Child of a frog is a frog.

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For Sakura Otome because, well, he/she asked. And what was supposed to be a drabble became more of a one-shot. Thank you for the inspiration and sorry it took so long!

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Although she never knew it as a child, Kamiya Kaoru was taught to be great long before she knew she wanted to be just that. Her parents made sure to give her the handholds, the little wisdoms that would put her on a path that would make sure that one day she would inspire others as well.

Even when she was just a child with a pink yukata and carefully braided hair, her mother's hands had only just begun to hold a constant tremor, she was followed by the wisdom of her father. He enjoyed teaching her the old sayings, the tiny little wisdoms of life that she only ever heard grown up say.

Flower, Bird, Wind, Moon.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" Kaoru had chirped with the energy only a five year old could have, "Look what I have found!"

Proud and unconcerned about the mud already caking her chubby little hands, Kaoru carefully lifted her prize to show to her parents.

As it was a mild summer's day even her mother was out sowing, her cool blue eyes that Kaoru inherited kind and gentle but already holding that touch of sorrow that Kaoru would later inevitably remember the most about her. Her father was practising his swings but he set aside his wooden sword the moment his daughter approached. Carefully he kneeled so that she could show him her found of the day without standing on her tip toes.

Between Kaoru's little fingers was the biggest toad she had ever seen in her life. Its throat swelled and shrunk rapidly with every breath and already she discovered that if she held him gently enough he'd utter a morose sounding croak that made her giggle.

"Now Kaoru," Her mother teased from her place on the porch, "I'm not sure mister toad there appreciates being carried around."

Immediately, Kaoru dropped to her knees to set down the toad she had taken so long to catch. A little surprised by its sudden freedom it said unmoving in the shadow of her little form.

"I'm sorry mister toad! I didn't mean to hurt you," She told him, genuinely, and to her child's mind the toad's low croak was a sign of acceptance.

"Look at my daughter, so wise for her years!" Her father's deep voice rumbled as it only did when he was truly merry. All too soon Kaoru felt his large calloused hand settle heavily on top of her head. "Already she knows: Flower, Bird, Wind and Moon. As one experiences nature one learns more about themselves."

Not quite sure what her father meant, Kaoru nevertheless locked his words away in her heart and glowed with pride. And yet, and it was the same with every lesson that he would teach her after; she would not immediately understand the fullest of what he was teaching her. For as she smiled a smile filled with holes where teeth would grow she had no way of knowing that his words would come back to whisper to her.

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After all, Kaoru was only five at the time and could not appreciate the beauty of the cherry blossom until she began to appreciate how it returned each year. Until she was old enough to understand how comforting it was to know that some things stayed the same.

Being five, she had no way of knowing that one day the light of the fireflies would comfort her. That she watched fireflies when the dark seemed just a little too deep and there was no one to the Kamiya name but her. That, just by paying attention to her surroundings, she would understand that she could find light even in the darkest of times.

Being five, she had no clue that, years later, she would take comfort in the knowledge that the moon she saw was the same that a certain someone would see, if he'd only look at it. That by looking up at that moon she would understand that nature that the power to bring people together, if only for a moment.

Being five she had no idea that she would someday smile as Yahiko carefully coaxed a snail on a stick to deposit it away from the sidewalk, making sure that no one stepped on it. That she would appreciate the gust of wind that fuelled Sano's sails, bringing him back from China that much faster.

That at the age of twenty-three she would smile as her son poked at the flowers in her garden with obvious wonder, loving the bright colours that grew so naturally. That she would look at him and think: Flower, Bird, Wind and Moon.

Later in life, she would look at the world around her and remember her father.

If you do not enter the tiger's cave, you will not catch its cub.

For weeks, even months after her mother's death Kaoru was afraid of the world. The one person in her life to who she could always run for comfort had abruptly been taken away. No more gentle fingers to wave her braids and no one to listen to her complain about other children's teasing.

Having become used to the signs of her mother's illness, Kaoru's eight-year-old mind was struggling to adapt to the concept that the illness had finally won. That it wasn't something that was simply a part of her mother but a real threat finally carried out.

