“There are no black or
white...just infinite shades of gray.”
-- Eight months ago…
The room was quiet with silence that enfolded the little hut like a
shroud. A woman lay in repose in the middle, beautiful face too pale, too
still. Nonetheless, there was a gentle tranquility on the delicate face.
The youth who knelt beside her was a study in
contrast. The limbs were loose yet there was a core of contained tension in his
body. Resigned acceptance. As if he was holding himself together with effort.
Not his body, but his mind.
His heart.
The man stood inside the hut, watching. Regret was a punishment that
ground like the weigh of a mountain and he, for one, was painfully aware of its
taste.
I’m sorry.
The words floated in the still air, sound without substance. Mere words…
too inadequate and infinitely insufficient for the hope of redemption it
pleaded for.
The man looked on, seeing what the youth could not, not yet ready to
see. There, in the peacefulness of the body, in that slightest of curve of the
silken lips. She would have given him what he sought for if she could.
Forgiveness, yes - but redemption was not hers to give. It belonged to a far
more demanding taskmaster than she could ever be.
They always did say that you are your own hardest judge.
I asked you once to be
my sword. Will you now be my shield? Our shield.
…
I will come
with you to Kyoto. But for now…
The man understood. As he left, he gave one last look around. The youth
had touched a gentle fingertip lightly to the woman’s rouged lips. A good-bye.
Be our shield. Protect us – and maybe one day, you will find it in you
to forgive yourself.
**
Kenshin sat motionless at one corner of the room, his katana
leaning against one shoulder. From here, he could see almost all of the men
sitting in the room, including their ‘retainers’. Especially the retainers. Not
all of them were bodyguards, but enough of them were. Their eyes assessed him
as he did them, judging, weighing. Some were obviously edgy, a few of them good
enough to show nothing but bored disinterest on their face. Those were the ones
he watched out for.
His own eyes were lowered and he
made no motion to draw attention to himself. No one noticed him like that. But
he listened attentively to everything being said. From time to time, his sharp
gaze - at odd with his disinterested posture - would flick up to fix on one
speaker or another. Those eyes missed little, observing the gestures, the
unconscious body language, extricating the less obvious implications. His mind
recorded everything being said and even more things left unsaid. Read between
the lines, Katsura-san had told him once. It did not sound so different from
his shishou’s teaching of Hiiten Mitsurugi Ryuu. Read the body, know the
intention.
Read their mind.
He was just a guard, albeit a very
good one. They did not expect him to know, or understand what was going on. But
he understood. More than they think.
And right now, too much was going
on too fast.
Bang!
“Are you telling us to throw our
pride and cower before those damn gaijins?! KATSURA!!”
Ieda Yasuhiro had slammed his fist
down on the tatami floor before him, a deafening sound that silenced the
chaotic arguments among the rest of the men in the room. All of them turned
towards the older man, and the younger leader whom he had accused. The tension
in the room was thick enough to cut with a blade.
Katsura Kogoro folded his hands
before his chest, the heated gleam in his eyes belying his usual cool mask.
“I did not say that, Ieda-san. Sonno
Joi – that is the banner that all of us Ishin Shishi gather under. That
will never change, be reasonable!”
“All I’m saying is that we cannot
afford to attract more animosity from the gaijins at this time. France by
itself is bad enough, but if we give England and the other countries reason to
unite against us again...we don’t have the power to go against all of them.”
“Which is why, now more than ever,
we need to ally ourselves with Satsuma-han.”
Outraged voices raised in
protests. One of the man behind Ieda shouted out, “You’re telling us to sell
ourselves out to those murdering bastards! How can you betray all those who’d
died in their hands?!”
Katsura turned glittering eyes at
the man who had spoken. “Betray? I would say that I will be a true traitor if I
let past mistakes and old grudges condemn our people into ruin. I will say this
now – by ourselves, we have no chance of success.”
An outroar followed that blatant
statement. For a while, cries were raised in outraged denials, and vehement
floor-pounding drowned out individual voices of reason. The already tense
meeting threatened to degenerate into chaos.
