The characters in this
tale belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki.
This events in this tale follow those in The Journey Begins, Give
and Take and Question and Answer. The tale continues somewhat in
A Tale of Sanosuke: Niigata. Many thanks for all the constructive
feedback!
This story is dedicated to Aredhel
The
Answer
By Daniel Lam
THE caretaker and his friend looked up from their game of chess at
the visitors. It was mid-afternoon - not a popular time for visitors -
but then, there are those who do drop by at the oddest of hours.
He was never really good with faces, but he remembered that man. Always
with a smile on his face, as if without a care in the world. Most of
those who visit the cemetery bore sad faces. Not this one.
"Good afternoon, kind sirs," the man greeted them. "We're
here for a visit."
Both caretaker and friend returned the greeting, and the visitors
entered the grounds.
"Cheerful man," the friend remarked.
"Yes ... so unusual nowadays, what with the uncertainty and
all," the caretaker agreed.
"At least there is peace," the friend said. "Not too many
few years ago, these streets were covered in blood, I tell you!"
"Yes, I know," the caretaker responded hurriedly. "I was
here with you, remember? Dangerous times, then."
"Yes. Did you hear about the latest murders? Just outside of the
city?" the friend persisted. "Horrible ... just like in the
old days."
"Pay attention to the game! Don't try to distract me like
that!" the caretaker barked.
"Fine, fine! It's my move anyway, right? Here!"
@@@@@
Seta Soujirou rapped on the inn's double doors for a good five minutes
before his keen sense of hearing picked up the sound of movement from
within. The door opened slightly and an unfriendly face peered through.
"We're full up. Go away."
This near to Kyoto, the imperial capital of the country, Soujirou was in
no mood to sleep outdoors. Too many ... distractions. Even so, the broad
smile never left his face.
"Just for the night, good sir," Soujirou pleaded. "Even a
hammock will do."
The doorman regarded the youth's face for a while, then sighed.
"Wait here ... I'll see what I can do."
Soujirou bowed. "Thank you, kind sir!"
"Hmmmph!"
Moments later Soujirou found himself in what could at best be described
as a servant's quarters, but seemed more like a storeroom that happened
to have a hammock. He had little to complain about, really. In the past
five years, he had slept in worse places.
It's just for the night, Soujirou thought. Tomorrow I will
accomplish what I came to Kyoto to do.
He sensed someone approaching. It was the doorman, who brought a
blanket.
"You might hear weird sounds later in the night," the doorman
said. "Just ignore them." He sounded less gruff than he was
earlier.
Soujirou did not know what to make of this, so he merely nodded. He took
the blanket, thanking the doorman profusely.
The doorman seemed satisfied with this, and took his leave, closing the
door after him. Soujirou blew out the candle and got ready to retire for
the night.
As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, Soujirou's thoughts strayed
to the events that had taken place recently.
Just two weeks ago, Soujirou had succeeded in getting former Ishin
Shishi master assassin Himura Kenshin to destroy Shishio Makoto's sword.
It was a symbolic act allowing Soujirou to bury his past and move on
with life, searching for the purpose of life itself.
The Mugenjin - the Killing Sword - the lifeless shards of which were in
Soujirou's pack, alongside his own katana. He had taken care to wrap
both in his spare clothes just before he came to this village on the
outskirts of Kyoto. With the sword ban still in force, Soujirou was
eager to avoid a confrontation with the authorities.
Not that he was afraid of them ... but he'd rather not be the subject of
unnecessary attention.
Suddenly, he heard the first sounds. He could make out a man's voice,
yelling at another.
Must be a regular thing, if the doorman felt it necessary to warn me
about it, Soujirou thought.
There was the sound of someone hitting the ground, followed by what was
unmistakably a whimper.
Soujirou sat up immediately. It was the whimper of a girl.
Soujirou went to the door and opened it slightly. He could barely see
anything, but now he could hear better. There were at least two men with
the girl. It sounded as if they were beating her.
He went to his pack and took out his katana. He left the broken Mugenjin
untouched.
Then he opened the door a little wider and stepped out gingerly.
By the well in the courtyard was the girl, perhaps eight or nine years
old. Two men, wielding wooden swords, stood on either side of her. A
third man was crouching.
As Soujirou watched in horror, the third man cuffed her in the face a
few more times. The sound of an open hand striking flesh was jarring
indeed.
It reminded him of his days as a foster child with an abusive family.
"Next time I tell you to do something, you do it at once, you
hear?" the man was yelling.
The girl seemed to nod. Soujirou waited in the darkness with baited
breath, unsure as to what to do. His instincts told him to wait and see.
When the girl made to rise, the man slapped her one more time so hard
that the sound made Soujirou cringe. The other men then struck the girl
on the hands with their bokken.
