loving you." That angelic smile, her last murmured words, and she faded back into the fog.

Another figure stepped forward. A young man with light hair in a high ponytail. A sword hung at his hip and two scars crossed his cheek. His hands were stained with blood and one scar bled freely. The blood ran silver down his cheek and neck and dripped onto the ground in front of Enishi.

"Tomoe," the specter moaned softly, tears joining the blood, "Tomoe... Tomoe..."

Enishi clutched for his glasses and shoved them back on his nose, shaking like a leaf. A voice floated faintly to his ears from the spirit's world.

"Still wearing those black glasses? Bad for your eyes! Oh well, just like his father. I guess I should feel flattered..."

Enishi felt his mind, bend, crack and crumble. When the pieces all reached the floor he regarded them critically and found the pattern.

'Reincarnation! Amazing! And meeting Misao! How lucky!'

---------------

A thin trickle of cars headed towards Misao's neighborhood, and all of them were going fast. As Aoshi raced the car through the narrow streets, pushing the limits of Tokyo traffic patrols' niavette, Misao sat staring out the window. The hum of the engine filled the car. The sound weighed heavily on their ears, both of them loathe to break the silence.

"You owe me an explanation," Misao said tightly after several minutes. Aoshi continued to watch the road like he hadn't heard.

"I know," he said after a few more minutes of silence. "I'm trying to think of where to begin."

"To start with, how much more than me do you know?"

Aoshi flicked his eyes at her and Misao thought she saw a flash of humor there. "Well, I don't know. How much do you know?"

Misao sighed and tipped her head back against the headrest. "I know that we were ninjas, I know about our past up until the year 1878 and I know what happened after 1878. It's like the year was washed away from my mind." She added after a moment, "I also know that Yukishiro Enishi's sister was Yukishiro or Himura Tomoe."

Beside her Aoshi tensed. Misao looked at him a little worriedly. "What is it?"

Aoshi hesitated and licked his lips. "Did I ever tell you about my sister?"

"No. Point in fact, you haven't told me much about yourself at all," she added with a meaningful glance.

Aoshi nodded. "I'm getting there. My sister is the first step." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then began.

"My sister isn't actually my sister. She was my half-sister. My father married her mother, Tsukishiro Akemi, a year before she was born. They named her Tsukishiro Tomoe. Then, when Tomoe was two years old her mother died. Some sort of little known disease like a cancer. It had been dormant for years, but when it was activated it killed her within six months. Tomoe was always going to doctors for check ups to make sure the disease wasn't sneaking up on her.

"Then, three years later, my father married again. My mother, the woman you met, Fukuoka Yukiko. She took my father's name and Tomoe, to avoid confusion, took his name too. That made Shinomori Noriyoshi, Shinomori Yukiko and Shinomori Tomoe, and the half-forgotten wife Tsukishiro Akemi. My father still goes to her grave on the anniversary of her death.

"Then, when Tomoe was nine, I was born. My mother and father were always so busy trying to support us, run the restaurant and keep themselves sane. Tomoe ended up being more of a mother to me than my own mother. We did everything together. She taught me how to read and write, how to cook, taught me patience and meditation and made me interested in becoming more than face value. She adored me, pampered me. Honestly, I was a spoiled brat, but she was always so nice to me, I could never take advantage of it.

"Then the worst happened." Here Aoshi paused and collected himself. Misao watched him worriedly. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and shook his head. She brushed her hand lightly against his arm and he gave her a grateful glance.

"A test came back positive. The disease had emerged. They started more testing, but everythng pointed in different directions. They tried shots, acupunture, and finally chemotherapy. That had some effect. They managed to postpone her death by probably a year at least. Her hair fell out; her long beautiful hair Akira and I loved to play with. All her close friends got locks of it." He reached one hand down his jacket and pulled out a small locket no bigger than his thumbnail. It was gold with a black stone set in the center and a tiny clasp on one side. "A lock of hair, a drop of blood and a tear," he told the enraptured Misao.

"Her face got swollen and she began to forget things. Little things like where we hid the spare key, which parking place we used, how to get to work. She got so bad she had to stay home all the time. Her boyfriend was so hurt he stopped coming to visit her after she forgot who he was. He called, though. Always called.

"Finally she died. Almost two years after the disease appeared. That was five years ago. Since then I've never been happy. I lost almost all my friends. I went from being the most popular boy in school to being a reject. I was dubbed freak. I stopped talking and didn't eat. I made myself sick so I could die and be with her. Then I