“SILENCE!” A deep voice thundered
over the pandemonium. Some of the voices stuttered into shocked hush. Akiyama
Shinobu swept a frosty glare across the room, his straight-backed dignity
conveying his offense at the uncivilized behaviour.
“We will *not*,” he announced
deliberately, “sink down into petty fighting. We are not common street thugs
who do not know better ways. Everyone will have their chance to voice their
opinions. One at a time.” He inclined his head towards Katsura.
Kenshin allowed his own fists to
unclench. A quick discreet sweep around the room showed the rest of the guards
doing the same. None of them truly wanted a fight, but with the level of
tension the meetings took these days, it was a distinct possibility.
Katsura gave a little grateful nod
to Akiyama. “Thank you. As I was saying,” he raised his voice, addressing the
rest of the crowd in the room, “yes, Satsuma has been our rival for centuries.
Yes, they had killed our people in the past, but so had we killed their
men. This is not the time for us to be bogged down by the past.”
“Even as we hesitate and argue,
Bakufu is busy securing alliances. We now know for a fact that the French
gaijin had given their full support to the Shogun. My sources had informed me
that the new rifle shipments had started to come in heavy quantities. And
though it hasn’t been confirmed yet, I strongly suspect that the French is
going to send some of their navy frigates to here.”
That raised another furor, though
the voices raised in denials were tinged with an undertone of dread. Some of
the people present had first-hand experience of the bombardment British navy
had inflicted on Kagoshima. It was not something that could be easily
forgotten, or dismissed lightly.
“How can we trust those who’d turn
against us in the past?” Someone demanded. “They allied themselves with Seifu
against us in Kyoto, why should they support us now?”
“The balance of power in Satsuma
had changed.” Katsura spoke to the crowd, but his eyes held those of Aizawa
Shigenobu who sat opposite him, an island of quiet in the room. “Those in favor
of supporting Bakufu has lost their power, and the younger rank of leaders are
in support of replacing our weak government. The time is right - there is no
better opportunity than right now. We have to act before Bakufu realizes what
we are up to.”
“Once our two strongest Han are
united, the other provinces will see our strength and join us. Tosa-Han has
already indicated that they would be willing to ally themselves with us. Tosa
had many loyalists who had been forced to remain quiet in the past because they
were not strong enough. But that is about to change.”
Ieda leaned forward, bracing on
his fist, “And I suppose you heard this from your ‘friend’, eh, Katsura? This…
Sakamoto Ryoma?” He craned his neck and hollered at the crowd. “Sakamoto Ryoma
does not even have proper government rank. He does not have the capacity to
speak for the Tosa government. Why should we trust what he said? And why isn’t
he here with us – is he too afraid to show his face?
“He is on the way here,” Katsura
replied. “He should be here within the next few days. We will see then if he
had the authority to speak on behalf of Tosa Shishi,” Katsura’s tone left no
doubt of what he believed. “But before that, we will need to determine our own
position. This is not the first time that the idea of an alliance had been
brought up, but this is perhaps the most critical time when it would give the
most critical advantage.”
“Why should we believe what you
said?” The speaker was Akatsuki Toyo, a young middle-rank samurai with modest
followers. He was widely known as Ieda’s man, voicing Ieda’s opinions and often
undertaking actions that the senior samurai with his higher position could not
do.
“You gave us unconfirmed news and
expect us to believe you. And you raise this alliance issue at such a
convenient time, isn’t it?” He sneered, contempt on his face. “How do we know
that this isn’t just a ploy to get us to do what you want?”
“And just what is it,” Katsura’s
voice was deceptively soft, “that I want?” Those who understood the young
leader better knew that the angrier he became, the softer he would spoke.
Akiyama looked on with narrowed eyes, while Ieda wore a strange half smirk as
he observed his rival closely.
Akatsuki continued with the blithe
confidence born of either true bravery, or dense stupidity. “You and Takasugi
Shinsaku were the ones who met up with that…man ,when he came to attack
Kagoshima. Behind our back and against our wishes…” He raised his voice against
the growing angry mutters from Katsura’s men. “You’ve been pushing for this
alliance since then. What does Saigo Takamori promised you? High position?