Soujirou felt anger rising. He had been beaten like that before. A long,
long time ago ... when he was a helpless child, like her.
He was not about to let the men hit her again.
Slowly, deliberately, he took several steps towards them. Both the men
who were beating the girl stopped and turned to face him.
That they could sense his approach was evident. These were not ordinary
thugs.
"Boss," one of the men muttered. The third man looked up. He
rose, pulling the girl to her feet.
"Who are you?" the third man demanded, his eyes on Soujirou's
katana. "You are in violation of the sword ban."
When Soujirou did not respond, the two men adopted combat stances.
"Let her go," Soujirou said as he stopped within five feet of
them.
The man holding the girl shook her roughly and demanded: "Do you
want to go?"
To Soujirou's surprise, the girl shook her head. The man turned to him
and sneered. "She knows her place."
"Look away," one of the bokken-wielding men said. "This
does not involve you."
"Little miss ... you would stay with these men?" Soujirou
asked, addressing the girl.
The girl nodded weakly. With a sigh, Soujirou bowed to the men.
"My apologies ... I shall leave you to your ... business."
Soujirou was not smiling as he turned to go.
The sounds of beatings resumed soon after. Soujirou hardly slept a wink
that night.
@@@@@
He got up just as the rooster began to crow. He had gotten very little
sleep, for what he saw in the night reawakened his old nightmares.
Nightmares of him as a child, being bullied by his foster family, of him
slaying his tormentors.
In the courtyard, by the well, was the girl, this time wearing a kimono,
drawing water. Beside her were two huge pails.
She jumped when Soujirou came to her side, but she made no sound.
She must be used to being startled, Soujirou thought.
Her long sleeves concealed her limbs. Even so, when she stretched to
draw water, Soujirou noted the bruises on her arms. A number were
obviously old. Last night was not the first time she had been beaten.
When Soujirou made no move to do anything, the girl drew a bucketful of
water and laid it at his feet.
"For me?" Soujirou asked, a little surprised. "Thank you,
little miss." He splashed his face with the water. It felt good.
When he was done, he drew a bucketful and presented it to her. She took
it.
Soujirou waited a little while longer before his curiosity got the
better of him. She was already turning to go, the two pails filled up.
"What is your name, little miss?" he asked. "My name is
Soujirou."
The girl stopped.
"Yuki," she whispered a while later, blushing, and gave him a
hint of a smile before running off.
It was nothing much, but her smile brought a pleasant warmth to his
heart.
It is not a smile brought on as a defence ... but a genuine smile,
he thought as he watched her run into the kitchen. He waited for her to
return. When she did not, he went to the common eating hall.
Breakfast was a simple affair and quickly dispensed with. His mind was
not on the food, in any case. Throughout the morning he could see Yuki
making regular trips across the courtyard, either to fetch more water or
to get something, usually far too big for her size, from the storeroom.
Soujirou made some discrete enquiries, and found out that Yuki was a
slave, bought by the innkeeper's family when still little more than an
infant, to help with the running of the inn.
I didn't know that this close to the city such things are still
practiced, he thought grimly, though the smile never left his face.
The man who was manhandling the girl was the innkeeper's only son, a
former Ishin Shishi soldier, now a drunkard who was never awake before
evening. As for the other two men, no one seemed to know.
No wonder she took her treatment willingly, Soujirou thought. Just
as I did all those years ago. I didn't know any better....
He felt the need to stay on for a few more days at least, and so
took up a newly-vacated room in the inn. Alone in his room, Soujirou
began to think.
One of the things he had learnt in his wanderings was that the answer to
problems did not necessarily lie in the path of violence.
However, the strong live, the weak die. Those words, and that this
is a world where the strong feed on the flesh of the weak, served as
the foundation for Shishio's very being.
Though it should not be the case, Soujirou had seen enough, experienced
enough, to know that in reality, Shishio's truths were at least mostly
right.
Despite an era of peace brought upon by the Meiji government, the
strong continue to prey on the weak. And the weak can only keep their
heads low and endure the indignity, he thought.
Just like me to be faced with this ... just when I thought I had
succeeded in laying Master Shishio to rest, Soujirou mused.
"I cannot save her ... she must do so herself," he muttered a
short while later. "But if she is weak ... she will need help. How
can I help her, aside from using force?" How can I help if she
does not wish to be helped?
He left the inn feeling thoroughly depressed but determined to
settle his business in Kyoto as soon as possible. It was still late
morning, so if he hurried, he could make it back by nightfall.
It was late afternoon when he got to the cemetery. It had been over five
years since his last visit, when he arranged for the burial of what
remains could be found of Shishio and Komagata Yumi. Because their ashes
were mixed, they now shared a common grave.
The cemetery's caretaker sat up as Soujirou stepped past the main gate.
Visitors were few this time of day.
