The heat was suffocating. That is what he particularly remembered; the way the sun had risen and slowly heated the air until even standing in the shade had felt like a heavy burden. They had been travelling at night partly to avoid the summer heat, but Katsura had sent him ahead to the inn in Kyoto, and after waiting two days alone, Kenshin had become restless. He had never seen a city before, never seen so many people fill so little space, and curiosity drove him out into the streets shortly after dawn, following a hastily bolted breakfast. There had been much to see and entertain, but now it was past midday, and though he hated to admit it, he was lost. The day was warm and he had begun to feel thirsty. His mind was addled in the summer sun, so he sat down in the scant shade of a tall manor wall, the better to recover his wits. He would rest a moment, then retrace his steps.

"Excuse me, Osamurai-san?"

Kenshin started awake, his hand automatically moving to his sword hilt, his eyes blinking in confusion. The sun was no longer overhead, now sinking below the roofs of the nearby houses, still high enough to cast the figure before him in shadow. A shadow that was drawing back, hands raised so he could see that they were empty, that there was no threat.

"Forgive me, Osamurai-san, but you have fallen asleep against the wall of my family home." The voice was high and soft, and now that his eyes were adjusting he saw the figure was a young woman, close to his own age. She was frowning slightly, her head tilted to one side as though he were a very troublesome puzzle she was trying to solve. Kenshin let go of his sword and tried his best to smile reassuringly, but his lips felt dry and cracked and all he could manage was a small shift at the corners of his mouth.

"I was walking and lost my way," he rasped through chapped lips, "I fell asleep here in the sun, it seems." His voice sounded drier than his lips felt, and the girl's eyes widened with concern. Her outstretched hand drew closer to his elbow. "Please, Osamurai-san, will you come inside and take some water? Your skin is quite red."

"I…" He shouldn't. Katsura could very well be in Kyoto by now, waiting at the inn, or worse, looking for him. He should ask her for directions and go. She didn't wait for him to finish, grasping his arm and tugging him gently to his feet. The world swirled around him for a moment, and he leaned back against the manor wall, trying to master waves of nausea. The girl moved briskly then, stepping to his side as she pulled his arm around her shoulders. "Lean on me please," she encouraged him gently, and began to propel him forward with slow, small steps. It was the most agonizing walk he'd ever taken; the ground threatened to overtake him with each step, his heart pounding in his ears until it seemed the dull roar would surely split his head open. When Kenshin finally found his bearings again, he was sitting on the floor of a darkened bathhouse. The girl was kneeling in front of him, clutching his shoulders. "I am going to go for water now," she told him. "Please lie down if you feel dizzy."

He managed a feeble nod of agreement, and then she was gone. Kenshin was vaguely aware of her quick steps on the gravel outside, fading and then returning, and then she was once again before him, the long sleeves of her furisode tied back, setting down a bucket of water on either side of her lap.

"I will give you some water now," she told him gently. "Drink it slowly, and if you feel you must be sick then do so." She waited, looking straight into his eyes to make sure he understood, and only when he nodded did she pull a ladle from a bucket and lift it towards him. He drank deeply and slowly, though it was hard to check his thirst. The water was clear and cool and tasted better than anything he had ever put to his lips, better even than Shishou's sake. She gave him a second ladle, and then a third, and he began to feel the fog surrounding him lift, and his senses return to him. He was aware then, of the cool air in the bathhouse, of the smell of the teak floor and the soap and the bright floral scent of the girl in front of him. It was quiet, the only sound the faint whine of cicadas and an occasional soft gust of wind.

"Ah," he sighed. "Thank you." He moved to bow but her hands gripped his arms tightly once more, keeping him upright.

"There is no need for that, Osamurai-san! You must be careful in your movements, I believe you have sun-fever. We must cool off your skin and then you must rest."

"Ah, yes." He nodded in agreement. That was the treatment for sun-fever, water and coolness and rest. And then reason reasserted itself. He needed to return to the inn."No wait, I-"

"I am going to pour water over your head now, do you wish to remove your kimono? There are yukatas you can change into afterwards if you want to remain clothed." He gaped at her then, and while she had the decency to blush faintly, she gave him and authoritative glare. "We must cool you off, Osamurai-san, or you will truly become feverish!" she snapped, all traces of gentle care gone from her voice.

"Right!" he agreed, his overheated senses succumbing to her authority, as though letting this strange, brazen girl pour water on him was the most natural thing in the world. He shrugged out of his sleeves, pulling his kimono off his shoulders and pushing it down to the ties of his hakama. "Ready!" he yelped, leaning back and squeezing his eyes shut.

He thought she would throw it at him, the way Shishou had that first night on the mountain, trying to clean off the dirt that had coated his skin. But after a moment's hesitation, she poured it slowly over his head, making sure the water flowed gently over his sunburnt face, down his neck and chest, cooling the heated skin. She emptied the entire bucket over him and onto the slats of the floor, and then carefully wrapped a large damp cloth around his head and shoulders, sitting him up in the process. She placed his hands in the remaining water of the second bucket, and he noticed for the first time how red they were compared to the skin of his arms. She pushed his dripping hair out of his eyes and gave him a reassuring smile. "I am going for more water now, please stay as you are." He didn't respond, staring at his red hands in the clear water as she took up the empty bucket and quietly left the bathhouse. By the time she returned from the well, the coolness of the water and the soft darkness of the bathhouse had lulled him into a deep, relaxed slumber.

That is how he remembers their first meeting.