Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or the characters found therein. I write for pleasure, not profit—but I am partial to reviews, so feel free to leave on. ^_^

Author Note: Well, I wrote one-shots for Kenshin x Kaoru, Aoshi x Misao...so I thought I would write one for my favorite couple—Sanosuke x Megumi.

~ 1 ~

Blood, Sweat & Tears

Sweat rolled down Megumi Takani’s face as she struggled to save the man on the futon in front of her. Blood stained her hands, her navy kimono, and the futon beneath him. She had given the man a potent sleeping powder when he’d first arrived, knocking him unconscious so that she could more easily dig the bullet from his side and clean the wound. She had already removed the other bullet that had lodged itself in his thigh, barely missing the major femoral artery that lay there.

Still, despite her efforts, the man was in bad shape.

He was also very foolish. Megumi thought as she frowned down at him.

Lately, there had been an increase in bandits and yakuza gangs using the new guns shipped from the West. These gangs had been wrecking havoc on small villages around Japan and had recently begun to do the same on the outskirts of Tokyo. Although the man before her was a very skilled warrior and privy to many hard-won martial techniques, he’d been careless and gotten shot for his trouble.

Martial arts were no match for firearms, though often times her dear friend Kenshin often seemed to prove otherwise. Still, even the red-haired wanderer knew when to fight with fists and when to rely on other means.

Megumi knew that fact better than anyone did. Her profession proved to her every day the frailty of the human body, the many ways it could be injured and destroyed. She was constantly a witness to just how often the strength of the mind and spirit exceeded the strength of the body. Sanosuke was no exception.

Sanosuke should have known better, but damn that pride of his. Megumi thought, her frown growing more angry. He’s an amazing warrior and his spirit is very strong, but he has limits...just like everyone else. He needs to be more careful with his body—

—and his life... Her heart added, causing her anger to fade a bit in favor of sadness and worry. Taking a deep breath to brace herself, Megumi blinked as tears stung her eyes. He takes far too many chances. One day, I’m afraid he’ll take one chance too many.

Using two fingers of one hand, Megumi carefully opened the bullet wound, grimacing as more blood oozed from its interior, leaving a crimson trail down the man’s bare flesh. In her other hand, she wielded a pair of porcelain chopsticks, flatter and more delicate than the ones she normally used to eat with. She’d found in her years of practicing medicine that they were perfect for reaching into wounds and pulling out things that often got lodged inside of the body.

She moved the thin pieces of porcelain around until they found a hard place within. Using the tips of the makeshift forceps, she felt of the object and determined that it was the bullet she searched for and not a blood clot or something similar. With small, precise movements, she started to pull it out. Slowly, a small ball emerged, roughly the size of Sanosuke’s thumbnail. Even covered in blood as it was, it shone in the light of the room.

Megumi grimaced as a steady, but sluggish stream of red fluid started flowing from the wound. Immediately, Megumi dropped the offending little ball in a nearby wooden tray and picked up several cotton staunch pads. She applied them to the wound and watched them soak through.

Looks like I’m going to have to sew it up. Megumi thought, her brow furrowing. Just as I did his thigh...he’s lucky the shooters had bad aim, otherwise they might have hit something vital.

Standing up, she went over to a nearby cabinet and removed a small box. She returned to her place at Sanosuke’s side and opened it, pulling out a long, slightly curved needle and some thread. After taking precious time replacing the blood-soaked cotton for fresh pads, Megumi threaded a length of silk thread through the eye of her needle.

Within minutes, she was ready to begin the task of sewing up the bullet wound.

The moments passed in tense silence as Megumi concentrated on her task. A nearby, Swiss-made clock ticked off time. The tick tock of the timepiece seemed to coincide with each movement of the needle, the thin metal flashing as she worked. Sweat continued to slide down the side of her face and once or twice, Megumi had to wipe her forehead with her kimono sleeve to keep it from dripping onto the man beneath her hands.

Soon though, she was finished. Quietly, with a critical eye, she surveyed her work and found it satisfactory.

Using a basin of clean water that rested nearby, Megumi rinsed her hands and cleansed the man’s torso of blood. She sighed and took a minute to close her eyes and thank the deities. Not an overly religious woman, Megumi still felt it necessary to thank the Divine for her ability to help others.

When she opened her eyes, Sanosuke lay before her. He was unconscious and would be for a long time yet, but he was still alive. He would heal, but it would take time. Megumi’s heart pained her and for a brief moment, she dropped her professional demeanor long enough to stroke Sanosuke’s pallid cheek. It was unbelievable, but over the course of their acquaintance, Megumi had come to care for him very deeply.

“These foolish games of yours are going to get you killed one day, rooster head.” Megumi whispered. “I’m getting tired of stitching you back up again. It’s beginning to hurt me too much...”

A knock on the doorframe caused Megumi to drop her hand from Sanosuke’s face. Just as quickly as it had dropped, her profession demeanor was back up. She was the famous Lady Doctor of Japan once more, the man before her just another patient.

“Yes, who is it?” she called, her voice strong and polite. “I’m afraid I’m still with a patient right now. Unless it is important, I must ask you to come back at another time.

A familiar, but very tired voice spoke from behind the shoji screen of the door.

“It is me, Miss Megumi...that it is.” Kenshin answered. “I heard what happened and hurried over to see if there was anything I could help you with.”

Megumi relaxed a little, her voice warmer when she replied. “Oh, it’s you, Sir Ken. Yes, please come in. I believe I could use your assistance.”

The door slide open and the kind-eyed swordsman entered. Kenshin’s kimono was dirty perhaps, but his smile was pure and his help was welcome. Megumi felt her tension melt away a little at the sight of him. Kenshin walked over towards a table nearby and respectfully washed his hands without Megumi’s telling him to.

