--- Edo,
Shogun’s castle
A golden koi
broke the surface of the lavish man-made pond, shattering the tranquil
mirror-perfect reflection of soaring towers and somber, sprawling edifices.
Fins and scales glittering like true gold, the fish plunged back into the water
with a subdued splash.
A man with
snowy-white hair sat cross-legged on an ornamental red bridge spanning the far
end of the large pond. A baby toddler in too-large clothes was playing by
herself on the bridge behind him. Her large eyes were squinted in concentration
as she tried to snag some cat-tails growing below the bridge, leaning rather
precariously out of the safety of the bridge.
The man did
not seem to notice though. His eyes were intent on a boy no more than twelve
years of age. Floating on the surface of the water were pieces of planks,
barely large enough to stand on. The boy was moving rapidly, stepping from one
plank of wood to another in seemingly random selection.
However, his
movement was too graceful and fluid to be described as such. Rather, he seemed
to dance on the surface of the water,
the half-submerged planks lending to the illusion. He never stayed in one place
for long, long legs almost flickering as he flitted from one plank to the
other, weight and balance perfectly controlled so not one step-point received
enough force to sink. A kodachi was gripped in his right hand, the fine blue
steel throwing flashes of quick-silver light as he spun it in an intricate kata
of flowing movements. His still boyish face was drawn in intense concentration,
unusual in one so young.
The sitting
man gave a small approving nod, lost on the distracted boy. A smile creased the
man’s wide mouth, and he quietly picked up a small stone. He waited until the
boy was facing away from him, then in one smooth motion pitched the small
projectile at the boy’s back.
The boy whirled around and his kodachi
swung up in a blur that struck the stone away from his chest. But he could not compensate
for the sudden motion and with a faint bitten-off yelp, his left leg plunged
through the water, unbalancing him. He was saved from a humiliating dump into
the water by some frantic hops that got both his feet down on the bottom of the
waist-deep pond. But the inevitable splashing managed to get him quite
thoroughly sopping wet.
He wordlessly
pulled his sodden ponytail away from his face and peered up through dripping
bangs at the white-haired man, who was openly chortling. His mute gaze spoke of
his protest quite succinctly.
The person
responsible for his dunking merely grinned unapologetically at the boy, wagging
one finger mockingly.
“You were
doing the Ryuusui no Ugoki very well.
And I’ll give you another bonus point for catching my stone. But if you lose
your rhythm every time you defend against an unexpected attack, then you might
as well be fish-food, Aoshi.”
Aoshi
resignedly hitched himself out of the pond. From his weary acceptance, it would
seem that pond-dunking was a fairly common occurrence.
“Hai,
Okashira.”
The 16th
Okashira of Edo jo Oniwabanshuu, Makimachi Hayato, gave his favourite student a
wide grin.
“Maa, maa,
don’t be disappointed, you were doing the Kenbu
steps very well. If you keep on at the rate you’re going, you’ll soon master
the combined water-flow steps and kodachi attacks. Maybe I can even start you
on the Kodachi Niitou Ryuu before you’re even fifteen.”
As he spoke,
the man casually reached a hand behind him to snag the toddler who was just
about to fall into the pond herself. The little girl wriggled unhappily in the
old man’s embrace, then she caught sight of Aoshi, dripping his way towards the
bridge, and she broke into a delighted squeal.
Aoshi eyed
her morosely as he knelt in front of Makimachi. “She’s laughing at me.”
“No, she’s
not,” Makimachi retorted. “She’s just always happy to see you, that’s all. Naa,
aren’t you happy to see Aoshi-kun, Misao-chan?”
“Ao-chan!
Ao-chan!” Misao-chan agreed loudly, all the while trying to wriggle herself out
of Makimachi’s grasp.
“I wonder why
she kept calling you that,” Makimachi mused aloud, eyes glinting wickedly at
the boy’s rather pained look.
“It’s
Hara-san,” Aoshi replied with a carefully neutral face. “She and the others
kept calling me –chan and Misao picked up on that.”
“Ah-hah, and
she can’t pronounce Ao-Shi yet, can she?” Makimachi bounced Misao-chan lightly
to get her attention and asked her in all seriousness, “Misao-chan. Can you say
AO – SHI? A-O-SHI.” He blithely ignored the owner of the name’s indignant look.
“Okashira,
she really can’t…”
“Ao-Chyan!! Ao-Chyan!!”
