Chapter 11 – Conspiracies

The air was chilly this early in the morning. The sky in the east was lightening into the color of deep sapphire, but the sun was still an hour or so from rising. From his position here on top of the hill tower, he could see nothing stirring in the sleeping town beneath. Silence blanketed Kyoto as completely as the film of mist that lent a ghostly, surreal look to the landscape.

Hawthorne shrugged his overcoat into a more snug position on his shoulders and turned towards his host. A fine, half-transparent curtain of cloth partitioned the middle of the room. Behind it, a faint outline of a seated man can be seen.

“They were starting to ask questions,” Hawthorne said suddenly. “Rutherford wanted to know who raided the arms shipment. He sent my men sniffing after the local informants, pressuring the police. Bloody annoying.”

The voice that floated from behind the curtain was mellow and cultured, the words softly spoken yet clear and distinct. “Is he getting any closer to the truth?”

Hawthorne snorted. “Unless he can revive the dead… unlikely. The hired men are all dead, aren’t they?” He demanded, sending a sharp look at the screen.

“Of course.” Serene voice, unruffled. “We do not leave loose ends, Mister Hawthorne.”

“Good.” Hawthorne took another sip of the fiery brandy, grimacing. “Still, Rutherford is backing Major Jamieson to do whatever is necessary to solve this. That man was like a bulldog – tenacious. He’ll keep on digging for scraps and won’t let it go. I don’t need this. Doesn’t matter how fool-proof our setup is – something may still come up.”

“Very well. I understand your concern.” A soft sound of water and the mild fragrance of tea wafted out from behind the screen. “I shall see to it that there will be no information, however small, to escape to the authorities, or to your embassy men. The city shall be quiet as a tomb… this, I give you my word.”

Hawthorne nodded, knowing that the man behind the screen was more than capable of backing his word. The informants would still their tongue – or they would be stilled for them.

“However,” the voice continued, “this is merely a temporary measure. The true step will have to be taken from your side, Mister Hawthorne.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. Lack of information is well and good – but the only way for the questions to stop, would be for the questioner to stop asking them.”

Hawthorne stood up straighter, staring at the screen. The voice turned soft, compelling.

“If he continued, where would he stop? Would he be satisfied, or would he continue digging?”

Hawthorne stared down at the half-glass of brandy. His fingers were white against the crystal.

“Careful what you are saying.”

“Yes. But I am worried, for your sake.”

“For my sake?”

“In one month time, you shall retire to your home country, in full honors of your long service. You will finally be given recognition for all your works. And yet… a lot of things could happen in one month’s time. A lot of things could be uncovered, if someone was persistent enough.”

Hawthorne stared outside with hooded eyes.

“This relationship we have, have been most beneficial. We do not wish for it to end.”

“Are you speaking for yourself, or for your government?” Hawthorne asked flatly.

“You know the value of my words, Mister Hawthorne.”

Another long moment of silence, then Hawthorne downed the rest of his drink. “Tell me more.”

Behind the curtain, pale lips curved up in a smile.

***

The outside room was empty, quiet once again. Faint sound of activities drifted from the courtyard below as a horse-drawn carriage was prepared to leave for the British Embassy.

“Interesting conversation you had.“

“Ah, welcome back… Hyou. How was your journey?”

Hyou strolled over to the terrace, leaning his hips casually against the railing. “Quite interesting. Things pretty much happened as you predicted they would.”

“So… Katsura’s Shishi did make their move?”

“Yes.”

“And the prisoners?”

“Half of them are saved, including Sakamoto Ryoma. Although if we had pitched in, the result may have turned out different.”

“Be patient. It is not yet time for us to show our forces in the open. I do not wish for any questions directed this way. It is enough to give these little pushes, to set up the important pieces in the board.”

A snort. “You planned too much.”

Smile. “We need this alliance in motion between Choshu and Satsuma. This is essential, for our plan to work.” A soft sigh. “Having Sakamoto Ryoma, friend of Saigo Takamori, saved by Katsura Kogoro’s men… it should help convince Satsuma for the alliance. If nothing else, Sakamoto has always been an honorable man. Owing a debt of life to the Choshu Shishi should give him double the reason to work harder for the alliance.”