Wealth? Who can guarantee that you’re not using this to further your own
ambitions…!”
Loud shouts and insults erupted at
that blatant challenge, some of Katsura’s followers were about to launch
themselves at Ieda’s men.
“Yamero!!”
Katsura’s men stopped at that
harsh order from their leader. Katsura ignored Akatsuki, instead sweeping his
gaze over the room. “I am aware that some of you suspect that of me, and I can
understand that. Words will do nothing to allay that suspicions, therefore I
will simply let my actions speak for myself. Time will tell if I act simply for
my own cause, or for what I believe is the best for our country. And let us not
forget that – because no matter what Han we owe our loyalty to, in the
end, all of us are above all people of this country.”
“However,” he added, eyes steely,
“while difference in opinions are acceptable, a man should at least have the
courage to openly air his own belief. Borrowing a kohai’s words to voice your words… hiding behind other people’s
back and letting them do your work is not a proper action for a true Shishi.”
This time, the uproar was
definitely uglier. Kenshin cursed inside and half-raised himself to a kneel,
eyes darting to assess possible points of attacks. Did Katsura-san have to be so open about it? He had all but point
an accusing finger at Ieda’s face, and the veiled insult was heavy enough to
ignite violence.
“ENOUGH!” Akiyama roared, cutting
sharply through the commotion. His glare quelled even the most hot-headed of
the youngsters in the room. “Since most of you do not seem to be able to
control your own tempers this evening, I am calling an early break. We will
meet back again after dinner, and by that time, I hope all of us will be more level-headed.”
He glowered at everybody in the
room, daring them to contradict him. Katsura was not spared his piercing gaze,
and the younger man bowed slightly, standing up to exit the room. Kenshin
hurriedly slipped away and padded after Katsura Kogoro.
Outside, he saw the other man gave
a curt wave to stop his guards waiting outside from following him. He hesitated
for a moment, then steeled himself and followed anyway. If Katsura-san did not
want him along, he would be told so. Until then, it was simply too dangerous
for him to move around all by himself.
Katsura moved at a clipped pace
and he only caught up with him outside the compound. The other man gave him a
sidelong glance but said nothing. Kenshin shadowed him silently, following him
up the small hill behind the mansion until they reached the top. From there,
they could see down the mansion compound and all across the wide expanse of
forested hills.
“You’ve been attending these
meetings for about half a year now,” Katsura suddenly said without looking over
his shoulder. “What do you think?”
Kenshin glanced aside at the older
man. Katsura had a habit of talking to him whenever they were alone, and the
Ishin Shishi leader seemed to expect Kenshin to answer the difficult questions
that stumped even him. Kenshin had no illusions that he could help him with the
heavy burdens of leadership, his expertise was somewhere else. But if the
conversations helped him to think things through, then he did not mind being a
bouncing board.
“I think… everybody’s getting more
impatient. Every meeting, the feel of pressure kept increasing.” He stopped,
wondering whether he should say it, then decided that Katsura probably already
knew of it. “More people are growing dissatisfied…against you. It’s getting
dangerous, Katsura-san.”
Katsura gave a cynical snort.
“Yes, I know. Some of them probably dreamt of getting rid of me every night.
Well, if they can do a better job at this, I might just let them.”
“Katsura-san!”
A weary half-laugh answered him.
“I’m sorry, that was my pessimist side talking. Just ignore me, Shinsaku always
said I get more cynical when I’m tired.”
“How is… Takasugi-san?” Kenshin
asked hesitantly. He only knew the leader of Kiheitai for a few days, but the
man gave him a strong impression. He reminded him of a barely banked fire, a
curious mixture of boundless energy controlled and focused into lethal
actions.
“Still alive,” Katsura said
starkly, “he’s chafing at the restrictions even more than I do. He had less
time to waste than these people.” The unspoken words hang heavily in the air.
Takasugi Shinsaku suffered from Tuberculosis, an incurable illness that could
take his life in the next one or two years.
“I remembered when we decided to
go down this road together,” Katsura said suddenly. “Only five years ago, yet
it felt like such a long time. We called it ‘riding the tiger’.” He smiled at
Kenshin’s look of confusion. “It was from an old story. A man encountered a
tiger and was forced to run for his life. But he could not outrun the tiger,
and there was no place for him to hide. In the end, he realized there was only
one safe place for him.”