“…say my name
yet,” Aoshi finished with a sigh.
“Ao-chyan Dai-suki!”
Makimachi
laughed out loud, the deep sound resonating in the quiet garden. “Well, at
least she got the first part right. I think we’ll wait a while before letting
her call you by your surname.”
“She… tried,”
Aoshi carefully. It had been less than successful. In fact, it had been rather
spectacularly un-successful.
Misao-chan
finally succeeded in wriggling herself out of Makimachi’s arms, and she ran
straight towards Aoshi. She ignored the uncomfortably wet clothes in the way
very young children would and plunked herself on Aoshi’s lap. She beamed up at
Aoshi’s rather embarassed face.
“Ara!”
Makimachi exclaimed in mock horror at the abandonment. “Misao-chan doesn’t like
Ojiichan?” the old man asked the toddler piteously, though his laughing eyes
belied his tone.
Misao-chan
chirped up brightly, “Jiichan, jiichyan suki-da!” But she did not let go of her
grip on Aoshi’s tunic.
“But
Misao-chan like Aoshi-chan better, ne?”
Misao-chan
nodded vigorously, her tiny heart-shaped face glowing with happiness,“Ao-chyan
daisuki! Ao-chyan!” The young boy tried to maintain a stoic expression, but it
was hard with a pair of tiny arms wrapped almost suffocatingly around his
throat.
The old man’s
face was one of artfully heart-broken expression, his voice wavering
tremulously as he asked the little girl, “Misao-chan like Ao-chan more than she
likes Ojiichan. Nobody wants Ojiichan anymore, Ojiichan is so sad...”
Misao-chan
peered up from where her face was buried on Aoshi’s chest and looked back and
forth between her grandfather and Aoshi. Her tiny face was starting to scrunch
up in distress, one hand letting go of Aoshi’s tunic to reach towards her
grandfather. “Ojiichyan daisuki! Ao-chyan daisuki.” But she did not move from
her position in Aoshi’s lap. Aoshi looked at her apprehensively, awkwardness
and embarassment warring with increasing alarm. He had some idea of where this
would inevitably lead to.
Misao-chan’s
eyes were starting to tear up, and she finally wailed, “Ojiichyan to Ao-chyan to daisukiii!!!” Aoshi winced at her wail and clumsily tried to soothe
the sobbing toddler by patting her back.
Makimachi
threw his head back and burst into deep-throated laughter, slapping his folded
knees with merriment. Very few things could break the boy’s almost unnatural
composure, so the sight of him being completely overwhelmed by a two-year old
toddler was very precious indeed. Little Misao had done more to draw young
Aoshi out of his shell than any other person, and that effect was not exclusive
to Aoshi alone. Her birth two years ago had been like a ray of light in the
collective Oniwabanshu’s normally quiet and still life. Like a breath of fresh
wind and life. Even after the death of her parents.
Shinzo, Miharu, if you two could only see her
now...
A middle–aged
plump woman emerged from the side wing, bearing some steaming tea cups. Her
kindly face lit up at the scene.
“Ara,
Makimachi-sama, have you been teasing Misao-chan again ?” she asked her
Makimachi with fond exasperation.
“Why,
Marida-san,” Makimachi grinned back at her, “why do you always assume it’s me?
Aoshi is the one holding her right now.”
Marida looked
at the slightly flustered boy, trying his best to still the toddler’s crying
fit, with little success, and huffed slightly, “Aoshi-kun is too good a boy to
make Misao cry, Makimachi-sama. It’s her grandfather who always tease her into
crying.” She moved in swiftly and attempted to take the crying little girl into
her arms. Or at least, she tried.
Despite the
sobs and hiccups that shook her whole tiny body, Misao’s chubby fingers were
firmly knotted into the fabric of Aoshi’s wet suit. When Marida tried to pry
her loose from Aoshi, Misao-chan emitted an indignant little cry and burrowed
her face even deeper against Aoshi’s chest.
Makimachi
roared again with laughter and Marida could not help but chuckle. A slight
blush rose in Aoshi’s normally expressionless face as he looked down helplessly
at the tenacious toddler who seemed determined to become a permanent fixture to
his body.
“Ara,
Aoshi-kun,” Marida chuckled softly, “She doesn’t seem to want to let go. If I
force her, I’m afraid she’ll just cry even harder. I’m so sorry, but would you
be so kind as to carry Misao to her bed? It’s time for her afternoon nap. She
won’t be stubborn if it’s you putting her to bed, she always does listen to you
best.”