“Why are we helping them?”

“Helping them? Only in so far as I want them to be together… when the blow is struck.” The voice softened, in counterpoint to the spoken words. “When the two birds that are Satsuma and Choshu are struck out of the sky by the stone that was the western allied forces.”

Silence, then – “So that was why you’re setting that gaijin up.”

A nod, barely seen from behind the curtain. “The ambassador Hawthorne mentioned a few interesting things just now. Apparently, the gaijin government of England has finally decided to change sides. The new ambassador, Lawrence Rutherford, is going to start the negotiation with the Choshu Shishi very soon.“

“You do realize that this Sakamoto person is up to his neck in this as well.”

A hand lifted in languid dismissal. “Yes, but there is no need to worry. If Hawthorne came through for us, any advances he can make will be made null – or worse, backfire on him.”

“Well then…,”Hyou rubbed his chin, “it seems the question now will be – will he do as you wish?”

A soft smile, hidden behind the curtain. “I have given him… suggestions. Not a difficult thing to do. Ambassador Hawthorne is currently very upset with his own government. He has always been a proponent of our esteemed Shogun. He further believed that Rutherford is here to replace him – and the prestige and honor due him is about to fly out of his grasp and into another man’s hands.”

“He has everything to lose. And Alistair Hawthorne is a man of many fears.”

Hyou gave an amused bark of a laugh. “And you played each of those fears like a lute.”

“Yes, I did.” The voice turned contemplative. “Such a strange thing, human nature. Given a choice, most people will choose to believe what they liked, over the truth. But some people, those with more things to lose… they tend to believe things they most feared of happening, to the exclusion of everything else. As if they feared hope itself.” Amusement once again seeped into the gently ironic tone. “Why is that, do you think, Hyou?”

The man half-smiled. “Saa-na… I leave all the philosophical questionings to you, Matsudaira-san… Sakon. I’m just here to kill.”

“So direct you are,” the voice murmured. “It may be liberating, to see things in such clean simplicities. But you are no simpleton, Hyou. Of all people, I should know.”

Matsudaira Sakon turned his gaze towards the open verandah. The fog viewed from the open terrace had acquired a pearly luminescence. The milky whiteness was reflected on the eyes that would never see the light of day.

“What are you thinking?”

Matsudaira smiled into a vision that only his blinded eyes could see. “The future. Our time has finally come.”

“Good. I have had enough of this waiting.”

Matsudaira nodded, then continued briskly. “When you leave, please inform Takeda I wish to see him. The family of those men must be properly compensated.”

“Those men dead in the ambush? Yes, they do come from your retain. But I wonder, do you really care?”

Matsudaira smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “This is duty, Hyou. Care has nothing to do with it.”

***

In any other circumstances, the constant rattles of wheels on gravels, the steady sway of the horse-drawn carriage would have been soothing. As it was, they did not even register in Alistair Hawthorne’s mind. Adrian Devonshire sat quietly opposite him, too familiar with Hawthorne’s mood to disturb him right now.

The true step will have to be taken from your side.

Hawthorne’s fingers tightened on the head of his wooden cane.

Thirty years. Thirty years of service to the government, ten of those in the foreign service. Would it all go to waste?

Three years in this god-forsaken country, lowering himself to deal with these arrogant savages. And what did it all amount to? To be superseded by a man two decades his junior, a man who would not even be in the council if not for his family’s backing. To have all he had worked so hard for turn to dust. He was to be recalled, his position taken over by Rutherford, and all the glory of the new policy. Once he returned to London, what does he have? He had always made his preference for Japan’s current government well-known, one of the reason why he was appointed to head the Japan embassy three years ago. The ministers back in London were strongly supporting the Shogunate then.

But things change fast, especially in the political world. As trading increased with the resources-rich Satsuma province, and anti-foreigner sentiment mellowed among the ruling heads of the provinces, Parliament support began to shift towards peaceful relations with the former enemies. War was costly, as the two previous short but intense navy assaults on the Satsuma and Choshu provinces had proven. It was money lost that could be better used on other things.

The faction he belongs to had lost popular support, and he had gathered bits and pieces of the news, helpless to change anything from here, as the support slowly shift to their rival. And now it had come to this. The motherland lowering herself to deal with fanatics and rebels, with assassins and terrorists.