All she knew that something had taken her mother away and nothing had been strong enough to stop it.

Not even her father, who had always seemed so tall and strong, had been able to protect her from death. He certainly seemed to blame himself; she could hear him apologizing to her shrine almost every night until he caught her watching one day. After he caught her he was careful to keep his concerns private but she knew they had not stopped. It made her realize the vulnerability of her father: how he too could be taken away just as sudden as her mother had.

Nightmare began to plague her once pleasant dreams, the food they ate lost its taste and whenever her father was out of sight she would feel out of breath and panicky. Her once so loud mouth became still and people began to get used to the sight of her peeking out from behind her father's leg. Soon they stopped seeing her altogether as her father continued his teachings and had less time to take her to the market with him.

Although she could not put it to words, there was an undeniable loneliness that was making her stomach ache. Together with the anguish of losing her mother it formed a knot that she carried with her everywhere she went. Kaoru's tummy ached all the time these days but she tried to bear it bravely.

She had to be brave, now, for she had no one to make it better. She didn't know how she knew that she couldn't turn to her father, lean on his support, like she used to. All she knew was that her mother would always hug her tight and offer to make her herbal tea when her tummy ached. But her mother wasn't there anymore and her father didn't know how to make the tea. And that, to Kaoru, was the way to explain the difference between her past and current life.

However, one day the ache was too strong to ignore and with tears in her eyes she searched the home for her father. She wasn't surprised to find her father practising his sword techniques; he had become obsessed with it after her mother's death, but for the first time she stopped to really look.

Every movement he made was controlled, moving exactly where and how her father wanted it to go. He became another person when practising sword, he became more. Powerful, yes, but also controlled and confident and even her small mind could appreciate that it was the control that stunned her the most.

Kaoru looked at her father and saw the courage she had lost.

Perhaps encouraged by his daughter's interest, the brightness of curiosity finally filling her big blue eyes for the first time since her mother's death, her father continued his practise for longer than he used to. Sweat covered his body, soaking the fabric of his gear, but it seemed like a cleansing process: whole, pure.

When he finally turned to her he smiled, a tired and somewhat sad smile, yes, but no longer the empty fake smile she was becoming used to.

"Look at you staring, little Kaoru," He teased her gently, "Why this sudden curiosity?"

"I think I want to learn how to do that," Kaoru spoke and she found that she had not known that this is what she wanted. And yet it was undeniable, now, that she ached to learn the secrets of her father's sword technique.

"You think you want to learn?" Her father asked gently but there was a frown hovering over his face, a thoughtful one, not the kind that she saw him give his students when they were misbehaving, "You don't sound too sure, little Kaoru."

Kaoru hesitated, but her seven-year old mind would not let go of the image of her father, of his power and elegance during his sword practise.

"I'm afraid," She admitted, blue eyes troubled and though she opened her mouth she could not put to words what made her so afraid: what had kept her in a constant state of fear since her mother's passing. Instead she had to settle for a smaller, nagging fear, that was there as well; "I might hurt myself."

"Ah, little Kaoru," Her father sighed and when he smiled this time, it was with the understanding of an adult. The way he used to smile before her mother passed away and she came to him with her childish questions.

"If you do not enter the tiger's cave, you will not catch its cub," He said but Kaoru could only shake her head in confusion.

"I don't understand. What do tigers have to do with swordsmanship?"

"It means you can't do anything without risking something," He explained gently before offering a glance to the gates where his students were already gathering, "Why don't you think about what you want and come to me in the morning with your answer?"

Kaoru showed up for class the next day.

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At seventeen a new fear had taken hold of Kaoru and it would not let go.

Her back was firmly pressed against the wall but her head was turned towards the direction of the man that had passed her only seconds ago. There was no mistaking it, she had seen the man who she had both hunted and dreaded for weeks now.

The grip on her trusty wooden sword was more slippery than she would like it to be, as cold sweat could not be avoided. Her heart was beating in her ears and her breath seemed impossible to catch, staying superficial and shallow. This man had murdered people, used his steel to cut open skin and tear into tissue and did it again just a night later.