“...” Aoshi
looked at Marida, his youthful face slightly doubtful. The silence elegantly
questioned Misao-chan’s ability to listen to anyone.
“Remember the
last time I took her forcibly from you, Aoshi-kun ?”
Aoshi winced
at that. ‘the last time’ was two days ago late at night. Misao-chan had
stubbornly refused to sleep without him by her side. After she had fallen
asleep, Marida had had to help him pry her fingers from where they were firmly
wrapped around his hair. But somehow the sleeping little girl had realized what
had happened. Her indignant shriek had woken up nearly the whole household that
night.
Makimachi
gleefully supplied, “That’s my Misao-chan. She’s born with a very healthy set of
lungs, I’m sure she’ll be a very strong little kunoichi when she grows up.”
“A bit too
strong perhaps,” Marida murmured with a slight smile. “Aoshi-kun?”
Aoshi gave a
nearly inaudible sigh, yielding to the inevitable. “Okashira?” he asked softly.
Makimachi
grinned at him, “Aa, go on. The training is over for today. Practice again by
yourself, and I’ll talk to you again later.”
Aoshi bowed
to him, his perfect gesture of respect slightly marred by the fact that he had
a two-year-old toddler clinging to his chest. Misao-chan sighed contentedly and
nestled more securely into his grip. Despite his wet clothes, Aoshi’s departure
was still as silent as ever.
“They grew up
so fast,” Marida remarked wistfully. “It seems only yesterday that Shiori gave
birth to Misao-chan. And has it really been six years since Aoshi-kun came to
live with us?”
“Be careful,
Marida-san,” Makimachi replied cheerfully, “You’re showing your age. Only old
people talk about time flying past.”
“Yes, yes,
and I guess *you* will always be thirty, won’t you? You incorrigible old man.”
“That’s
right.” Makimachi grinned at her. Aoshi and Misao had disappeared into the
adjacent building. Makimachi Makimachi’s face turned serious. Gone was the
playful and relaxed mannerism, replaced instead with sombre gravity.
“So, what’s
the news from Kyoto?”
Marida
immediately picked up on her leader’s change of mood. She pulled out a tiny
letter tube from inside the hem of her kimono and passed it over to him with
both hands. Makimachi Hayato uncapped it and rolled out the small thin
parchment inside. For a while, all was silent as he read the thick scrawling on
it. Then, he wordlessly passed it over to Marida.
Marida’s eyes
went wider as she read the coded message. “This is… Makimachi-sama!”
Makimachi
Hayato got up and walked out to the pond-side, staring down at the now placid
water.
“…Okashira.”
“…well, I’ve
been expecting something like this to come to my hand for the last six years.
And here it is.”
Marida gazed
at Makimachi’s back, the deceptively relaxed posture still betraying signs of
tenseness to her eyes. In her heart she ached with… pain… pity…resignation, and
a sense of inevitability.
“I will
prepare for your journey to Kyoto, then,” she murmured.
Makimachi nodded,
his back still towards her. “Thank you.”
“Are you
taking any others with you?”
“…No.”
Marida looked
down. “What about Aoshi-kun?”
“He’ll be
fine here. This is a good chance for him to try taking over some of the
responsibilities. He’ll need a lot of leadership training. For the future.”
“…that’s not what I meant.”
“I know,
Marida.” Makimachi’s voice was surprisingly gentle.
Marida said
nothing more. She bowed to him once, formally, then left the garden with the
quiet steps of a trained omnitsu.
Makimachi
sighed once and gazed up at the clear blue sky.
“What needs
to be done… will be done. There is no going around this one, is there?”
The heaven
gave him no answers.
***
“Come on, people,
our resting place is right over there. Walk faster, or it’ll be dark before we
ever get there.”
A few
half-hearted groans answered Kanzaki’s order. Kyosuke replaced the straw hat
he’d been fanning himself with back on his head and obediently got off the
ground. The other men in their little group followed far less willingly,
accompanied by a lot of groaning and
complaining.
Their
destination could be seen from here, a sprawling house complex nestled to the
forested mountainside that spread over more ground than Kyosuke would ever have
believed possible. He had seen entire villages smaller than that. Before he
came to Kyoto, he would never have believed such wealth existed -- and just how
big a difference there could be between the rich and the poor.