In the end, he was betrayed in the name of expediency.

Matsudaira’s voice seemed to echo in his mind. That soft, cultured voice that remained serene in any situations. Even when it was whispering murder and treason.

If Lawrence Rutherford is to disappear, what then?

One more month, and he would depart this foreign shore, back to England. He would be knighted then, for life-long service to his country. And then he would be retired in honor.

An honor empty of meaning, a forced retirement for a man past his prime, given so that he would be out of the way of the new government.

A lot of things could happen in one month’s time.

He had used all his power and influence to be assigned to this backward country, as one of the burgeoning land of trading opportunity. For years, his words were the final voice in the shaping of foreign policies for this land. This was to be his coup, the crowning cap of his thirty-year service and his chance to leave his mark on history, and among his peers.

None of that would happen if they found out about his involvement with the raided shipment. Not a betrayal, that. He believed it with all his heart. He could not stand aside while weapons were delivered to the rebels, delivered by his own government while he was told to spout lies to the real authority in this land. Better that the weapons disappear. Better that this accursed dealings died still-born before England was dragged any further into this morass.

If Rutherford disappeared...

There would be a period of chaos. Things took a long time to reach London, and even longer for any kind of official orders to crawl back to Kyoto. In the mean time, as the highest voice of authority, power would return back to him. The intervening time would be enough for the plan that he and Matsudaira Sakon conceived. And once he could present those fools back home with success on a silver platter, it won’t matter how he’d obtained it. No one could argue with success.

If Rutherford disappeared...

...

“Can you arrange an accident?”

Adrian understood immediately. Having an unscrupulous right-hand man had its advantages.

“On the risk of sounding overconfident, I have to say it’s easy. We have quite a few channels outside, so we could do it ourselves. I could vouch for the loyalty of most of our men. But we would have to take care that Jamieson didn’t catch wind of it.”

“Oh?” Hawthorne stroked his beard. “Our famously impartial chief of security actually have a political preference?”

“I beg to differ, Sir. He’s Rutherford’s man, through and through. His family was an old retainer of the Rutherford family, and Lawrence Rutherford personally sponsored him into the military, and subsequently the intelligence and foreign affairs department. If he heard of this, he would definitely warn Rutherford, even try to put a stop to it.”

Adrian paused. “Actually, the best way would be to ask Matsudaira’s side to arrange a ‘leak’ to the streets. I’m thinking something along travel arrangement. It should be easy, and it would look a lot more natural.”

Hawthorne nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe... It would give him something to hold over us though, even if we have a few handles on him as well...”

“Once the word is out, the rest is almost inevitable. There won’t be any shortage of ‘patriots’ who’ll welcome the chance to kill a high-ranking ‘gaijin’. I think we can even ask Matsudaira to make sure some of the more organized gangs are informed. Just to be sure it’s done properly.”

The inside of the carriage was silent aside from the soft tapping of Hawthorne’s fingers on the wooden head of his cane. Then -

“Ishin Shishi.”

Adrian blinked, “Excuse me sir, I don’t quite...”

“Blame it on Ishin Shishi,” Hawthorne turned his head to look at Adrian, the coldness in his grey eyes giving his half-smile a chilling look.

“The man himself said he’s going to meet with some Choshu or Satsuma Ishin leaders. What better way to botch up the deal than by having the ambassador of England killed by the trusted allies? I’m sure it can be arranged, can’t it? You told me there are several opposing factions inside those Ishin Shishi themselves. Any of the more extreme ones that we can make use of?”

Adrian smiled, “Yes, sir, I see what you mean. And yes, it can be done. In fact, I know of just the faction that will be perfect for the job. I think Matsudaira will be delighted to arrange it.” On seeing Hawthorne’s questioning look, Adrian added, “Some personal thing that happened in the past. A long story.”

Hawthorne snorted with some amusement, “Be sure to tell me next time, but for now I think I’ll take that afternoon nap. Make the arrangement with Matsudaira the next time you see him again.”

“Yes, sir.” Adrian paused, then added a bit diffidently, “If I may suggest, this will also be a golden opportunity to get rid of one other thorn on our side.”

