Kenshin could only watch as Megumi thrashed and convulsed, her scream echoing off the buildings and filling the alley. He watched and winced as she snapped back to life, piece by piece. He heard the crack of the bone, saw the reshaping of her chest, her body withering like she was going to crack to dust and be swept away. She looked like an old woman. He wanted to reach out to her. To cut the pain away. To do something other than sitting here and watching her, feeling sick to his stomach as--whatever was inside her ravaged and repaired her. But he could do nothing. Not a damn thing. Except for trying to keep her from hurting yourself.

(It's not something you can kill, is it?)

He swallowed, and swallowed again as the bile rose in his throat but kept himself a solid presence, looking away just enough so he wasn't gawking at her but there in case...in case she needed something. Windows were opening down the street. People were watching. The police would be called.

A thin cold edge of fear rose up in his chest and he brushed it away. Whatever happened, he would take care of it. Fear would only eat at him and right now, Megumi needed all the help he could give. Which was pathetically little.

Finally, she shuddered and he thought for a moment she was dead but those thin hands covered her face and she was crying. Crying for the pain of it.

(This is torture caused by your carelessness.) He should be there, not her.

Kenshin took a deep breath and, seeing that she had settled for the moment, opened his messenger bag and pulled out a small box of protein bars and a bottle of luke warm water. There wasn't much but she needed something.

"You need to try to eat if you can," he said, opening one of the packages for her. "And drink, too. There is more food where we're going but for right now you should keep your strength up, that you should."