He hefted the
thick wooden pole that he and another man was responsible for carrying, and
heard the other fellow grunted with the weight of it. The sturdy basket in the
middle looked no different than any other baskets that farmers habitually use
to carry their products to markets. And the surface of it was indeed piled with
leafy vegetables to ward off inspection. But this basket, and the other two
identical baskets carried by his little group of men, contained something far
heavier than any market produce.
Something far
more dangerous.
It had been a
week since they had ambushed the supply troupe. By the time anyone came to
investigate the late troupe, they had long since moved the precious boxes
downstream by boats. The numerous rivers around Kyoto were a very useful form
of transportation. They had hid the weapons in a secure place, then Kanzaki had
called on a few men to bring a sample to show to their leaders. Kyosuke had
been one of them.
It still took
until sunset for them to arrive at the mansion. The gatekeeper recognized
Kanzaki immediately and they were ushered in to the kitchen. The concealing
vegetables were all taken out, the shining western rifles and the ominous
gatling gun that kept giving Kyosuke the chills were all placed in one closed
basket. Then Kanzaki motioned for Kyosuke to follow him.
They padded
through the covered walkways between buildings, Kyosuke gawking unashamedly at
the exquisite gardens, ponds, and the rich paneling of the buildings. This was
his first time here, although he had heard of it. The mansion was a mountain
retreat of a rich merchant who was heavily involved with the Ishin movement,
although that fact was not well known. They passed servants on the way who eyed
the two men dubiously, but Kanzaki breezed through them without a glance.
Kyosuke followed more self-consciously, acutely aware of his dirty farmer’s
clothing.
Kanzaki
stopped in front of a room guarded by two samurais, one of which knocked on the
wooden panel deferentially.
A soft voice
called from the inside, “Come in.”
The shoji was
slid aside and they shuffled inside, Kyosuke keeping his eyes down
respectfully.
“Ah, good to
see you back and well, Kanzaki-kun. We’ve received your message three days ago,
good work.”
Kyosuke
peered up to see a grey-haired old man sitting beside Katsura Kogoro. The man
was small in stature, with wispy white beard and mustache. But despite his
slight build and age, there was an aura of contained power and authority in
him, hidden within an air of serenity.
And sitting
across from them...
Kyosuke
blinked in shock and blurted without thinking, “Himura?!”
The redheaded
youth lifted his head to look at Kyosuke. Something flickered in his eyes and the
corner of his lips seemed to curve in the slightest smile that disappeared as
his gaze swept over Kanzaki. He nodded to the other man, face blank,
“Kanzaki-san.”
Kanzaki gave
Kyosuke a quelling look and nodded back to Himura just as coolly. “Himura.” Then
he turned and bowed deeply to his leaders, “Aizawa-san, Katsura-san, I’m back.”
Aizawa-san? Ah, Aizawa Shigenobu. Kyosuke had never met him before, but every Choshu Ishin Shishi
knew his name. He was one of the eldest and foremost factual leaders of Choshu
Ishin Shishi, with strong personal followera among the Shishis. He,
Katsura-san, and Ieda-san were the three single most influential men among the
Choshu faction Shishi. But the rumours whispered among the lower ranks said
that not all was well between the three men.
Kanzaki was
motioning for the basket now. Kyosuke forced his mind away from the disturbing
track and helped the other man to unload the weapons inside. He lifted the
gatling gun out and heard a sharp intake of breath. Katsura-san was staring
fixedly at the gun.
“Let me see
that...”
He took the
bulky weapon from Kyosuke’s hands. Both Aizawa and Himura were watching raptly,
Himura’s eyes acquiring that wintry glint that was part of Hitokiri Battousai’s
reputation.
Katsura-san
turned the weapon over in his hands, running his hands over the thick multiple
barrels. “I’ve never seen this one before,” he murmured, “it’s most probably
the latest type.”
Aizawa turned
towards Kanzaki. “What about that cannon?”
Kanzaki
lowered his head towards Aizawa, “Hai. As said before, it was too heavy to move
around, so I put it in one of our hiding places. I’ve checked it over, but I’m
afraid I don’t know much about gaijins’ weapons. I understand Katsura-san is
sending someone to go and look it over.”
“Oh?”