Hawthorne frowned at him. “You mean Jamieson?”

Adrian nodded.

“If you think you can arrange it, then do it. Won’t it look suspicious?”

“Not really. If Lawrence is going somewhere, he’ll need guards, and Jamieson usually lead them personally. His replacement, Lieutenant Brighton, is young enough to be easily handled.”

The carriage slowed down as it approached their destination. The high walls of the Embassy could be seen from the carriage windows.

“Fine, then do it.”

“Sir. How should we report it to London?”

Hawthorne smiled indulgently. “Report? We’re the final authority on what news goes on the ship to London. Just enough...evidence...to convince the old fools back home.”

The carriage stopped and Adrian step down first, holding the door open for Hawthorne. Hawthorne strode forward without a backward glance. There was no doubt in his mind that Adrian would accomplish all those tasks with the professional perfection that had made the young secretary so valuable to him. It was, after all, the reason why he still kept him by his side, despite his past and that troublesome event two years ago.

***

The rescue team reached the mansion as false dawn break. The place was deserted and there was almost no one about as Sakamoto was whisked with as minimum fuss as possible to the back garden. Katsura Kogoro was waiting quietly at the hall, accompanied by two of his guards.

“Yo, Kogoro.” Sakamoto grinned a casual greeting at him.

Katsura’s tense expression relaxed at seeing them. “Ryoma, are you all right?”

“Aa. Thanks to your help here.”

Katsura frowned at the blood-splattered clothing. “Do you need to see a physician?”

“No need. But I need to talk to you. Preferably now.”

At Katsura’s nod, Himura and the rest of the guards peeled off and left through the side exit. The two guards with Katsura bowed and followed them off.

Katsura stepped inside a small pavilion and waved Sakamoto in. Several jars of sake sat on the marble table, wisps of steam escaping in the cold air. Sakamoto made a gratified sound and made a beeline for it.

Katsura waited until half of the jars were empty before speaking.

“Who were they?”

Sakamoto shrugged. “Soldiers. Bakufu’s dogs. It’s over.”

”Did they interrogate you?”

Sakamoto smiled mirthlessly. “No. But Kaishuu came. You remember him.” At Katsura’s nod he continued. “Maybe he was supposed to interrogate me, but if he was, he did a piss poor job of it.”

He slurped his cup noisily. “But in any case, interrogation is not necessary. Kaishuu told me I’m black-listed now. A warrant is out for my head. I’m now officially a rebel – an enemy of the government.” A disdainful snort. “So much for me remaining civilian. Good thing I’ve already passed my company on to my trusted men. They’d take good care of it.”

Katsura grimaced lightly. “That was unfortunate. You will have to stay in hiding now, like the rest of us. And that will hinder some things. But no matter.” Katsura gave Sakamoto an ironic smile. “Welcome to the company.”

He waited politely for the other man to stop chortling before continuing. “You’ve seen the weapons?”

“Ah, yes.” Sakamoto sagged against the railing, head leaning back to stare up at the pavilion’s ceiling. When he next spoke again, it was rueful. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m the one that said they can be trusted.”

Katsura’s shoulders slumped minutely.

“So… it’s really British weapons?”

Sakamoto grunted, hauling himself upright to look at Katsura. “There’re no writings on them, just numbers. They’re pretty careful about it, but I’ve seen quite a few western weapons in my time in the Naval Academy. I can almost say for sure that they’re British made. The French’s products have a slightly different build to them.”

“Could it have been obtained by a third party?”

“Possibly, for the gatling-guns. But the Armstrong cannon is only produced by Britain, and considering how powerful that weapon is, they’re pretty determined to keep it out of the black market. Basically by shooting anyone who tried to buy or smuggle them illegally,” Sakamoto’s voice was dry. “Very effective method, that. I heard it worked pretty well.”

“Then…”

Sakamoto gave a deep sigh. “But on the last negotiation in Nagasaki they promised us a sample of the Armstrong cannon, around this time of the year. How big a coincidence is that? How many brand new Armstrong cannons do you think are hanging around unattached to a ship and packed for shipment? I hate to say it, but I think there’s a distinct possibility that cannon was the one meant for us.”

“So,” Katsura’s voice was disquietingly calm, “the alliance is null?”