"Good afternoon, kind sir," Soujirou said with a smile.
"I am here for a visit."
The caretaker nodded. It was not his place to stop anyone from visiting,
but to keep the place clean. It had been a boring morning, too. Even
so....
"Wait," he called after Soujirou. "You here to pay your
respects to someone?"
Soujirou nodded.
"Ahhh. But there is someone else already here ... and he prefers to
be alone."
"That's fine, kind sir. I won't bother him," Soujirou said.
"Well, this man tends to bother others," the caretaker
explained. "Just thought you should know."
Soujirou bowed. "Thank you for letting me know, kind sir. I'll keep
that in mind."
The young man knew where to go. Soujirou sensed the presence of the
other man - the one whom the caretaker must have been trying to tell him
about - just before he saw him.
He was taller than Soujirou, and wore what must have once been fine
clothing - of Chinese design it looked, complete with the straight
collar - now thoroughly worn out. But what struck Soujirou most was the
man's hair.
Although he did not look to be very old, his hair was snow-white. And he
wore eye-glasses, which would have made the man look scholarly if not
for the lean frame.
And his aura ... an almost overwhelming bitterness ... or sadness,
Soujirou thought. Almost like Mr Himura's...?
The man was kneeling when Soujirou neared Shishio and Yumi's grave;
he stood up as Soujirou stopped at the foot of the marker.
Soujirou did not sense any malice from the man as he approached. The
closer the man came, the stronger Soujirou felt the man's aura.
He immediately realised why the caretaker had said that this man
bothered others. His aura would have an unnerving effect on people.
Normal people would have been ... afraid.
"You were ... Shishio's right-hand man," the man stated.
"Shishio Makoto's assistant."
Soujirou turned. "Yes ... I was." Then, with a smile: "My
apologies, but I do not remember you."
The man bowed. "I have seen you ... from the shadows. It was many
years ago." He adjusted his glasses. "Six years ago."
Soujirou frowned. He had no wish to discuss his past, at least not with
someone he knew nothing about. Even so, he did not feel threatened. But
there was something he needed to do first.
"Please excuse me for a moment, kind sir," he said finally.
The man nodded and stepped back. Soujirou knelt and bowed to the grave,
whispering under his breath as he did so.
When he was done, the white-haired man was still waiting for him.
"Thank you, kind sir, for waiting. I was in a hurry,
actually," Soujirou explained. He glanced at Shishio and Yumi's
grave. "I had hoped for an answer ... but none were
forthcoming."
"An answer?"
"Yes. But it is too much to ask, perhaps," Soujirou said with
a smile. "I'll have to find it myself."
The man nodded. There was a moment of silence before he stated: "I
too, seek answers. I have found some of them ... others continue to
elude me." Then a grin graced his boyish-looking face. "I
forget my manners ... I know your name, but you do not know mine."
Soujirou shook his head. His tone was serious even if the smile never
left his face: "If you do not wish to tell, I have no wish to know.
Some secrets should remain hidden."
The man regarded him for a long time. This made Soujirou uncomfortable.
He looked up at the sky. "It is late. I must go."
"A smile is what I seek," the man said finally. "Perhaps
it is in a smile that your answer lies."
"A smile?" Soujirou repeated, confused.
"No, not from you. From someone I lost, long ago." The man
turned to go. Soujirou pondered this last remark before turning his
attention to the grave. When he finally left, the Mugenjin was in its
proper place, beside its true owner.
@@@@@
By the time he got back to the inn, it was time for dinner. Again, his
thoughts were elsewhere. He ate very little, and retired to his room
while the other diners were still calling for more sake.
A smile, he said. Soujirou recalled. All my life I had lived
by Master Shishio's truth. Then came Mr Himura, who lives still, to
protect the weak.
This is a world where the strong prey on the weak. That means Master
Shishio is right. But there are those who live to protect ... to help
the weak, which means Mr Himura is right, too.
He remembered Yuki's smile. It was not much ... but it made him feel
warm inside.
Perhaps ... perhaps it is because she suffers what I had suffered, he
thought. Her smile means more to me, then, than those of others.
But is it ever so simple? Just a smile? he wondered. I smiled
too, through the pain, through the torment ... even after feeling
nothing from taking lives....
He shivered suddenly. He had forgotten to close the window shutters.
As he moved to close them, Soujirou heard sounds from the courtyard. He
hadn't realised it earlier in the day, but his room overlooked the very
place where ... a man was dragging Yuki by her collar right at this
moment.
No, not again!
"This time you have gone too far, girl! I am going to teach you
a lesson you will never forget!" growled the same man from the
previous night.
"Please, Mr Takeshi, no!" Yuki pleaded. There was the sound of
a clenched fist hitting soft flesh, followed by a cry of pain.