Katsura
calmly answered Aizawa’s questioning look, “Sakamoto-san was in the vicinity. I
sent a quick letter to him to take a detour and have a look at the Armstrong
cannon. He knows the gaijins and their weapons far better than we do, he’ll be
able to inform us better. I’m expecting him to come here soon, today or in the
next few days.”
“Sakamoto
Ryoma…ka?” Aizawa leaned back, sighing heavily. “They weren’t supposed to sell
these,” he murmured almost to himself. “No frigates, no Armstrong cannons, no
gatling-guns - that is the rule all sides follow.”
“Followed.”
Katsura-san’s gaze was dark as he looked at his fellow leader. “Someone had
broken the rule. Just as predicted, things are going to change very soon. It
would seem it had already started.”
“We’ll have
to discuss this further.” Aizawa nodded towards Kanzaki and Kyosuke. “Thank
you, this is a very important discovery indeed. Make sure that it does not
spread.”
Kanzaki bowed
to him, “Hai, I’ve already warned all of my men. They won’t say anything.” Then
recognizing the unspoken order, he pulled Kyosuke along with him to the exit.
Himura gave the two Ishin leaders a bow then followed them out of the room.
Kyosuke kept
his mouth shut until they had walked far enough not to disturb their leaders,
then he burst out, “Himura! What are you doing here? I thought you’d still be
in that village I left you in. You can’t have recovered, it’s not even two
weeks yet!”
Himura looked
at him blandly. “I’m fine, I arrived shortly before you did. I was doing
nothing useful there. Besides, we’re short-handed enough as it is.”
The younger
man did still have some road dust on his clothes and skin. He also still looked
rather pale, and Kyosuke knew him well enough to recognize the faint tightness
around his eyes and mouth as signs of pain.
Before he
could say anything else, Kanzaki interrupted, “Kyosuke, go to the dining room
and have something to eat. I’ll get the others.” He left without another look
at Himura.
Still like that.
Kyosuke looked at Himura, but the younger man’s face was blank, the
expressionless mask he wore among others firmly in place.
“Let’s go,”
Himura murmured.
***
Kenshin
walked the familiar path to the dining room. He had been to this place a few
times, accompanying Katsura-san or some of the other Ishin leaders. The room
was half full with a dozen or so men, bodyguards and followers of the visiting
leaders. He recognized less than half of them. The faces changed often, a
roster of men replaced by numerous others. After the first few times, he no
longer searched for the missing people. Most of them would be dead. He knew
that the next time he visited, the faces would change again. It was one reason
he never made any deep relationship with any of them. One among many.
As he and
Kyosuke walked in, faces turned around to scrutinize them with the narrowed,
clinical eyes of men who were trained to miss little. Most recognized Kyosuke
and brightened, calling out to him with warm familiarity. His friend replied
back in kind and was soon engaged in a conversation with a group of men. The
few who recognized Kenshin nodded and murmured subdued greetings. He nodded
back, returning their greetings. None asked him to join them.
Once he had
settled himself in a table near a corner, the whisperings began. He ignored
them as he always did, pretending not to see the covert glances thrown his way.
They would be mortified if they knew he could still hear them, but he did not
need to tell them that.
“Is that...?”
“Battousai?”
“Cross scar and reddish hair,
what do you think?”
“THE hitokiri Battousai?”
“Aa. Stop gawking like an
idiot.”
“But... he’s younger than me!”
“He’s younger than most, don’t speak
so loudly. You think he’s deaf?”
“... thought he’d be bigger.”
“Heh, morons.”
“You know him?”
“Of course. He comes here often,
‘course I know him.”
“You and your big-mouth. He’s
bluffing, didn’t even talk two sentences with him.”
“Is he as good as they say?”
“...”
“Better.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“If you’re lucky enough, or
unlucky enough, you’ll see for yourself.”
Kyosuke took
his place beside Kenshin and nudged him with an elbow, whispering softly,
“They’re talking about you again.”
Kenshin
scowled at his rice bowl, “Ignore them. I do.”
Kyosuke
merely grinned. “By the way, my friends there told me some of the guys that
came over. I think you may want to know that...”
The entrance
was suddenly pushed open hurriedly. The whispered conversations died as heads
once again turned towards the door. A young man in his mid-teens, still with
gangly limbs barely maturing into adulthood, stood panting outside. His wide
expressive eyes, set on a face too young to have even a shadow of stubbles yet,
searched the room until they found Kyosuke and Kenshin. His face brightened
with delight.
“Himura-san!
You’re here!”