“Ah, on top of the tiger’s back,”
Kenshin caught on quickly.
Katsura nodded. “Yes, he somehow
managed to climb on top of the tiger’s back. Now the tiger could not reach him
and the man was safe. But he soon discovered that he could not get down at all,
because then tiger would get him. He was forced to stay on the tiger’s back
indefinitely, and neither the man nor the beast was able to escape from the
status quo.”
Kenshin frowned as he mulled over
the story. “But then the man wasn’t truly safe. And it’s only a matter of time
before he falls from hunger or exhaustion.”
Katsura smiled, a dark glint in
his eyes. “Yes. Well then, he will just have to hang on longer than the tiger
could stand, wouldn’t he?”
Kenshin opened his mouth to say
that that was impossible, then closed it slowly as the realization of what
Katsura truly meant sank in.
“We’ve been riding the tiger for
several years now,” Katsura stared off at the horizon, where the sprawling mass
of Kyoto covered the lower lands. Dusk was coming, and from the distance, the
high towers of the Shogun’s place, and the Emperor’s palace could be seen sharp
against the reddish sky.
“At first it was just a few of us,
but now… I can’t really say when the point of no return was reached by both
sides. Perhaps after Kinmon no hen, or even the Ikedaya Inn massacre that lead
to it. Maybe even earlier than that, when Bakufu allowed Shimonoseki to be
decimated by the Allied navy. But what I am certain of is that Choshu will burn
before we will bow down to Tokugawa dynasty ever again.”
Kenshin looked away from the older
man’s grim face, feeling a chill inside him at the absolute certainty in
Katsura’s voice. Even though the different factions inside Choshu Ishin Shishi
fought over the actions they should take, but that one sentiment was echoed by
all of them.
He gave Kenshin a grim smile. “I
told you once that we are fighting for a better world. But most people are in
this for far less noble motives. Too many see only opportunities to be reaped
during the time of chaos – it doesn’t matter to them who win as long as they
come out on top. And even though I’d like to think otherwise, there are just as
many of this kind of people among the Shishi as anywhere else.”
Katsura’s voice dropped to almost
a whisper, sounding almost as if he had forgotten Kenshin was there.
“Sometimes… I wonder. Is there
enough of us to make a difference? There are so many things where you can go
wrong, so many temptations to corrupt… All of us in that meeting – we are
supposed to lead, but I can’t even say if each of us will put the greater good
before other personal benefits.”
“Why are you telling me this,
Katsura-san?” A hint of desperation crept into Kenshin’s voice despite his best
efforts.
Katsura had a strange look in his
eyes as he looked at Kenshin. He seemed to hesitate over something, but then
the reverberating sound of the watch came from the main building. It was time
to go back.
Katsura shook his head. “Maybe
I’ll tell you some other time.” He started back and switched the subject suddenly. “By the way, Arai-sensei is in
Kyoto for the next few days. Do you want him to have a look at your katana?”
Kenshin looked at him in surprise.
He had heard of Arai Shakku of course. The man was well-known as Choshu Ishin
Shishi’s famous and best katanakaji. Not someone whose services would be
easy to appropriate, and not someone of his caliber. His would be swords that
were wielded by finest samurais, nobles, and other important personages.
“It’s alright, Katsura-san, I
really don’t need to. My sword is just fine.”
Katsura motioned towards Kenshin’s
swords. “I’ve always meant to let him make you a matching set of daisho. The
wakizashi that I gave you two years ago was only meant to be a temporary thing,
since you don’t have one at the time.”
“Hai... do
you wish it back, Katsura-san? I really only need a katana, it’s enough.” The
wakizashi had been Katsura’s. Two years ago, Katsura had looked at the lone
katana the youth had brought with him, and promptly handed him a wakizashi to
match, saying that from now on Kenshin would need it more than he would.
