pushed her back, but with each obstacle her determination only grew stronger.

She wondered about the other passenger of the plane—the infamous Enishi Yukishiro. Did he survive? Or did he get pulled down into the depths of the Pacific just like that poor nameless pilot? It wasn't clear which scenario was preferable: to be alone but free, or to have company but be captive.

As the girl continued to fight her way across the stormy waters, she looked around for a tuft of white hair in the inky black waters beyond. No luck. She continued her arduous journey. She tried hard not to think about how long it would take her to get to shore. Kenshin never gave up, if Kenshin were here, he'd get to shore with a serene smile possibly wind up finding the shortcut to enlightenment.

She lost track of time. It seemed like the outline of land wasn't getting any closer, and the waters of the Pacific stretched out into infinity. She was starting to feel like Sisyphus.

While Kaoru wrestled with her inner cynic, a ghost dove in behind her.

Kaoru shrieked and almost lost hold on her raft.

Yukishiro was beside her, holding on to her floating trunk, almost unrecognizable, as his hair was matted and dark grey from the saltwater. He looked haggard, injured, but still a far more robust swimmer than her.

It helps that he doesn't have his hands bound, she thought with resentment.

"Hold on to me," Yukishiro shouted over the storm, doing his best to keep his chin above the water and the oncoming waves. "You'll get to shore faster."

Kaoru looked at him in suspicion while trying to defend herself against the next wave that crashed over their heads.

Yukishiro looked impatient. "You're useless to me dead. What are you waiting for?"

She thought about it for a second, and nodded.

"Carry these packs and hold on to my back," he commanded, passing her his packs.

"How? My hands are bound. I can't put them on."

Her captor produced a small knife, sawed off the twine around her wrists, and freed her. She donned on the packs and made sure that they were secure. After that, she positioned herself behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. Here goes nothing.

"Make sure nothing falls off," he said, "including you."

Kaoru nodded, and the man bolted through water. Her mind was completely devoid of expectation, as she was focused on keeping her head up, and had a singular focus on the slice of land in front of them that slowly loomed closer.

About a half hour later, they finally reached shore. The stormy skies cleared up, the thunderstorm ceased, and blue skies greeted them just in time. Kaoru almost couldn't believe it…they were here, but where?

Both stragglers crawled slowly on to the beach and collapsed on white sand.

Yukishiro looked exhausted. His eyes fluttered. He whispered something.

Kaoru crawled her way toward him, dragging her wet salt-drenched body across the pristine white sand like a worm.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Don't…" then his eyes closed, pulled into unconsciousness.

"What?" Kaoru repeated, shaking him. "What do you need to tell me?"

He managed to open his eyes for an instant.

"Don't try to run away, and don't try to kill me."

He passed out. Kaoru tried to stand up but exhaustion weakened her knees. She collapsed on the ground and drifted into a fitful sleep.

Kaoru opened her sand-encrusted eyes and saw an eagle.

The eagle circled, and found a nearby perch. It looked down at her with its head cocked sideways in disdain.

The look reminded her of Yukishiro.

Kaoru's senses kicked into gear in a sudden rush of activity, overwhelming her.

"Gah!" was her response to a throbbing headache. The hot sun overhead beat down on the scene. She was covered in sand like breaded pork katsu, and probably just as salty too. She sat up, slightly disoriented, and rubbed the sand off her face with her equally sand-encrusted hands—which made the process less efficient than it should have been.

She stood up and examined herself. Much to her surprise, her penny loafers managed to cling on to her feet throughout the journey. Her clothes were wet and itchy with salt water, and her wool skirt was uncomfortably heavy. She also didn't lose the humble blue ribbon that she wore in her hair. Four limbs, ten fingers… she was a bit sore but otherwise all right.

The girl took a quick look at the villain's body a few feet across from her. He looked like a terrible mess. His breathing was light but steady; he wasn't a corpse yet.

She didn't feel too sorry for him, it was his fault for picking the fight in the first place.

She rummaged through the packs that Yukishiro asked her to carry. They had some sort of waterproof lining so the items were only damp at the very worst. The packs contained some useful items: a small axe, some matches, a flashlight, a first aid kit, and some rope. Of course, the longer pack held his Watou sword. Kaoru resisted the urge to smack him with the sword hilt for getting her into this mess in the first place. At least the bastard was well prepared.

Kaoru squinted up above. The sun was still up and close to the middle of the sky, so she likely hadn't slept for too long. Time to get cracking and figure out where in God's green earth she was.

What surrounded them was the Pacific Ocean on one side, a dense tropical forest on the other, and a shoreline that stretched out into infinity. There seemed to be no manmade structures in the vicinity or even a manmade pathway. It wasn't too promising, but it was time to explore.

Kaoru was about to reach for Yukishiro's Watou for protection when she hesitated. As a fellow swordsman, she knew that wielding someone else's sword without their permission was a big taboo, it was akin to being on the lawn with someone else's wife. That won't do. She retracted her hand and reached for the small axe instead. The girl rolled up her sleeves, took one last look around her, and headed into the towering lush wilderness.

The florae of the bush were a combination of familiar species found on Japan's southern islands and some fairly exotic ones like the overabundant palm tree. She came across a patch of healthy bamboo plants, and decimated a young one with her axe. The girl chopped it to a more manageable length and weighed it, throwing it from hand to hand. Voila, a makeshift bokken.