Kyosuke
finished in a rather dry tone, “...that Eiji is here.”
Kenshin
swallowed an overwhelming urge to groan and thump his head on the table.
Kawasaki Eiji was one of Kanzaki’s men, one of the newest and youngest. They
had met a few times, went on one mission together. He was a good person, and it
wasn’t that he was not glad the young man was still alive. It was just that...
Eiji rushed
to their table and firmly seated himself beside Kenshin. “Himura-san, I’m so
glad you’re alright. I heard about your duel with Captain Okita Souji of
Shinsengumi. Sugoi! Did you beat him? Ne? Of course you did, Hiiten Mitsurugi
Ryuu is unbeatable. Ne, will you teach me this time? Just one stroke, just
Ryu-tsui-sen is enough. Hontou... Aa, are you alright, Himura-san?”
Kenshin had
closed his eyes in despair. That urge to thump his head was becoming really
strong now. Beside him, Kyosuke was trying his best to hide his amusement and
failing miserably.
He seriously
doubted that he would get any peace on this trip.
***
Back in the
inner room, as soon as the sound of footsteps faded to nothing, Aizawa
Shigenobu turned towards Katsura.
“Yahari,” Aizawa
sighed, “it’s coming to this.”
Katsura
nodded, “I’ve long since warned those back in our han of the dangers. Shinsaku
saw this coming before I did. Him and Sakamoto Ryoma.”
“Who do you
think sold them to the government?”
The younger
man was silent for a moment before replying with a sigh, “Most probably France.
All those news we’ve received - increased weapons imports, relaxed trade
restrictions, preferential treatments… I think we can safely confirm that
France will be strongly supporting Bakufu. All the way.”
He continued
without looking at Aizawa, “Everybody’s taking sides now.”
Aizawa gazed
at the younger man thoughtfully. “Kogoro… what are you trying to say?”
Silence. Then
–
“Have you
decided about what we discussed last week, Aizawa-sensei?”
Aizawa’s face
was a tranquil mask as he lifted his cup of tea and sipped slowly from it. “You
mean… your proposal for alliance with Satsuma-han.”
He shook his
head with a dry smile. “You and Shinsaku dropped that particular news on top of
my head after you’ve already discussed it with Saigo Takamori and Okubo
Toshimitchi. Have I told you how much I did not appreciate that?”
Katsura
actually looked slightly uncomfortable, a rare occurrence that would have left
his men in a state of disbelief.
“Yes, sensei,
and I am sorry about that. But truth be told, that was a very delicate matter,
and the less people involved the better. At the time, we did not even know if
anything would come out of it. And the timing…” he trailed off, looking rather
discomfited.
Aizawa
nodded. “You know that a great lot of people are going to jump all over you if
they catch a whiff of this?”
“I know.”
“They will
not be thinking of the benefits the alliance will bring. They will be thinking of
the massacre of three thousand of our men by Bakufu and Satsuma soldiers in Kinmon
no hen. They will be thinking of Satsuma soldiers leading the Bakufu attack
on our han last year.”
“They will be
thinking of lives lost, pride trampled, and revenge to be taken.”
Katsura met
Aizawa’s eyes. “And if we give in to that, we will be driven and defeated - our
lands and power taken away, restrictions shackled around us to keep us cowed
and manageable.”
Aizawa smiled
at that. “True.”
“The same old
argument, Aizawa-sensei. United we are stronger and a match for Bakufu. Alone
and warring against each other, we have no chance whatsoever. It took me years
to accept that.” Katsura’s tone held a hidden bitterness. “And it was not a
lesson that I accept easily. Or willingly. But fact is fact, and you were the
one who taught me that the way of the world did not change to accommodate a
person’s personal feelings.”
“No matter
how much it galled, that we are not strong enough to do this by ourselves, that
we have to be allied with Satsuma… it
is still the only way that gives us a possibility of victory.”
“You have
given this a lot of thought.” Aizawa sighed heavily before turning towards
Katsura with a weary smile. “I suppose I need to know if you have thought out
the whole chain of consequences this will bring. And if you are prepared to
face it.”
Katsura held
the older leader’s eyes evenly. “I am willing to put my life on the line for
this.”
“And so you
shall, Kogoro. So you shall.” Aizawa shook his head. “My advice to you… keep
that young hitokiri beside you at all times. You never know when the hidden
arrows will start flying. At least you know that that boy will not turn on your
back.”