Rumours had to be exaggerated, surely he had not killed twenty men only last night, but that did not make him less frightening. If even half of them were true then she was chasing after her death. Death by the name of Battousai.; Battousai who was a manslayer as well as claimed student of the Kamiya Kasshin- ryu.

But he had disgraced her family's name, the precious sword art of her father, and he had done so quite deliberately. By announcing the sword style he used, her family's sword style, the man had doomed her already struggling dojo and chased off almost all of her students. People were whispering now, wondering what kind of woman she was, what kind of father she had had, to teach such a dangerous style to a brute of a man.

She peered around the corner, looking at the back of a man she was about to attack. He wore his sword proudly, unashamed and unafraid of the police and again she was reminded of the things she'd heard. Gossip had said pointed out this lack of fear for the police and the way he evaded them numerous times only to boast about it later. It was said that he was well connected, that police were not truly trying to catch him but quite happy to let him go.

It was clear that this was her last chance to go back on her decision. To decide that the name of her family was not as important as her life, something which she was clearly risking by going up against a skilled swordsmen with nothing but her guts and a wooden sword.

Kaoru looked at Battousai's back and heard the gentle voice of her father in her mind, and for the first time she truly understood: if you do not enter the tiger's cave, you will not catch its cub.

Kaoru tightened her grip on her wooden sword and gave chase.

Even monkeys fall from trees.

It wasn't always easy being the daughter of the honourable teacher of her own class. Every mistake was noticed, every flaw outlined clearly by the rude boys of her class that were all too eager to point them out. Never when her father was looking, of course, but they found plenty of ways to mock her skill.

It didn't help that she was already ten and supposed to learn the art of cooking, the craft of sewing and the secrets of laundry. While she was perfecting her skills of the sword, meditation and scribe there was no one to teach her how to become a dutiful housewife.

Emboldened by his daughter's uncovered talent her father chose to spend extra time honing her sword techniques and only occasionally remembered to ask the neighbouring women to teach his daughter. Kaoru never complained, she enjoyed the attention and found that same purifying strength every time she picked up her sword.

But it did mean that the boys of her class could hold this over her head.

The only thing that shut them up Kaoru discovered was making sure she was better, faster, and stronger. Hard work and dedication combined with a natural talent made this possible for her but that did not mean she always succeeded. Kaoru, after all, was only a little girl and her talent could only bring her so far.

Today, for the third day in a row, she failed to master one particular sword movement her father was teaching. To make matters worse, she had tripped on the hem of the hakama that was still just slightly too big for her. In front of her entire class she had stumbled and fallen flat on her face and, naturally, they had not let her live this down.

It didn't matter that at least half the class was still unable to perform it perfectly. The boys were all too eager to tease this "unskilled housewife" with her obvious failure.

If she couldn't be a perfect swordsman, they all but laughed, then what's the point of giving up the chance of ever finding a husband? Might as well go ask lady Sekihara to finally teach her how to cook a decent dinner! Her father, occupied with another student at the time, had not heard their teasing and afterwards had not realized what further innocent sounding remarks truly had meant.

By the end of their lesson, Kaoru was close to tears.

Stubbornly she clung onto her pride, refusing to let anyone see her cry. It didn't take her long to find a perfect hiding space behind the dojo and a large rock to sit on. Sure, it was muddy and her clothing was probably getting dirty but no one would bother to look for her in the narrow strip between the dojo and the fence.

However, she had been here for hours, ever since their lesson and dinner would be starting soon. She knew her father would look for her but she longed to prolong that moment just a little longer. She had only recently stopped crying after all and her eyes were bound to still be red because of it.

Even though she was a child, she keenly felt the sting of shame that came with not living up to her family's name.

"There you are," her father's warm voice came from besides her but Kaoru didn't dare to look at him. Instead she curled up a little further, drawing up her knees and folding her arms around them somewhat tightly.

"Now little Kaoru, what is the matter?" Her father persisted but his voice was strained.