“Maybe. But… can you trust me one more time?”

“What do you want to do?”

“Wait a few days for me. I’m going to make an appointment with the representative they said is coming to Kyoto. He should be here already. I want to hear what he has to say.”

Katsura’s brows drew together in a frown. “Are you sure? If they have indeed gone back on their word to us, then they won’t hesitate to turn you in to the government, or even kill you. They should know you’re wanted.”

“It’s so nice to be important,” Sakamoto grumbled sarcastically, but he gave Katsura a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. The moment I feel something’s not right, I’m out of there. I’m not going to be all brave and heroic and get myself killed.”

“But seriously Kogoro. There’s something not quite right here. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my hide on the line. It doesn’t make sense for them to go back on their word like this. You might disagree, but my gut feeling says there’s something more to this than just the surface appearance.”

Katsura was silent as he considered it. All the indications seemed to point to the British betraying them, yet… If this alliance broke up, then they have no hope of overthrowing the Bakufu. They would have to secure another alliance for weapons, it that was even possible. Bakufu was not likely to sit still and left them on their own for long.

Maybe it was foolish to grasp at a handful of straws, to depend only on one man’s gut feelings, but the alternative was much worse. Sometimes one simply had to take a leap of faith.

“All right,” Katsura said slowly as the other man’s face broke into a wide grin, “have a talk with them. If they even want to talk with you still. But I want you to bring Himura with you.”

“Eh? Kenshin?” Sakamoto’s delight died down as he scrutinized his friend. “Don’t you need him with you? I heard it hasn’t been all that…peaceful…around you lately. ”

“For the time being you may need him more than I do.”

“Do you think it will come to that?”

Katsura gave a heavy sigh, the first time in the conversation he openly showed his misgivings. “I don’t know. I hope not, but if it does come to a fight, then I trust no one better to bring you out of it safely.”

Sakamoto rubbed his stubbled chin absently, then gave a decisive nod. “Alright. I’ll bring Kenshin with me. To hell with them… if they’re going to put a prize on my head, I might as well bring Ishin Shishi’s strongest fighter with me.”

He suddenly changed the topic. “Does the others know yet?”

Katsura caught on immediately. “About the British? No. I don’t think they’re ready yet for this. The whole business with Satsuma is already hard enough to swallow, I want to get them used to one thing before revealing another.”

“Would they guess who had sold the shipment to Bakufu?”

“I told them that it was probably French. I think they would believe me, there was no reason for them not to. You, Shinsaku, and myself are the resident experts on gaijin weapons. Besides, the French people do have the ability to do sell this shipment. As long as no one finds out about the details of our discussion with the British, then they won’t guess.”

“Keeping your cards close to your chest, eh, Katsura?” Sakamoto half-grimaced at him. “Don’t get me wrong. I agree with your analysis. I just don’t want to think about the kind of shit that’s going to fly once you do decide to tell them.”

“I know.” Katsura brooded. “Believe me. If there’s anything even worse than alliance with Satsuma-han, then it’s alliance with gaijin. Which is why I want to get some concrete proof of advantages from this alliance, before letting the others in on this.”

Sakamoto nodded. “The weapons.”

“Hai. The weapons. Which we may not get after all.”

“I’ll handle it. Do you have a line into the British Embassy? It’s probably best for me not to show my face publicly there. It’s too obvious.”

“Yes, I do. Give me two days. I’ll pass on the message for you.”

***

Okita Souji, Captain of Shinsengumi First Troop, weaved his way through the crowded market street easily. He was carrying a big sake drum on his left hand, freshly bought for the communal dinner with the other captains later. He walked slowly, partly because of the still-healing wound on his left leg, partly because he was simply enjoying the simple outing too much to hurry.

The sound of stall owners hawking their goods filled the air, clashing with the sound of live food animals. A sound of commotion in front, then a few boys zipped past laughing, an apple clutched in each of their hands. He hid a smile, stepping aside in time to let a portly middle-aged man pass, puffing and cursing at the boys.