“Arigatou,
sensei. Then…?”
Aizawa
chuckled softly. “All right… What is done is done. I trust your judgment and
Shinsaku’s – after all, I did watch you two grow to fill your current
positions. And who knows, this alliance is probably the best for all
concerned.”
Katsura smiled slightly. “I am glad. No… I am very relieved, sensei. Your
support will be invaluable to us.”
“Ah yes, you
need me to offset Ieda’s influence, hmm?” Aizawa remarked wryly, sipping his
tea again. “He will not be pleased when he hears this. You can’t keep this
quiet forever, Kogoro.”
Katsura
nodded. “I know. I don’t intend to. I will come out with this in the upcoming
meeting.”
“How far
along is it?”
“It is just a
financial arrangement at the moment, but if it works, then more things can be
done based on this solid foundation.”
“This arrangement…,”
Aizawa peered up at Katsura from half-lidded eyes, “it will not by any means
involve… the British gaijin. Will it?”
Katsura had
been half expecting the question, which was why he was able to keep a bland
expression on his face. “Why do you say that, sensei?”
“Why… oh, a
little bit of hearsay, here and there… maybe just an old man’s overactive
imagination from sleepless nights…” Aizawa’s sharp eyes belied his relaxed
tone. “Or maybe, they’re simply groundless rumors…no?”
Katsura chose
his reply carefully. “I will never do anything that will harm our country. I
believe that my desire to see our people prosper is as strong as anyone, and if
it takes my whole life, I will see that we will be as strong and powerful as
any gaijin country. I will see that we will never have to bow down to foreign
pressures again.”
Aizawa
observed him with shrewd eyes. Katsura had not truly answered the question he
had asked, but it was obvious the younger man was not going to elaborate.
“Maa… I’ll
take your answer. For now.” Aizawa carefully rose to his feet. “I have another
meeting in the inner city, so let’s stop here. We’ll talk again soon, naa? I
trust you will keep me informed of the latest developments from hereon?”
“Of course.”
Just before
leaving, Aizawa turned and said, “Remember my warning about being careful,
Katsura. I’d hate to see one of my most talented kohai falling down before he
accomplishes what he promises.” Aizawa pushed open the sliding door, and one of
the samurai standing guard stood up and left with him.
Leaving
Katsura alone in the room with his thoughts.
***
“Eiji, I’ve
told you before I don’t teach Hiiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, not ever. Stop asking me,
the answer won’t change.”
Eiji’s
youthful face was so downcast that Kenshin could not help feeling guilty. Even
if he was doing the right thing.
Kyosuke
patted Eiji on the back, grinning in commiseration. “Don’t look so down,
Eiji-kun. It’s not the end of the world. I thought you already had a few others
teaching you?”
“Well...yes,
but it’s not the same. Hiiten Mitsurugi Ryuu is the best, even Katsura-san said
so. And Himura-san is the strongest kenkaku among us.” The eyes that Eiji
turned towards Kenshin was positively glowing with hero-worship. Kenshin almost
flinched. He could not understand the boy’s fixation on him at all. All he did
was kill people and saved the boy half by accident. But since then Eiji had
been following him around with those big trusting eyes.
“Maa, maa...even
if he won’t teach the skills, I’m sure Himura wouldn’t mind giving a few
pointers. Ne, Himura?”
Kenshin
glared at Kyosuke who was grinning at him unashamedly. He was sure free with
someone else’s time. He wondered if sparring with Kyosuke had been such a good
idea after all. Ever since he started giving a few advices to Kyosuke, the
older man had been a little too quick to offer other people his help.
Eiji’s
expression had turned ecstatic as he waited for Kenshin’s reply. As the silence
stretched on, he began to wilt.
Why do I feel like I’ve kicked a puppy?
With a sigh,
Kenshin gave up. “All right, show me your moves and I’ll tell you a few
things.” He hurriedly held up his hand before Eiji could misunderstand. “But I
am NOT your teacher, and I’m NOT teaching you Hiiten Mitsurugi.”
“HAI,
Himura-san!” Eiji crowed, “Wait for me please, I’ll get my sword right away.”
“Wait, wait,
wait!” To Kenshin’s surprise, Kyosuke held on to Eiji before the young man
could run off inside. “Not today, Eiji-kun. Tomorrow. Himura just got here
today, he needs to rest for a while.”