Katsura laughed softly, “No, no...
what kind of a kenkaku would you be without one pair of daisho? I wasn’t
going to ask for it back. But Arai-sensei is the best sword-maker I’ve ever
seen, and he doesn’t come around often. I’ve mentioned you to him before. If
you have the time, it’ll be a good thing to go meet him and let him have a look.
Even if you don’t need any blades at the moment, who knows what could happen in
the future?”
“Hai…” Kenshin agreed hesitantly.
“Just one bit of advice though,”
Katsura was smiling rather ruefully, but his eyes seemed to be filled with some
kind of hidden mirth, “Arai-sensei has a bit of a... quirky temperament...
shall we say? He isn’t exactly the most amiable person around - just be patient
and try not to... annoy him too much.”
That did not sound too reassuring.
Kenshin was pondering if a pair of slightly better blades were really worth the
hassle indicated when they finally returned to the mansion.
The moment they stepped into the
compound, he noticed that something was wrong. Disturbed murmurs filled the air
and all the people were crowded around the entrance to the main room, their
gazes drawn inside. Katsura stepped up his pace and Kenshin followed, warily
assessing the mood of the crowd.
One of the men looked back on
hearing their approach. Eiji, his youthful face transparent with anxiety and
apprehension. He brightened on seeing Kenshin.
“Himura-san! Come and see, a
messenger just arrived. Heavens, he’s badly wounded, they didn’t think he’s
going to make it…” he trailed off with wide eyes as he finally saw Katsura
Kogoro beside Kenshin. Kanzaki appeared from the other side of the crowd and
whacked Eiji smartly on the head. “Go on,” he said roughly, directing his words
to the rest of the crowd too, “don’t stand here gawking like a bunch of
fishwives. Get in or get out. And make some way here!”
As Kenshin edged past the opening
with Katsura, his eyes took in the brightly lit-up room. Akiyama Shinobu and
Ieda were already seated further off, watching intently. A man in bloodied and
tattered clothing laid on the middle of the room, a cluster of physicians
busily tending to him. A lot of extra lanterns were concentrated around them,
helping the physicians. The man’s breathing was shallow and uneven, his face
waxy and beaded with perspiration. But on closer look, the wounds he suffered
seemed to be shallow ones, not enough to be responsible for the severity of his
symptoms.
One of the physicians suddenly
looked up and gave a despairing shake of his head. “It’s no use. He’s been
poisoned, and the poison has taken too strong a hold in his body. It’s some
kind of enhanced variation of the mandara
poison, our antidote isn’t going to work in time.”
Another murmur aroused from those
words. Kenshin looked back at the messenger, seeing the bluish tint of the lips
and feeling a sudden wrench of pity. The man was already dead, it was just a
matter of time.
The messenger suddenly opened his
eyes, his fever-bright gaze wandering around the room, suddenly latching on to
Katsura Kogoro.
“Katsura…san,” he whispered
brokenly, his voice hoarse and thin. “Katsura-san.”
Katsura hurried to kneel to his
side. “Shimada… Shimada-san, right? You’re travelling with Sakamoto-san, aren’t
you?”
“Katsura-san,” Shimada raised up a
hand weakly, to be grasped by Katsura. “Please… save them. We were… ambushed.
Tokiyama crossroad… they took them… I don’t know where… please…”
The reaction was electric. Akiyama
and Ieda exchanged a look
“Who?” Katsura pressed, tightening
his grip on the failing hand. “Who took them, Shimada-san?”
Shimada opened his mouth, but a
sudden convulsion shook his body, and he started coughing, blood trickling down
one side of his mouth. The physicians hurried over to hold the thrashing body
down. Shimada cried out once, body arched taut like a bow. A deep, rattling
breath shuddered out of him, then he was still.
Katsura gently lowered the limp
hand and passed his fingers over Shimada’s eyes, closing the still staring
eyes. He raised his head to look over the hushed crowd, then addressed Akiyama
and Ieda in a flat voice. “Let’s adjourned to the meeting room. We’ll talk
there.”
As Katsura walked out of the room,
leaving the cooling body behind, his gaze flicked up imperceptibly to the
ceiling, past the slightest crack between the panels, and meeting a pair of
cool gray eyes hidden in the dark. An unspoken command was passed across, and
the hidden person nodded once in affirmation.