A peek from behind her bangs showed that he was having difficulty squeezing in the area between the dojo and the fence. As she watched however, he squeezed in far enough to settle besides her and quickly she hid her face again. A heavy hand came to rest on her shoulder and though Kaoru looked away from her father she knew he was smiling.

"Is this about practise today?" He asked knowingly and before Kaoru could stop herself she nodded in answer. She pressed her forehead against her knees, hiding her face a little more fully, so that when she answered her voice was muffled.

"I still can't do it. I try so hard but I can't get my body to do what my mind tells it to. And now I've tripped! In front of everybody!"

Even muffled, her voice clearly conveyed her frustration but there was a hint of fear as well. Admitting this to her father cost her greatly in terms of pride. She wanted him to be proud of her and to be able to boast about her quick learning. She did not want him having to admit that she couldn't even stay on her feet during practise…

But the reprimand that she was half expecting never came. Instead her father's large hand rested gently on her head before stroking over it, lightly tugging on her hairs to urge her to look at him.

"Little Kaoru, there is no need to be ashamed," He told her and when she looked up at him in surprise he send her a smile big enough to show off the wrinkles near his eyes, "Even monkeys fall from trees. No matter how hard one works, everyone is bound to make mistakes in their lives. There's nothing wrong with that."

"But they said-" She began to protest but her father merely laughed loud enough to muffle her words and shook his head.

"Being little monkeys themselves, it would be wise for them to remember that they have made quite embarrassing mistakes and quite often at that," He told her before holding out his hand to pull her upright, "Now come, dinner is ready."

Kaoru grinned and stood with the help of her father. And as they made their way back to their home she decided that mistakes might not be such a bad thing after all.

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When Kaoru was twenty-one she both admired and despaired over Kenshin's obvious talent. It seemed that the man could not fail at anything he attempted. Everything the man touched, tried, or undertook always worked out in the end. It seemed all that the man needed to do was give something his full attention and it just went with whatever he was attempting.

There were times where she wondered whether he was even human or just a figment of her imagination brought on by a sudden heat stroke.
Kenshin insisted that he only taught himself to cook because his mentor refused to and that it was sheer luck that anything decent had come from it.

Luck, however, could not explain how everyone would refuse what she had cooked and positively salivate over the man's cooking. Luck could not explain how the combination of spices and careful guidance would turn an ordinary fish into soft and juicy meat. Luck could not explain how nothing burned, nothing overcooked, and nothing, ever, tasted either too salty or too bland when Kenshin had had a hand in it.

No one questioned how he did the laundry, even though some asked why and then accepted his explanation about making sure he was not too much of a burden. Kaoru, however, could not stop herself from wondering how he did it.

She had noticed how even the laundry became perfect in Kenshin's hands, how the white and light colours were always spotless. Even when spicy dark red sauce was spilled on the pristine white of a rarely used table cloth, Kenshin somehow still managed to coax the stain out of it. Her kimono's were always flawless, smelling of fresh winds and even her training gear would not hold onto even the smallest whiff of her sweat no matter how hard she had pushed herself.

The worst part of it was probably how she never saw him do the same laundry multiple times. Stains that would take her two, maybe three separate washes, Kenshin somehow managed to get rid off after only one tub of hot water.

Even failing he did perfectly.

For laughs, for giggles, to put people at ease or to throw off suspicion Kenshin regularly made a fool out of himself. If it wasn't for the sake of Ayame and Suzume's laughter then it was to make Sano grin. He pretended not to be able to doge her punches to serve as her personal stress reliever. And he gave them all the ultimate relief when, days after fighting Shishio, he finally sounded like his usual clueless self with a simple uttered: "Oro?"

Above all, his swordsmanship deserved the title of: 'perfection'. He practically existed for the single purpose of changing the world with his swordsmanship. Not a single swing needed to be repeated, not a single stabbed missed target.

Kenshin could coax the most subtle of movements in fast moving steel and then force it to come to a perfect stop a second later. He was aware of every part of his body and controlled every inch of it to put the maximum strength into his attacks. He could use his speed to overwhelm his victims but never, ever, did he let it overwhelm him.

