Megumi flipped a white cloth, flicking water across the thin wall of the
doctorâs house. Dr. Genzai had long since left, leaving her alone to clean
up, and her last patient had been quite a while ago. She flicked her long,
black hair over her left shoulder almost carelessly, and then placed the
cloth on the drying rack. She pulled off her gloves, and laid them next to
the cloth, ever so carefully. The blood that had stained the cloth was
nearly out - her gloves werenât so lucky. Well, at least she had an excuse
with those - she needed new sterile surgical gloves. Perhaps she could run
down to the market sometime today and find a suitable pair.

Her head swiveled to the din outside, and her thin lips twisted into a scowl
of irritation. Didnât they know she had important work to do? Who, or what
was making that noise? Calling out at this hour, making a sound like an
injured bobcat, how could... and as the footsteps grew distinctively louder,
closer, the voice grew clearer, a voice calling ... her name? How ...
Sanosuke?

She leapt to her feet, and not bothering with her sandals, she raced outside
of the doctorâs hut, her eyes widening as she saw the tall fighter, his usual
white clothing striped in reds. There was another, in his arms, a young man,
perhaps eighteen or nineteen, not much younger than Sanosuke himself. He met
Megumiâs eyes wordlessly as he stepped forward, towards the hut. He was
weakened, hurt badly, bruises and cuts alike covering whatever flesh was
showing beneath torn clothing, his open coat, and his swollen knuckles. She
moved forward and allowed him to at least lean on her a little, helping him
back into the hut. "We have to hurry, else youâll bleed to death," she
warned him, almost wishing for the Doctorâs help at this time.

"Iâm fine," he growled, his eyes almost furious at her for so much as
implying that he should be helped before his friend, but even then, Megumi
knew it was too late to save the man in Sanoâs arms. And his words were
shortly after belied when, right after he laid Tsunan down on one of the
several doctorâs mats, he himself collapsed on the floor, weakened by pain
and blood loss. For all of his attitude, the fighter-for-hire had shown none
of his pain, save a strange ... sadness. Perhaps heâd brought Tsunan here so
he wouldnât have the guilt of his friendâs death burdening his soul.
Perhaps he simply wanted to blame Megumi for something, so heâd have a
reason to hate her. Another friendâs death on her, and Kenshin would surely
understand Sano unleashing his fury on the doctor.

Megumi laid a hand on his shoulder, before trying to lay him down in a more
comfortable position. Sanosukeâs wounds were not fatal, but they would have
to be patched by more than the common linen that he used for additional armor
in his fights. Tsunan was not so lucky - the explosives master had been
caught off guard, from what Megumi could guess.

Even a doctor could not cure death.

First Sayo, and now this. Megumi could only look at the unconscious fighter,
and shake her head. When one lived a life of violence, one expected this.
But Sano had just been having a stroke of bad luck.

The very least Megumi could do would be to keep him alive, and make sure he
didnât try what she had so long ago. She quickly, skillfully bandaged his
wounds, and sat by his side through the night. She never could bring herself
to sleep until she was absolutely sure her patient was fully well again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The lovely young woman whipped her jet black braid around one shoulder,
fingerless-gloved fists clenching at her side. She was annoyed, obviously
so. She had been hurt before, but sheâd never had a target escape her.

Never.

The fighterâs escape infuriated her, to the point of squeezing her fist so
tightly it nearly bled. But she couldnât be weakened by petty thoughts of
vengeance. No, most certainly not. It would only cause problems in the long
run. Yasha never allowed that to happen.

The one whoâd taken her fatherâs name would die, and soon. Else her shame
would never be avenged.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sanosukeâs eyes flickered open, and he gasped suddenly, sitting upright - and
then winced, laying back down again.

"I tried to tell you not to sit up, but you never listen to me," said a
slightly haughty voice, and he scowled slightly. Of all the places he had to
end up at, heâd gone to Megumi for help.

"So, fox-lady," he growled, surprised at the difficulty of speaking, "I guess
I owe yah one, huh."