When he had cleaned and dried his hands, he approached. Kneeling down nearby, concern marking his handsome features, he looked at Sanosuke and then, after a moment, at her.

“Is Sanosuke going to be alright, Miss Megumi?”

Megumi looked away from Kenshin and wanted to sigh, but when she replied, she controlled her tone so as not to reveal her feelings.

She nodded.

“Yes. He’ll be all right, Sir Ken, but he’ll experience a good deal of pain for the first couple of weeks or so. Those bullets went deep and because of that, recovery will be slow. Sanosuke will have to be very careful and make sure his wounds don’t get infected, but he’ll live to fight another day.”

This time, Megumi could not stop the sigh that escaped her lips. The next second she felt Kenshin’s hand come to rest gently on her shoulder. Startled, she looked up and met his gaze.

He spoke to her then, his tone quiet. There was a knowing smile on his face.

“Don’t worry, Miss Megumi,” Kenshin said, withdrawing his hand once he’d gotten her attention, but holding her gaze all the same. “Sanosuke will be hearing the concerns of all of us before he’s fully recovered...that he will. And, if you’ll excuse my boldness, I could impress upon him your...special interest...in his health.”

Megumi felt her heart lighten just a little and the corner of her mouth turned up in a tiny smile. She realized what Kenshin was getting at and, though she appreciated it, she knew she could not accept.

“Thank you, Sir Ken, but no,” she said, bowing her head in apology. “I appreciate your concern, I really do—but that won't be necessary. This is something that I believe I should tell him myself.”

Kenshin’s smile did not waver as if he knew her answer before she spoke. Instead, he merely inclined his head as well. “Very well then, Miss Megumi...I understand.”

The man sitting on the dais in front of him was not pleased...that much was clear. Boss Takeda was hardly someone to trifle with and Akahiro had tried for years to gain his approval. Now, with his gang's latest failure, Boss Takeda ws staring down at Akahiro as though he were the scum of the earth. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He swallowed, placing his hands on the tatami mats beneath him, and bowed low.

"Forgive me, sir." Akahiro said, "I did not realize that those men would be there and try to stop us. I apologize for any incompetence."

In his heart, Akahiro hated sounded so weak. He was the son of a samurai, born a ronin in this time of peace. Unfortunately, subservience was expected of him. His men, he knew, were behind him doing the exact same thing he was. They hated it as well, but like him, they know how much the support of the local Yakuza boss meant. It meant near invincibility in this part of Tokyo.

"You disappoint me greatly." Boss Takeda rasped. "Failure should have been impossible with the Western guns I provided you and your men with. Perhaps you and your pititful men are more useless than I thought."

"With all due respect, sir," Akahiro interrupted boldly, "I'm sure we were faced with no ordinary men. One of them carried a reverse-blade sword and had a cross-shaped scar on his lef cheek--much like the legendary Battousai is said to have had, and although I didn't recognize the other man, he was a very skilled fighter. His techniques were unlike any I have seen."

"Silence! I don't want to hear excuses!" Takeda snapped, "How dare you interrupt me, boy! I am your superior, do you hear?"

"But sir," Akahiro protested, "I'm not making excuses..."

He didn't get to finish. From behind him, he heard quick, nearly silent, footsteps, and then rough hands grabbed Akahiro by his shoulders, jerking him to his feet. He heard his men being handled similarly, their surprised protests quickly stifled by what sounded like blows. The man holding him by the arms pushed him forward easily, before tossing him to the floor at Takeda's feet. He hit the floor of the wooden dais hard, striking his chin painfully. He tasted blood as he bit his tongue.

Then, adding insult to injury, someone grabbed his hair, forcing him to look upwards from his place on the ground. Akahiro would have struggled to free himself if he hadn't found come face to face with a kneeling Takeda. The man's bloodshot eyes stared down at him, wolf-like and predatory. Takeda pulled a handkerchief from one of his kimono sleeves and wiped his brow. His tone allowed no argument.

"You hope to add insubordination to your growing list of faults, Akahiro?" the older man said. "Answer carefully now, becuase if you say something else I don't like...well, suffice it to say, Jigo will be happy to slit your throat. Understand?"

The threat was no bluff. At that moment, Akahiro felt the cold touch of steel at his throat, the edge of the dagger cutting into his flesh.

He flinched. Boss Takeda smiled.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Akahiro shoook his head as best he could without slitting his own throat and saving Jigo the trouble. He answered through clenched teeth.

"Yes sir, I understand." he said roughly, flinching again as the dagger pressed closer against his neck. "Please forgive me, I meant no disrespect."

"That's better." Takeda said, a smile of satisfaction sliding across his face. He rose from his position on the floor and settled back near the center of the dais. "Now get off my floor."

Akahiro relaxed a bit as the knife on his throat disappeared. The hands--Jigo's hands--let go of his hair and his head dropped forward. He barely had enough time to catch it before his chin struck the wood again. Sliding backwards, he removed himself to the tatami mats once more, returning to his subservient position as asked.

"Find those men, Akahiro," Takeda was saying now, authority and warning making his words sharper than any knife. "Kill them both. Consider this assignment a chance to redeem yourself. If you fail, you die in their place. If you refuse, the you can die now."

Bowing, Akahiro accepted the demand. He had little choice. "Yes sir. Right away."

.

Author Note: Okay, I realize that some of my medical terms or procedures are quite regulation...but then, I’m not claiming to be a doctor by any means. Still, I enjoyed writing this one-shot and I hope you enjoyed it too.

Oh, also, if there is enough interest, I would be willing to continue this story...but you guys have to let me know! ^_^