The more she watched the man the more Kaoru despaired over his lack of flaws. Did the man ever make a single mistake?

Then one day she brought him tea while he was practising in the dojo. Assuming that he could sense her approach, as he always did, she slid open the door without warning.

The sword instructor had underestimated how caught up in his practise the former assassin had been, however. At the sharp sound of the sliding door hitting the wall, Kenshin turned on the ball of his feet to face her but he moved faster than expected. The bindings of his sandals snapped and with a startled, "Oro?" he toppled over. From the way he seemed to flabbergasted to find himself on the floor, the sword instructor knew that for once Kenshin had not meant to make a fool out of himself.

Kaoru put down the tea to offer him help but even as she did so she could not fight the secret smile and the unbidden thought: Even monkeys fall from trees.

And, truthfully, knowing that was a bit of a relief these days.

A frog in a well does not know the great sea.

"The Chizuru girl was teasing me again today," Kaoru was twelve and frustrated, putting down the tofu her father had instructed her to get on their kitchen table, "She wanted me to sow a hole in her kimono in front of all her friends. As if I act on command like some kind of circus monkey!"

"Now Kaoru, your sowing is getting better after every tear you fix," Her father told her mildly, his eyes on the dinner he was preparing. He knew better than to let his daughter touch what still had to be eaten. "I'm sure that you'll be just as good as her before too long."

"She can do patterns," Kaoru grouched, frowning deeply and crossing her arms. It did nothing to improve her mood as it only made a small patch on the arm of her kimono that much more obvious. It wasn't a disaster but her patching skills came nowhere near Chizuru's neat thin stitches. And that wasn't all, either.

"Not to mention that she can cook."

"Ah…well…" For a moment even her father struggled for words but then he shrugged, "That will come in time, I'm sure."

"She says," Kaoru continued but could not hold her father's eye. Instead she began to pick at a stray threat, coming from the fabric that she had fixed, "..that I'm dishonouring my family. That someone should teach me how to be a proper wife. That…t-that losing my mother is no excuse for me to forget how to be a woman."

For a moment all was silent except for the steady sounds that came from her father's neat chopping. Then finally he sighed and Kaoru expected him to look at her. When she looked up however she found that he was staring out the window with a hint of a smile hovering his lips.

"A frog in a well does not know the great sea," he told her mildly and with a decided nod, as if that settled everything, focused once more on the soup he was making. As he was sliding the vegetables off the chopping board however, Kaoru could only frown at him in confusion.

"What does that mean?" She asked curiously, knowing better than to ignore her father's odd sayings by now. She studied him curiously and to her satisfaction he smiled his indulgent, ever patient smile.

"It means that people are satisfied to judge things by their own narrow experience," He told her in what she had dubbed as his 'instructor voice', "Even if that means that they never learn of the whole world outside. Promise me that you'll remember, little Kaoru. That you'll think of the world outside of your well and not become like poor Chizuru who cannot understand how different the life of another is."

"I promise," Kaoru answered, even though she had the nagging suspicion that she had still not understood the fullest of her father's teaching.

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At seventeen Kaoru met Megumi and they fell in instant and mutual dislike.

Megumi was sly, graceful, and confident and everything that Kaoru felt she could never be. Megumi was capable at her job as a doctor and yet that somehow never stopped her from being a woman. No one questioned Megumi's attractiveness, no one accused the doctor of being a tomboy. Her words were her swords and she was so much more adept at using these means of attack than Kaoru was.

Compared to the pale, beautiful,pristine Megumi, Kaoru felt like a sloppy, dirty tomboy and was constantly reminded that she could not even cook. Megumi was practically the perfect housewife and the vixen never let her forget it.

Megumi was aware of how the world worked, how men worked, and she moved in it like a smart vixen sneaking into the chicken enclosure. Besides her Kaoru felt like a child, like a girl not a woman and it only flared her already dangerous temper. Naturally, Megumi took great joy out of teasing Kaoru about that very same temper and their rocky relationship continued.