He passed the British Embassy, frowning a bit at the evidence of new fire burns on the fence and gates. A faint feeling of guilt stirred at that. Not for the casualties, which had been low, but for the fact that it had happened in the first place. Shinsengumi was supposed to be the protector of Kyoto, guarding her against unrests, yet there were so many things that they could not prevent from happening. They were stretched too thin to be everywhere at once, and Bakufu had not allowed them to expand further. There were whispers that some officials were afraid they were becoming too powerful, too influential, uncontrollable.

Okita shook his head at that. Everything was politics these days. He knew there was a very good reason that he did not want to be anything higher than just a Gumichou.

And then there was that conversation he had with Hijikata-san a few days ago.

“Some parts of the government are looking to find faults in us. Faults that they can use to disgrace and weaken us.”

Okita stared at Hijikata’s lean profile, outlined against the open verandah. “But why?”

“Why… because we’ve been growing too much in the last year, too fast and too aggressively. Ever since we helped bring down Choshu attack on the Royal Palace, our stature has increased, but we’ve also made enemies. And the bad thing is, we don’t know who they are.”

Okita shook his head. “They want to get rid of us because we’re a threat to their power? Even though we’re practically in the verge of civil war?”

“To them, nothing is more important than their own position.”

“Kondou-san is under great pressure to take responsibility for the break-in two weeks ago, and the subsequent spill of vital information.”

Okita bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault. We all fell for the ruse, including the officials who called us to protect their houses. But to protect themselves, they might force Kondou-san to take full responsibility. And to shield us, Kondou-san might just do that. ”

“Masaka… harakiri…?”

“The timing was incredibly bad for us. They’ve been looking for a weakness, and they’ve found it. The only thing we can do now is to find the traitor. It may not be enough to take all the burden off Kondou-san, but it may reduce the punishment.”

Okita sighed. Find the traitor. Easy to say, but where could you find him or her?

A sudden slowing of traffic in the front, a blocking concentration of passers-by, caught his attention. A few burnt out husks of buildings stood beside the road, the devastation recent though enough time had passed for the inevitable crumbling debris to be swept aside to clear the road.

A handful of men and women were rummaging listlessly among the debris, possibly the previous owners of the buildings. One young woman in a soot-streaked kimono sat on a fallen beam, staring at the ruin with bleak face. She looked familiar.

Okita blinked. He did know her. He hastened towards her.

“Matsubara-san.”

The young woman slowly turned to give him an empty stare. Her normally pretty face was blank and pale.

“Matsubara-san,” Okita said gently, “it’s me, Okita-desu. What happened?”

The girl’s eyes finally flickered with recognition. “Okita…san?” She gave a half-aborted wave towards the ruin. “I… my home. They told me it was burned, but… I didn’t know…” Her head lowered and her half-loose hair fell to cover her face. “My parents…they’re inside when it…” Tears started to trickle down her cheeks.

“Matsubara-san…” Okita started to apologize, feeling guilty for causing her more pain, when another girl who had been rummaging in the ruin hurried over to her.

“Ayako-san, daijobu?” The girl gave Ayako a gentle hug. “Don’t cry, you promised you will try to be strong, didn’t you?” She used a clean corner of her kimono to wipe the Ayako’s tears as the girl hugged her back, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs. “It’s all right. Just stay with me in my house for the moment. I’ll help you work it out, alright?” She looked up and Okita was struck by the warm gentleness in her eyes. She bowed to him, “I’m sorry to intrude.”

“No, that’s alright. You’re…?”

“Hai, my name is Kawasaki. Douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”

“Ah, Okita-desu.”

“I know.” Kawasaki gave him a small smile.

“Eh?”

“Ayako-san told me about you. And you are rather… famous.”

“Oh, is that so?” Okita did not quite know what to say to that.

Kawasaki put her arms around Ayako. “Ayako-san just got back home. I had informed her sooner, but someone called Yamazaki-san wouldn’t let her go until today.”

Yamazaki-san? Ah, he must have interrogated all of the staff at the headquarter. That means Matsubara must be clean.

“Will she be all right?”

Kawasaki looked down at Ayako. “My family and I will take care of her. We live just down the road, at the cloth shop. We’ve been neighbours for a while, we’ll take care of our own.”

Okita turned to go, but a strange impulse made him turned around and called back to the departing girls. “I’m sorry, Kawasaki-san.”

