The weather was brightly sunny and pleasant.  Spring was in the air, and throughout Tokyo there was the feeling of newness that always came with the season.  A young man, long dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail, walked through the streets oblivious to the joyous atmosphere.  He was rushed, but it seemed his shoulders bent under a heavy burden as he approached the cemetery.  It had been a long journey from Germany, where he had spent most of the past month with Yutaro.  There had not been enough warning for the young doctor to come to the funeral, though he had promised to visit as soon as he could.
     "Yahiko."  Kaoru smiled sadly at the young man as he approached.
     "Kaoru."  He hugged her briefly, shaking hands with her husband.  "Sanosuke."  He shared a sad glance with the taller man as they turned to look at the lone figure, standing a little way apart from them.  "How's Kenshin?"
     Kaoru shook her head.  "He's hardly said a word since she died.  He was silent throughout the whole funeral."  She cast him a worried glance.
     Yahiko nodded.  "It's hit him harder for a lot of reasons.  Where's the baby?"
     "She's with Suzume.  They went home with Genzaisensei and Ayame immediately after the funeral.  I wanted to make sure Kenshin is all right."
     "I don't think waiting here is going to help him right now.  He'll want to be alone."  He shared a glance with Kaoru as Sanosuke took his wife by the arm.
     "Come on.  Let's go take Megumiko home from the clinic.  I think you could both use each other's company right now."  He looked down at the woman he had married, his own pain evident.
     Kaoru nodded.  Yahiko met her eyes.  "I know Megumi would be glad to know you named your daughter after her."
    Megumi's decline had been rapid even from the time she came to them.  For the last few weeks of her life, Megumi had been unaware of her surroundings, barely able to even eat when she was fed.  She had spent most of a month before that in making arrangements for her own small funeral and her few belongings.  At the last, she'd been locked in a coma by pain for several days before giving in.  Her death had not been easy.  They all knew, however, that she had not died unhappy at the end; in one of her last coherent moments, she had thanked them. The words still echoed in their ears.
     Thank you.  Thank you for being my friends, for making me happy again.  And Kensan, thank you for letting me love you.  Tell the baby I love her too.
     Kaoru had given birth later that week to a daughter.  There was no question as to what they would name the baby.  She was now almost two months old.  She would never know the woman whose name she bore, but she would never be allowed to forget.
     None of them would.
     Sanosuke led his wife away as Yahiko approached Kenshin.
     "Kenshin.  Why don't you come home for now."  He laid a hand on the older man's shoulder.  He was taller than Kenshin, now, though not as tall as Sanosuke.  Kenshin turned red rimmed eyes to his former student.
     "I'll be there."  He nodded to the younger man and turned back to the grave.
     "We'll wait dinner for you.  Tsubame's bringing in from the Akabeko.  Taesan insisted."  Yahiko turned and walked away, quietly following Sanosuke and Kaoru home.
     "Yahiko."
     The younger man stopped and turned back to look at his friend.  "Hai?"
     "Yahiko, don't wait dinner for me."
     "Kenshin...  What are you saying?"
     "Please tell Kaorudono and the others that I will come back."
     "What?  But Kenshin --"
     Kenshin cut off the words with a shake of his head.  "Tell Kaorudono I said..."
     Yahiko waited.
     "Sessha wa rurouni de gozaru yo."  Kenshin looked back at Yahiko, and saw that the younger man understood and would do as he asked.
     Time passed effortlessly, silently slipping by Kenshin as he stood over Megumi's grave.  How had it all come to pass?  How much could anyone take and still be whole inside?  Was he even sure he was still whole?
     A wry smile made its way to his face as he knelt by the grave and laid a last flower down.  "Goodbye, second woman to love me."  He turned around and started walking.