To make matters worse, Megumi revealed that she might even be more knowledgeable in the ways of love.

It was the doctor, after all, who finally got her to snap out of her distraction. Megumi forced her to remember her father, his teachings, to remember herself until she was following Kenshin to Kyoto before she knew it. Unsure, yes, somewhat afraid of what she would find, certainly, but Megumi's firm words haunted Kaoru's every step. She could not let her win after all, not when their mutual dislike was quite so strong.

It all changed when Megumi spoke to her in Kyoto.

Suddenly the doctor hinted at an affection she held towards Kenshin which Kaoru vastly underestimated. Megumi watched, worried, listened and understood everything that Kaoru had seen, fretted about, heard and understood. Kenshin had not just saved Megumi's life but his presence had given her a hope for the future. Kenshin had reminded Megumi that she was not alone in this world and was that not exactly what Kaoru appreciated most about Kenshin herself?

Gracefully the vixen gave up her attempts at winning over Kenshin's heart if that meant someone else could win him. Simply put, Megumi would do what she could to ensure Kenshin's happiness. Was that not exactly what kept Kaoru up at night, thinking of the ways she could do the very same?

Quite suddenly Kaoru understood that Megumi was truly not very different from herself.

All that it took for her to understand this was opening her eyes and truly paying attention to what she saw for the very first time. Without judgement, without her own insecurities blocking the truth from her, Kaoru looked at Megumi and saw herself. And as she studied the small sad smile that the doctor had worn she thought: a frog in a well does not know the great sea.

It seemed that even she too would have to remember to look out of her small well sometimes.

Wake from death and return to life.

Kaoru was sixteen they held her father's funeral. As with her mother's death, Kaoru found her mind struggling to catch up with the notion that her father was truly cut out of her life, now. As a child she had gotten used to her mother's illness and as a young woman she had gotten used to her father being at the front. In both cases she paid for her naive complacency.

The thought that he would no longer come back, that his many and precious letters would stop, could not be absorbed by a mind that seemed to have stopped functioning. She dealt with the funeral, with the well-wishes, with the letters of old friends of her father's with the grace that he had taught her. But she was only capable of doing this because a numbness had settled over her body, separating her from the world and the reality that her father was no longer in it.

At night she searched her home as if she would somehow find him sitting there, finishing his favourite tea, if only she looked hard enough.

Grief was an ever constant companion, sometimes settling heavily in her heart and sometimes sinking to her stomach like a stone until she could no longer find her appetite. It was hard to make herself get up each day, facing the world with only her kimono to shield her from it. There was no one left to protect her.

And there was so much to be protected from.

Bills did not wait for her to stop grieving and the money her father left her was drying up fast. The students of her father came to an empty dojo and then did not come at all. Without a guardian she stood out even more than she had before and her neighbours, under the guise of being 'concerned', felt free to judge her. On top of all this was the fact that the closet containing her groceries had been empty for a week, now.

Kaoru, however, could not find the energy or the will to face the word. Drinking only herbal tea she sat on her front porch in one of her father's old kimono and grieved.

Then one day a letter arrived.

My dearest little Kaoru,

Sitting by the fire of our camp your old man is caught up in memories, as old men tend to be. Oh how tiny you were when you were first born, screaming healthily before the doctor had the chance to pinch you! Why, I never knew that was possible until you showed me.

And you have shown me so very different things, Kaoru, wondering at the simple things of life and making your old man see them, truly see them, for what they were. You made sure I would never look at toads as nothing more than slimy creatures again the first time I saw one clutched in your tiny little hands.

Your mother and I were so very proud of you. I'm not sure whether I've told you quite often enough, little Kaoru, how proud you make me. You face the world with an endless strength and optimism that young people ever take for granted. It's hard to find optimism in this place, now, so I spend many evenings thinking of your smiles. My favourites are the ones you used to send me when you were missing so many teeth!

You never seemed afraid to smile at the world. Then again, maybe I am mistaking. I remember the way the world frightened you, once, so many years ago. I know that you remember the day your honourable mother died and the dark weeks that followed. Strangely, I remember what came after just as clearly.

