CHAPTER TWO
"Well?" asked Hirose Hagiwara. Propped up on an elbow, hair askew and pale from the pain, he looked ghoulish, as if he were more dead than alive.
Kenshin swallowed. He'd been afraid of this. Miura might think it a good idea to allow a stranger into her home, but her older brother was obviously more suspicious.
"Hirose! You're awake!"
Miura ignored the look Hirose was giving Kenshin and rushed to his side, putting her hands gently on his shoulders to urge him back down.
"You shouldn't be moving around. The doctor said you have to rest."
"Forget the doctor, what's going on here?"
Hirose resisted, stubbornly keeping his torso upright, though he winced at Miura's well-intentioned attempts to get him to lie down.
There was only one thing to do.
Kenshin put his hands on the floor in front of his knees and bowed low over them. "Forgive me, Hagiwara-san. I entered your home without permission. I will leave."
"No! Please, don't go," Miura cried out and leaned over to whisper urgently in her brother's ear.
Easing back into his sitting position on the floor, Kenshin waited. Hirose's tense expression relaxed, and he lay back down to stare at the ceiling as he spoke.
"My sister tells me I owe you a debt of gratitude," he said tiredly. "You can stay, if you'd like."
"Thank you."
Miura rose to her feet. "I will go and prepare a futon."
"Upstairs," Hirose ordered flatly, gesturing to a ladder in the corner that jutted up through a hole cut in the ceiling. Kenshin guessed it led to an upper storey hidden beneath the steep roof.
"But Hirose," began Miura. She stopped when he raised his head to give her a look. Nodding sadly, she disappeared behind a shoji screen.
"There's plenty of room upstairs," Hirose told Kenshin. "The ladder creaks a bit, but it's sturdy."
"Ah."
Point taken. Hirose was letting Kenshin know that if he tried to sneak downstairs to the family quarters, more particularly to Miura's room, he'd be heard.
Upstairs proved to be mainly storage. Discarded farm equipment, ancient futons, and a large wooden loom dominated the space.
Miura took a broom and brushed away the worst of the dust, coughing as it swirled around her. Kenshin held the futon until the floor was clean, then set it down, glancing over at the nearby loom. It seemed steady enough not to fall over on him as he slept.
"That was my grandmother's loom," Miura said. "She used to raise silkworms and make cloth. Mother gave up on it after she died. She said there was no sense pretending we were true samurai status anymore."
She blushed, realizing she'd revealed a family secret.
"Do you weave?" Kenshin asked, filling the awkward silence with a question.
"Me? No. I never learned how, and now…" she trailed off.
"Now?"
She smiled. "It's nothing. Please, rest here. I'll come and get you for the evening meal."
He watched her disappear down the ladder, then walked over to the loom, touching it gently. Had Tomoe known how to weave? She too was born into the samurai class. It was one of the many things he hadn't thought to ask her, and now it was too late.
Kenshin lay back on the futon, memories of his time in Otsu filling his thoughts until they faded into dreams.
o-o-o
Dinner was awkward. Hirose couldn't sit upright because of his hip, so Miura had to feed him his meal. He chafed at the indignity, so Kenshin ate as quickly as possible and retreated up the ladder to give him privacy. Despite his afternoon nap, he slept soundly and woke before dawn. Usually at this hour he'd be outside practicing his kata, the rhythms and procedures of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu as taught to him by his master, Hiko Seijuro.
However, he was staying with a family now and had no desire to annoy Hirose by creeping down the ladder before the others were awake. So instead he moved the futon aside and did an abbreviated version of his morning kata, concentrating on silence and precision rather than the more elaborate, powerful moves.
He heard Miura starting breakfast. When the smell of miso soup began wafting its way up to the second floor he sheathed his sakabatou and descended.
"Good morning, Himura-san." Hirose's voice was hoarse, and from the dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't slept well.
"Good morning, Higiwara-san," Kenshin returned.
He came and sat across the firepit from his host just as Miura entered and set a tray down in front of him. She went to the kitchen and returned with another for Hirose, and knelt next to him to help him eat. Tea followed the meal, and soon Hirose's eyes were closing.
Miura withdrew her arm from behind her brother's head where she'd been propping him up so he could eat, and lowered him gently down on his futon. She picked up the pottery cup he'd been drinking out of and sniffed it.
Noticing Kenshin's stare, she smiled nervously.