“Eh?”

“May I be so bold… can I ask your given name, please?”

Kawasaki looked slightly startled. Okita hastily added, “Only if you don’t mind of course.”

She bit her lips, hesitated, then in a soft voice – “Himiko-desu.”

Okita walked back home with an extra spring in his steps even though he could not quite figure out why.

***

Okita slid open the door to the main dining hall and cheerfully announce himself. “Tadaimaa… ara?”

There was no one in the room except for one orange and white-striped tabby lazing in the open verandah opposite the entrance. It turned its unblinking green eyes at him.

“Meowr?”

“Aah…” Okita plunked down the drum of sake and sank against a beam. “I wonder where everybody is…,” he mumbled to himself.

The sounds of approaching footsteps lifted his head, and he brightened on seeing a certain tall, thin Captain he had not seen for quite a while. A rather dusty, rather worn and, judging from the scowl, rather seriously aggravated man.

“Saitou-san. Welcome back.”

Saitou Hajime of Third Troop Shingsengumi gave a short grunt in reply and sank down into seat opposite Okita. “Where’s everyone?” he asked without preamble.

“Funny, that was the first thing I asked too.”

Saitou gave him an irritated look, but Okita was used to that. He poked his head out of the room and waved to a passing servant. “Excuse me, can you tell me where all the other captains went to?”

The man bowed. “A messenger came just now. It seems that there was a fight in an old army barrack outside of town last night. Some of the captains went to investigate.”

“Arigatou.” Okita smiled at Saitou. “There you go.”

Saitou nodded and busied himself taking off his swords. Okita broke the clay seal of the sake jar with a swift, practised punch and offered it to Saitou. The older man accepted the offer and drank straight from the jar.

“So are you having any luck?” Okita asked quietly, his voice gone serious despite the still smiling face.

Saitou wiped his mouth. “Good sake.”

Okita beamed. “The best, all the way from Kanagawa.”

Saitou handed the jar to Okita and answered his first question. “The chase will take more time than I’d like. There’re a lot of false trails laid in. Ieda Yasuhiro is one slippery bastard. Cunning as a fox too. He kept his own hands far away from the dirty actions, which makes it that much harder to trace it to him.”

“But you’re sure it’s him?” Okita sipped the sake.

“Yes. Three separate sources named him. But they’re criminals and cheap labor workers, their words aren’t going to weigh anything.”

“I think… time is running out.”

Saitou looked at Okita sharply. “What made you say that?”

Okita merely shook his head. Hijikata-san most probably would inform Saitou about the tightening noose around the Shinsengumi, but until he did, it was not Okita’s place to say anything further.

When it was obvious Okita was not going to reveal anything more, Saitou grunted irritably. “I had a lousy day today. For some reason, our informants are being even more skittish than usual.”

“Oh?” Okita blinked at him. “Any particular reason?”

“No one was saying anything… except that I had the sense something scared them all spitless.” Saitou scowled down at his sake cup. The expression was even more forbidding than usual. “Not even a good beating helped. And I wasn’t pulling punches.”

“That’s… worrying.” Okita did not like this. They did not need another trouble on top of what was already brewing. “Maybe we should talk to the others when they come back. See if anyone has heard of anything.”

Saitou grunted non-committally. He was not encouraged. The third troop’s net of information was better than most of the others. And if he found nothing, the rest would probably be no better. He just wished that there were something more concrete that he could latch on. This feeling in the air, the indefinable something that had his hackles up for weeks was driving him into murderous frustration.

“I’m going to suggest to up the frequency of patrols for the next few days. Just as a precaution.”

“If you say so,” Okita nodded. “We could also call back those that are currently away on visits if you want. I’m sure Harada-san won’t mind.”

When Saitou said nothing, Okita left to get more cups. After the door slid closed, Saitou turned his gaze on the cat still lying on the verandah. It watched him with what looked like controlled wariness. Its whiskers twitched.

Saitou narrowed his gaze and slowly pulled his lips back, letting just a hint of teeth through.

The tabby let out a startled screech and shot out of the verandah in a streak of orange.

Saitou smirked and sat on the space the cat just vacated, then went to work sharpening his katana. He had a feeling he would be needing it very soon.

***