Soujirou backed up against a wall, tears welling up unexpectedly in his
eyes as he heard the sounds of more blows falling. Then, sounds grew
fainter, and finally, silence.
Has it ended? he wondered.
Then it came. Like a cry from the past.
"Help me, somebody! Please!"
Soujirou remembered it all too well.
"Somebody, please-"
I cannot let this pass... he vowed. Master Shishio gave me his
wakizashi. Yuki ... has nothing. Aloud: "I cannot!"
Katana in hand he jumped out the window, landing softly on the
courtyard. The backdoor was still open ... they must have gone that way.
Killing ki, Soujirou thought grimly, sensing it as he followed
the clear path out the back into the forest.
He found them soon enough. Yuki lay still against a tree trunk, her
clothing scattered about her. Soujirou could not see her face, nor could
he tell if she was still alive.
But the men, he could make out. The same three men from the previous
night. And that third man - Takeshi - was kicking her even now as he
adjusted his garments.
The other two, who were holding torches, must have sensed Soujirou, for
they looked in his direction and drew their katana - evidently they too,
had conveniently forgotten about the sword ban.
"Boss, it's the youth again," one of the men muttered.
"Eh? This won't do ... lucky us, we're not at the inn now, are
we?" Takeshi sniggered. He bent to pick up his own katana and drew
it. "I see you're not smiling now."
Soujirou did not reply. His eyes were on the girl ... it was Yuki,
indeed. But she was not moving. And he could not sense anything about
her ... just the dirty ki of the men who stood before him.
They fanned out as he stood, unmoving.
He had to know. "You killed her."
"What is she to you?" Takeshi asked. "You liked her,
too?"
In an instant, the level of killing ki about the men rose. Then,
in the corner of his eye, Soujirou saw one of the men nod. Both torches
were dropped suddenly, and in the sudden darkness as the torches
flickered on the ground, all three men attacked.
Soujirou jumped back, his body tensing as it dropped into a familiar
battle stance. With his Shukuchi technique, Soujirou enhanced his
already lightning fast speed, which the eye cannot follow, to that which
the eye cannot even see.
He never did begin to take pleasure in killing. Even from the first time
he took lives, it was spurred by the will to live, the instinct to
survive.
This time, Soujirou killed with pleasure.
The two men, as he had suspected earlier, were no ordinary thugs. They
managed to block his initial swordthrusts, but only barely. Their eyes
widened in shock as they realised they were more than out-matched - an
instant before Soujirou ended their lives.
Soujirou turned to face Takeshi.
Takeshi was evidently terrified. His grip on his own katana was weak; he
was trembling.
"P-p-please, spare me, great swordsman!" he begged, dropping
his sword. Soujirou knew he had to - no, he wanted to - make him
suffer. A quick death this man did not deserve.
Soujirou smiled. "Die."
Nothing could have stopped the blade's arc to the man's abdomen. It
would have disemboweled him, spilling his insides, ensuring a slow and
painful death in the minutes, if not hours, to come. Nothing ... but
Yuki's voice.
"Mr ... Soujirou!"
The blade swung clear, cutting nothing but air, for Soujirou jumped back
at the sound of her feebly whispering his name.
The anger quickly subsided as he knelt by her. She had been badly beaten
... and perhaps more. Soujirou gathered up her clothes and covered her.
In spite of her obvious pain, Soujirou could see her smile.
Whoever that man at the cemetery was, he was at least partially right.
That smile ... brought comfort to Soujirou.
The sound of a katana being picked up alerted him to Takeshi.
Only a fool would think... was Soujirou's immediate thought, but
Takeshi was such a fool, who dared to think he could catch the Tenken
unawares.
It was without malice that Soujirou split Takeshi in two without even
looking at him, before the latter managed a single step. A quick death
it was in the end, and more than he deserved.
Yuki felt so small and light in his arms. Barely skin and bones,
Soujirou thought as he made his way back to the inn after hastily
burying the dead.
Before dawn had arrived, even before the rest of the innkeeper's family
had woken up, Soujirou and Yuki - still asleep in his arms - had left.
If he thought it odd that Soujirou would leave with a bigger bundle than
he arrived in, the doorman said nothing. But then, his eyes were bleary
from drink.
@@@@@
They stood by Shishio and Yumi's grave, heads bowed. Yuki knew not who
lay at rest there, but knew enough that they were important to Soujirou.
Soujirou was deep in thought. After a long while, Yuki noted tears
flowing down his face, and she reached out to hold his hand.
His eyes opened slowly, and the first thing he saw was her smile.
Soujirou smiled too as he wiped the tears away.
"Let us go, Miss Yuki," he said finally. "We have a long
way to go."
Yuki nodded. Together they bid farewell to the caretaker and his friend,
and left the cemetery. Hidden from view, behind one of the larger
gravestones, the white-haired man watched them leave.
He had seen her smile.