The first time you held a sword in your hands (which seemed far too small for so much steel!) something seemed to happen. Light returned to your eyes: curiosity. You were eager to learn again. So eager that you not just faced your fears but cast them aside. You fled from darkness, Kaoru, and made sure to drag me with you.

You reminded me of a favourite saying of mine: Wake from death and return to life.

It means; to come out of a desperate situation and make a complete return in one sudden burst. And it was despair that you felt from losing your mother. But you returned, you returned and look at you now! Ready to become a sword instructor of your own right and a good one at that.

I fear that the battle tomorrow might be our last. Our honourable general refuses to admit it but one can read it in his face. Remember my words, Kaoru, and remember my teachings. I have no doubt that you will carry on until we meet again.

And we will meet again. No matter what happens, know that this is the truth.

Take care of yourself,

Your father.

Kaoru read the letter until she ran out of tears and then she read it until the wrinkles caused by her hands made permanent lines. Then, carefully, she folded up the letter and lovingly tucked it away in a secure corner of her mother's jewellery box. She shed her father's kimono and replaced it with a kimono of her own that was bright and cheerful.

Then she went to get food that would last her the entire week. And after that? After that it was time she found herself some students.

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Kaoru was nineteen when they held her funeral.

Although she was not really dead, the sword instructor would soon realize her friends had been forced to say goodbye to her nevertheless. They had not just said their farewells but they had been forced to think about what that meant. Her early death had forced them to face demons they would normally not face until years later. And demons, it turned out, that were not that easily to banish.

It took Sano three days before he stopped slipping money in her pouches that otherwise would have been spent gambling. There was guilt, there, yes but also a new kind of understanding. He stopped inhaling her food and started telling Yahiko off for complaining about what she had cooked. It was odd to think that her death had made Sano think only of how he had inconvenienced her in the past.

Although she enjoyed it at first, keeping them all fed did cost a lot of money after all, Kaoru soon yearned for the old times where everything felt natural and not quite that forced. Where Sano naively assumed that his presence was always welcome and that the thought that it would be a burden on her finances never occurred to him.

Luckily, the rooster-head only needed one good scolding from her to remind him that she was not that easy to have around either. And she made sure that he remembered that she did not mind giving.

Nevertheless, he still made a point of contributing to their food supply when it ran low but that, really, was only fair.

Yahiko would not stop teasing her. His laughter was too loud, his mischief was unleashed far too often and it seemed he was incapable of letting her attention rest on someone else for too long. Her apprentice became so adept at finding her weak spots, her insecurities, her pet peeves; she found it difficult to realize what it was truly all about.

He had not left her side until her sudden reappearance, weeks before, but the confinement made him restless. Staying in one spot did not allow him to burn off his excess energy and the boy could not stop himself from taking it out on her.

And yet, several times, she caught him declining Tsubame's invitation to join her on a shopping trip despite the fact that she had to walk past several shops to come collect him first. The ego boost alone would've normally had him trailing her heels like a love-sick puppy.

Since gentle pushing hardly ever worked with her dear apprentice, Kaoru gave him a heavy workout before grabbing him by the collar and dragging him with her to the Akabeko. When he stayed there when she left, after some gentle persuading on her side, she took that as a good sign.

Yahiko became less needy after that but he made a point of letting his appreciation show where, before her "death" he would have been too proud. And that, really, was alright.

Kenshin had changed the most. The moment she caught his stumbling body on the beach they had reached a new, if unspoken, understanding. Having him at her side was no longer such a cause for distress when stolen glances reassured her that he would no longer be leaving. Kenshin was no longer a wanderer but just a man and he, out of all of them, reminded her that change was not always bad.

The first time that he reached out and took her hand in his, a careful but confident gesture, she looked up to search his face for a hint of his thoughts. Seeing him meet her stare and smile, she suddenly became aware of where she was sitting. Together with her laughing friends and a man no longer afraid to call her house his home she once again thought of the wisdom of her father: Wake from death and return to life.

And life, it turned out, was going to be just fine.