Chursh.  Chursh.  Chursh.  The woman looked down at the powder in the bowl before her.  She appeared far older than her thirty years, worn down by ill health and worse treatment.  For years, she had wondered what would have happened had she stayed away from this dealer of death and gone instead to the man who had been the Hitokiri Battousai.
     It had been eight years since she had thrown herself in impetuous desperation at the beautiful redheaded man with a cross shaped scar on his cheek.  Eight arduous years of making the opium that often proved fatal to the unwary user by day and submitting to the sadistic lusts of Takeda Kanryu in the dark.  She no longer cared about anything, only wait for death to claim her, for she had long since despaired of going to meet it.
     The woman who had once been Takani Megumi sighed and pushed back her brittle grey hair.  Eight years of wondering what might have happened if she'd returned to the Kamiya dojo with that close knit group instead of giving in to the pressure Kanryu had put on her.
     She little doubted that Himurasan had married that young one, Kamiya Keiko was it?  No.  Kaoru.  And the tall one, with that attitude, was probably either dead or married as well.  Even the youngest one, so full of spirit, was probably calmer and maybe even married, too.
     She wondered what would have happened if she'd left a note when she'd run away, thinking to protect those she feared she might learn to care for.  It seemed everyone she loved suffered and died.  Maybe she herself might have married the Battousai, or even the tall one whose friend had died because of her.  What had his name been?  Sanosuke, that was it.  Or she might have met someone else entirely.
     But she had run away, and she hadn't left a note, and long since stopped pretending that she could try again.  Kanryu kept the reins very tight indeed.  There would be no more escape attempts.  He'd guaranteed it by breaking her legs over and over again until, mending improperly, they would no longer bear even her slight weight very well or for very long.   It had given him great pleasure to do, and often he had forced himself on her in the midst of it.  She had long since stopped feeling both the rapes and the constant ache in her legs.
     She took a breath and went back to mixing the opium that had been the reason for Kanryu's keeping her alive and service.  Chursh.  Chursh.  Chursh.  Once, she'd had spirit, intelligence, humor.  Once, she'd been a beautiful woman with a future.  Now she was no more than a broken husk with a few shabby dreams.  Everything had its price.
     Chursh.  Chursh.  Chursh.  Mixing the drug had taken on a mechanical quality, allowing the woman's mind to drift.  Early on, that had been her only salvation and the only link to sanity.  In her mind, she had created a wonderful story about the Battousai and his friends, running around together, helping people, and spending time rather like a family.  In her mind, she was one of them.  Not a central figure, of course, but definitely there in that world where fights could be won by the "good guys" and she could walk like any other woman.
     She shifted her seat, wincing as the tired muscles in her legs cried out.  She'd been hurting more lately, it seemed with less reason.  Even Takeda Kanryu at last seemed to be tiring of her and would probably soon find a new girl.  Perhaps he had already started looking.  Perhaps he would even kill her once she'd taught the new girl to make his opium.
     It didn't matter to him that he was smuggling weapons in and selling them on the black market, raking in enough money to take the edge even off his vast greed.  He would still have the opium made, still sell it to anyone who would buy.  She was sure he partook of it himself.  She used to think that she might one day make a "bad" batch deliberately, but there was no way to guarantee that he would take it, and then others would certainly die, perhaps even innocent people.  Then, somehow, somewhen, she'd stopped caring about killing him.  She'd stopped caring about surviving, but had given up on having any other choice.
     Suddenly she heard the screams of a young woman, and then Kanryu's sneering voice  telling her it would be all right, as he had done to the older woman so many years ago.  She thought she heard him saying the name, "Tsubamechan."  It sounded vaguely familiar, but that meant little to her.
     It seemed Takeda Kanryu had found a replacement.
     She tuned out the sounds of sobs and the man's whiny, nasal voice, mockingly reassuring.
    Perhaps the end had finally come.  Old wounds that had never healed flashed awake with pain as she moved again.  Pushing a grey lock back, she almost smiled to herself.
     Chursh.  Chursh.  Chursh.  It was almost time to press and pack this last load of the drug.  She sighed again, wondering how much longer she had to wait.  She would tell this new girl, Tsubamechan, to run as soon, as fast, and as far as she could, and not to run away from those who would protect her.  Then maybe she would be granted the blessing of death.
     Silence had fallen save for the slight rustling of her movements.
     As she finished binding the last bit of powder into its tiny packet, she realized she'd been hearing the sounds of battle for several moments.  For the first time in many years, the woman felt curiosity.  It seemed almost too soon for someone to have come for Tsubamechan.
     Slowly she dragged herself to the door of the third floor tower room, pulling herself up slowly along the wall, gasping for breath and waiting until the pain eased.  She listened to the seeming silence that had fallen once gain, forever perhaps?  She had to know.
     The door creaked open slowly, and she tottered painfully to the head of the stairs.  There it was again, the sound of fighting.
     Takeda's lack of honor had long since cost him the service of Shinomori Aoshi and the Oniwa Banshu, and he had never found guards that had quite filled the shoes of those who had become heroes in their own right.  They had fought those who, like Kanryu, had no values but greed.  They were gunned down, all of them, with weapons Takeda Kanryu himself had provided.
     She had almost cried when she'd heard.
     She almost did again as she fell, calling out involuntarily, as her maltreated legs gave out on the stairs.  She crumpled down painfully to the next landing.
     She could almost see the main room now, heard the shots of a gun, Kanryu's psychotic laughter.
     She dragged herself along the floor to the stairs when she heard a phrase shouted, a battle cry that struck a faint chord of memory, though it was not the voice that she had remembered.
     "Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, Do Ryu Sen!"
     She heard the thud of an unconscious body hitting the floor just as she pulled herself into sight.
     Standing over the smuggler's unmoving form was a slim young man, glaring down as he caught his breath.  In his hand was a sword, glinting in the faint light from the doorway.  His thick hair, bound back in a ponytail, cascaded down his back to his waist.  She caught a glint of light off it as he slid the Sakabattou into its sheath at his hip as he looked up and saw her.
     She couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him.  He was so like the Hitokiri Battousai of legend had been, though he was younger, and that luxurious long hair was black.
     "You've been hurt," said that familiar figure.  He started towards her slowly as she shook her head.
     "Old wounds."  Was that her voice?  So many years of near total silence had reduced it to scarcely more than a whisper.  "You look familiar, almost, but..." She coughed and lay still, unable to continue.
     A young girl had come to the door with an older man behind her, and the woman looked up.  The girl had soft brown hair, cut short, and wide eyes that made her look even younger. The man she could not see, silhouetted in the door.
     The young man reached a hand out to her as the older one stepped into the room.  She saw now he had red hair.  Was that, there on his face...?
     The young man knelt to her.  "My name is Myoujin Yahiko."