"You owe me several," she countered, and her voice seemed... choked with
emotion. He nocked an eyebrow, slightly confused for the moment. But he
guessed it really didnât matter. "You had a couple of broken ribs; your
lungs could have collapsed."

"But they didnât did they?" he said with a sigh, leaning back. "Looks like
Lady Luck wants me ta live a bit more, eh?" He winked idly, a small smile
forming on his lips. And then it vanished. "Hey, is Tsunan awake yet? I
wanna thank âim for pushing me outta the way of that gunshot. As usual, the
baka saved my ass again." He shook his head idly, getting used to the
feeling of being awake and conscious once more.

Megumi made a sound, rather like a choked sob, covering her mouth with her
hand. "Sano..."

He paused, and then sat up very quickly, ignoring the pain, dashing forward
to place his face very close to hers. "You called me by name," he growled.
"What happened fox-lady, tell me!" He grabbed her shoulder, shook it
lightly, but not enough to cause her pain.

"The bullet was lodged in one of his lungs. When you brought him to me, he
wasnât breathing. I attempted to resuscitate him, but... Sanosuke, Iâm
sorry."

"Sorry?" His eyes narrowed, and he paused, as her words clicked into place.
"No, it canât be..." His face remained so close to hers, and Megumi didnât
bother to move away. "It just canât be!" His head swiveled, if only to hide
the rare emotion. "Tell me youâre lying, Megumi!" His fists clenched by his
side, so tightly.

"Iâm ... so very sorry, Sanosuke," she whispered, her emotion seeming almost
to match his fury.

"Baka," he whispered, his eyes closed so tightly she couldnât see the tears
welling up. "Baka," he growled again, as if it was a chant to regain hold of
his emotions. He could go to Kenshin for help, but ... no, no this was his
fight. His fight, always. His friend was dead. The only other survivor of
the Sekihoutai. The guy heâd always called "baka," idiot, the constant
banter part of their everyday conversation.

Megumi didnât help at all, simply sitting there numbly. She didnât know
what to say to comfort him, to make him feel better about all of this. But
there was nothing. Nothing sheâd been able to say when Yoita had died from
opium poisoning, the opium sheâd made ... nothing sheâd been able to say
when Sayo had died.

And yet, he simply stood there, fighting back the tears as he fought
everything else. She wanted to ... to what? To hold him? No, that was
ridiculous, she didnât feel anything for him. She loved Ken-san, above all
things. But still... she stood up, and placed her hands on his shoulders,
lowering her head. "I am sorry I couldnât save him, Sanosuke," she said
softly. He didnât even flinch at her touch, didnât even seem to notice.
"There was nothing either one of us could do."

"I should have been stronger." His voice sounded ... hollow, perhaps.
Distant, faded. "I could have done something..."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "There is nothing you could have
done. You got there too late, and it is not your fault. Blame the person
that did this to your friend, not yourself."

"Megumi..." he whispered, and her eyes widened as he fell to the floor, in a
kneeling position. "Iâm so ... damn ... helpless..." She felt her fingers
part from his shoulders, and watched as his shoulders shook ever so slightly,
fighting back tears, fighting back the emotion. Always seeking to hide that
from the world, make them think he was stronger than he actually was.

As grown up as he wanted everyone to think he was, he was still a child.
Megumi lowered herself to kneel next to him, her eyes closed. She didnât
dare touch him, allowed him his grief in whatever form he took it.

And then, he spoke. "Sake," he whispered. "Lots of it. Keep it coming."
She didnât delay, simply fetched it dutifully.

"Shall I pour it for you?" she whispered, her eyes meeting his as she kneeled
down once more in front of him this time.

And he closed his eyes, paused, and nodded once. She poured it for him, his
linen-bound fingers taking it from her with surprising grace, not saying a
single word, until he sipped at it, his voice almost numb. "I donât taste
it," he whispered.

And all of a sudden, he collapsed into Megumiâs waiting arms, and sobbed.