“Oh.” Eiji
blinked. “Right.” He turned back towards Kenshin. “Himura-san, why don’t you
have a soak in the hot-spring pool? Do you know they have their own private
spring pool here? Hontou ni sugoi-yo! Aa, I forgot, you’ve been here before
right? You must know. They said it’s got healing properties, I’m sure it’ll
help you relax.”
“Eiji!” A
shout drifted from the back courtyard. A man holding a yari wandered around a
corner and waved to Eiji. “Come on, we’re starting to practice at the hall! Are
you coming?”
“Coming! I’m
fetching my sword!” Eiji shouted back, then grinned at Kenshin and Kyosuke.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Himura-san, Kyosuke-san. It’s a promise.” He
pelted back into the house, running full-speed down one corridor.
Kenshin
stared at the direction Eiji had disappeared to. “Where does he get his energy?
I feel tired just watching him.”
“Is the
Master of Hiiten Mitsurugi Ryuu so easily tired?” Kyosuke teased him, grinning.
“Maybe the master is not as recovered from his injuries as he said.”
Kenshin
muttered, “The Master of Hiiten Mitsurugi Ryuu is currently off drinking sake
somewhere in the mountains. And this
practitioner of Hiiten Mitsurugi Ryuu was never trained to ward off over-eager
student candidates.”
Eiji
re-appeared from the corridor, holding his katana both-handed. He disappeared
around the corner to the house, then popped back around to wave at them,
grinning and shouting like a boy, “Ashita, ne? Himura-san!” Then he was
off.
Kenshin
turned a despairing glance at Kyosuke, “Dear gods... please tell me I was never
like that.”
Kyosuke’s
eyes were dancing with amusement, “Like what?”
Kenshin
struggled for words, “Like... like...”
“You mean bubbly?
Talkative? Happy? Puppy-dog eager?”
Kenshin shook
his head helplessly. “Forget I said anything,” he muttered.
“He’s not
that much younger than you, you know. He’s fifteen.”
Kenshin
stared at the direction Eiji had disappeared to. “Fifteen,” he repeated
wonderingly. It did not feel like a one-year difference. More like ten or
twenty years, perhaps. At fifteen, he had married, loved, lost. At fifteen, his
hands were already stained with more blood than he could ever wash away. Beside
Eiji, he felt old.
With a sigh,
he turned towards the hot spring bathhouse. While he was here, he might as well
took advantage of the fine facilities provided.
“I’m going
for a bath.”
“Eh? Oh, I’ll
take one later, some of the guys invited me to after-dinner sake. Come with
me?”
Kenshin waved
a hand at him as he walked away. “No, have fun.”
***
Notes:
1. Ryuusui no Ugoki = Kenbu = Aoshi's water-flow steps/movements. After reading
the answers to my question, I have a better idea of what it is, but no
recommendation on an appropriate training technique for it ^_^;. So I put this
one in, but if any of you feel it's inappropriate or there's a better one, by
all means write to me, I'll be extremely grateful (always on the hunt for more
authenticity ^^). And since I'm no expert in baby-talk... help with the
Misao-chan part? ^_^;
2. Kinmon no hen - I put this in end of chapter 5, but. July 1864, it was in
the manga and the OVA, when Kyoto burned for 3 days. 3,000 Choshu soldiers
attacked Kyoto for revenge against the slaughter in Ikedaya Inn. Bakufu army,
including Satsuma forces, numbered 80,000 - you can guess the result ^^;;;
3. Age: For clarity, I’m including their ages in August 1865 –
Misao was born on Nov 1863 = almost 2 years old ^-^
Aoshi was born on Jan 1853 = 12 yrs old
But the Japanese and Chinese traditionally add 1 year to their age, so you can do that.
4. And just to avoid confusions - Aizawa Shigenobu is a fictional character
^_^;. Anybody whom I'm not mentioning in the Notes are going to be fictional
unless said otherwise.
5. Japanese words:
- daisuki = like (someone) very much
- ‘to' = and/also
- shoji = the rice-paper panels in Japanese houses that act as walls and doors
- kenkaku = swordsman
- honto ni sugoi-yo = really very incredible
- ashita = tomorrow
6. Kanji for names:
- Hayato - 'haya' = eagle, 'to' = person/man (thanks to Serizawa Kamo-san for
allowing me to use the same name for
Misao's grandpa ^_^)
- Arashi = storm
On to Chapter 8 : Interlude II