**
The study room was dimly lit by
only a single candle. Katsura Kogoro was seated behind a low table, a book
spread open in front of him. A person dressed in black omnitsu gear was seated
casually in front of him. Theface cloth was loose around the shoulders,
revealing the face. It was the omnitsu Kenshin knew as Arashi.
“There was an ex-military quarter
at Fushimi,” he was saying, “about five miles away from the place where
Sakamoto Ryoma and his company was ambushed. It had been converted into a
merchant house, but the night watch I questioned saw soldiers entering the
place three nights ago some time before dawn. They brought prisoners with them,
not many, just three or four.”
“Soldiers. So it was Bakufu who
ambushed them?”
“It seemed so. One of the
prisoners matched the description of Sakamoto, but to be sure, I had a closer
look inside. I didn’t see him, but I saw one of his friends being led out of a
storage shed at the back.”
Katsura nodded, studying Arashi’s
pensive face. “Is something wrong?”
“…iya. But, something about this whole thing feels… off, somehow. I
feel as if we’re only seeing the surface intention of it, like there should
something more.”
“Based on what?”
A sigh. “Little things, here and
there. Nothing definite, not so much what they did as what they didn’t do. If they captured Sakamoto
Ryoma now, when they’ve ignored him up until now, it must mean that something
crucial has changed… or that they’ve come across enough information and
evidence to hang us. But if they did, then why not follow up on things? Simply
capturing him isn’t going to do them much good, and besides, it will alert us
prematurely. If they’d attacked us on several different fronts all at once, we
wouldn’t have any warning at all, and our losses would have been much
greater.”
“Of course, there are a lot of
possible reasons. As I said, I don’t have any basis, it’s more of a gut
feeling.”
“I trust your feelings. If you think
we’re missing parts of the picture, do whatever you need to investigate it. The
rescue part will be handled by others.”
“Your little pet dragon?”
Katsura smiled ruefully. “Don’t
call him that. He wouldn’t appreciate it.”
Arashi gave a soft hmph. “He has
little sense of humor.”
“He does, though the few times
that I’ve seen it, it’s rather… cutting. Kind of like a certain person I know.”
“…are you trying to hint at
something?”
“Now, would I do that?” The older
man’s smile was all serene innocence.
“… All right. I won’t pick on him
until I’ve known him better. Satisfied?”
“Note that I didn’t say anything.”
“Really,” Arashi drawled. “Your
silence said more than most men’s prattling. But he’d better be as good as you
said he is.”
Katsura smiled briefly, then
abruptly asked. “When will Okubo Toshimitchi reach Kyoto?”
“From my contact, in another
week’s time. We always keep track of his progress.”
Katsura nodded, brows pursed
thoughtfully. “And Saigo Takamori?”
“Him? Not a move. He’s still in Kagoshima,
and I know he was there when Okubo got your letter. I think it’s safe to assume
only Okubo is coming.” One of Arashi’s eyebrows quirked as he continued dryly,
“Maybe they’re just trying to make sure that if we betrayed them, we won’t get
the both of them all at once.”
“Pessimist,” Katsura murmured.
“Realist,” Arashi retorted, which
earned a rueful chuckle from Kogoro.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get Sakamoto
here in time to see him.” Arashi unfolded to his feet in one graceful move. “I
assume the rescue attempt will be soon?” On Katsura’s nod, Arashi continued,
“Right. I’ll see if I can find any puppet-master in the background. While I’m
gone, try not to antagonize somebody into sending assassins after you, will
you?”
Katsura watched Arashi slid the
door open soundlessly. “Arashi.”
Arashi looked back and raised an
eyebrow in question.
“I’m sorry that you still have to
operate in the dark. I know I promised you something different…”
“Katsura.” Arashi interrupted
gently, the usual barb gone from his tone. “I understand. It’s all right. In
any case, my kind works better in secrecy.” He smiled. “You can make good on
your promise when this is all over.”
A gust of wind blew in through the
open door and the candle stuttered, casting wild shadows across the room. When
the light steadied, the door was empty.
CONTINUE CHAPTER 10