Now more confident with a weapon in each hand, Kaoru did some more exploring. She made sure to stick close along the shoreline because she feared losing her way. There were still no visible signs of human life or human development.

"Hello?" Kaoru shouted. An angry shriek scared her out of her wits and put her on her defensive stance, but she sighed in relief when she saw that it was only the irate eagle giving her a response. She shook her bamboo bokken at the eagle in warning, and the eagle looked only haughtier if it was possible.

At some distance, she spotted a wooden structure. It was a small shack, or at least it used to be one. It appeared to be built without awareness of the industrial revolution and indoor plumbing. She crept toward it and knocked on the door. The door opened with a creak out of its own volition.

"Hello?" she said, peeking in.

It would have been dark if it weren't for the two small crude windows on either side of the one-room structure. She felt like she stepped into a time warp. It was about as rustic as rustic could get. A thatched rooftop sat on top of planks of wood cut into irregular sizes which were all held up together by an impossible stroke of luck. A sad weathered stool sat by a moth-eaten desk, and there was no electricity to speak of. The place didn't even have the simple dignity of a traditional cottage with sliding shoji doors or tatami flooring bathed in soothing natural light. Instead, it was a place created by a man who had no concept of comfort or culture, and only understood the drive of sheer necessity.

She walked in, and poked at portions of the dusty and cobwebbed room with her bamboo bokken. The place seemed abandoned and in the process of being eaten away by the elements. There were no real clues as to the identity of the previous resident other than the pile of old fishing tools at the corner of the room. No pictures, no skeletons in closets, no nothing. There wasn't even a closet, although there was a large chest.

Kaoru tilted her head at an angle to shield her nose from the layers of dust, and opened the chest.

Jackpot.

What lay inside the chest were two grubby looking but serviceable futons, complete with some coarse sheets. She had the right to sleep on decent sheets after having been kidnapped and having escaped from a plane crash on the same day. She had been through a lot with Kenshin and their ragtag crew of a former assassin, opium dealer, street-brawler, thief-child, and a ninja or two on occasion—but today's events had certainly taken the cake.

After some rearranging of furniture, Kaoru was satisfied with the loot she found. She journeyed her way back to the part of the beach where the rest of her supplies lay and, of course, the unconscious body of Enishi Yukishiro.

She nudged her captor's form with her toe. No response. He was the most miserable body she had ever seen short of being dead.

The young man seemed so dethroned from his position of rich criminal mastermind as his shirt was torn to shreds and he was missing one Chinese slipper. Bruises lined his face, sword cuts were liberally sprinkled across his arms and torso, and his left arm needed badly to be in a sling. He was going to get blisters from severe sunburn if he didn't get to shade soon. The only parts of him left intact were his round spectacles hanging from his shirt collar and his left yin-yang earring.

Kaoru felt proud of the amount of damage that Kenshin did to the jerk, but a part of her didn't want him to suffer any more pain.

What now? The girl was torn between leaving him dead, or to bandage him up—hoping that he wouldn't kill her while she slept. Sano would opt for the former, and Kenshin the latter.

Yukishiro had freed her from her bonds and carried her weight to shore, but he still kidnapped her and tied her up in the first place. His karma all totaled up with the property damage he inflicted, including destroying the Akebeko, resulted in a very negative number. The man was dangerous, and he could only get worse.

Before meeting Kenshin, Kaoru would have chosen the first option, but the little red-headed wanderer influenced her more than she'd care to admit.

Kenshin had a fantastic talent for befriending enemies, and becoming stronger for it. He'd reach a hand out to anyone, regardless of the bad blood between them or even when—it usually happened during a fight. She feared that his outstretched benevolent hand would get lopped off one day, but it has been working so far. Maybe it would work with this jerk. Kenshin would be crazy enough to bandage him up, so Yukishiro would owe him one. Maybe Yukishiro would abort his vengeance quest, although that was a slim chance.

So that was what Kaoru Kamiya did with her captor. She bandaged him, cleaned him, and put his left arm in a sling. She wasn't quite sure if she did it all properly, but she watched Megumi fix up Sano enough times to guess that she covered the basics.

By the time she was done, the sun had set over the horizon, and the mosquitoes were starting to come out in packs like hungry wolves.

Yukishiro managed to stay unconscious throughout the operation, but it was time to wake him up. She wasn't going to haul his sorry ass all by herself, she'd done plenty already.

"Hey," Kaoru said, shaking him.

He didn't stir.

"HEY! Vengeance Guy. Wake up!" she slapped him.

Yukishiro floated back to consciousness, his eyes red from exhaustion and irritation from the saltwater.

"—Tomoe?" Yukishiro murmured in a daze.

Kaoru frowned. "Nope. Your sister isn't back from the dead. Just your prisoner." She hoisted his right arm over her shoulders. "I know you're hurt and all, but try to walk. I'm not going to carry you."

He had a hard time getting up, but he eventually got on to his feet. He limped his way forward while placing his weight on Kaoru. It was ridiculous to get leaned on by a person who was at least eight inches taller than her and almost twice her weight, but she somehow managed. Not like it was any easier for her since she was also carrying the packs. She led him to the dilapidated shack and let him collapse on a futon. He passed out in the position he landed.

Kaoru hauled the second futon to the other side of the shack, and hid Yukishiro's Watou sword beneath it… just as a precaution. She jumped on to it and curled in the fetal position, wishing all the mosquitoes away.

Fatigue and muscle strain overtook her, and she drifted off to sleep, grumbling.

The bastard didn't even say thank you.