"The doctor gave me a powder to relieve Hirose's pain. He said it might make him sleepy. He refused to take it last night, so I slipped it in his tea this morning."
Kenshin blinked and set his own tea down abruptly.
"Oh, I didn't put any in yours," she reassured him, and Kenshin felt foolish.
These were good people. Hirose was only being protective of his little sister in not taking the medicine last night, and she in turn was protecting him the best way she knew how.
Miura retrieved his cup as well and disappeared into the kitchen area. When she reappeared she was carrying a basket and wearing a broad brimmed straw hat, adjusting the chinstrap as she knelt by Hirose to leave him a jug of water and a tray of food.
"Shall we go?" she asked.
"Yes," Kenshin answered. They made their way out the door. Kenshin moved towards the barn, but Miura stopped him.
"We won't need the oxcart today. Let's just get the sweet potatoes into the bags. We can leave them in the field overnight."
Shrugging his agreement, he followed her down the dirt track to the edge of the field.
Harvesting sweet potatoes used an entirely different set of muscles than swordplay. Miura showed him how to extract the vegetables from the ground and gave him some empty bags from her basket to put them in. He listened politely, not wanting to tell her that he'd farmed a bit before in Otsu. They worked in silence for a couple of hours as the sun began to climb in the sky.
Falling into a rhythm, Kenshin found the work oddly soothing. His hands and back were engaged, but his mind could wander where it willed. He wondered how Katsura was doing, and thought of his comrades in arms, regretting the loss of some, and hoping the survivors were safe and happy with their families now that the last shogunate forces had surrendered.
Like so many others, Miura's eldest brother hadn't made it back from the war. With that thought, he looked over and back along the next row where Miura was working.
She was gone.
Kenshin's hands stilled. He rose to a standing position and wheeled around. She hadn't disappeared, she was lying face down across her row. At first he thought she'd tripped and fallen, but when she didn't move he knew something was wrong.
Sprinting to her, Kenshin knelt and turned her over. She was pale, but alive. Puffs of air came from her mouth when he passed his hand over it. There was a streak of dirt on her cheek.
Harking back to his fighting days, he automatically looked her over for a wound, but saw no sign of one. She'd fainted, the way he'd thought she would when he first met her and gave her the news about her brother. He guessed that the stress finally caught up with her.
Sliding his arms behind her shoulders and knees, he picked her up and carried her to the tree where she'd left her basket, and laid her down in the shade. As he'd thought, there was a jug of water in the basket. He opened it, poured some on the serving cloth he found, and pressed it against her forehead.
After a while she moaned and her eyelids fluttered open.
"Where…What?"
"You fainted," Kenshin told her. She tried to sit up, but he pressed her back into the grass. "No. Rest here."
"But the harvest," she protested.
"Rest," he commanded again. "It's nearly lunch time," he lied. "You've done enough for now. I'll get back to work."
She nodded, relenting. She was still very pale, and Kenshin knew he was doing the right thing. He gave her face a last swipe with the cloth, washing the smear off her cheek, then handed it to her, and went back to work.
At midday he came to check on her, and was a little unnerved to discover she'd been watching him. She smiled shyly and offered him some dumplings. Kenshin insisted she share them, and they ate companionably in silence.
"Thank you, for helping me, and for helping Hirose," she said when they'd finished.
"It was nothing. Anyone would have done the same." He looked away, embarrassed.
"Were you in the war?" she asked in an obvious attempt to fill the silence.
Kenshin grew still.
"Yes," he answered cautiously.
"Which side did you fight for?"
He hesitated. "The Ishin Shishi" he said at last, and watched to see what her reaction would be. After all, her brother died in the service of the shogun.
She nodded. "Lots of people around here did too. My brother and Sanada didn't, but no one thinks the worse of them for it. Our local daimyo was forced into exile for staying loyal to the shogun. It was a confusing time."
"Yes."
Confusing was one word for the ebb and flow of alliances and loyalties during the war.
"So why do you wander, now that the war is over?" she asked guilelessly.
"It's complicated," Kenshin replied shortly.
"Oh," she whispered, and looked away, face pinched in embarrassment.
He'd been too abrupt. Unsure how to fix it, he got up and went back to work. When the light began to fail he collected her from under the tree and they walked back in silence. Miura was too hesitant to begin a conversation, and Kenshin was too tired to do more than put one foot in front of the other.
Hirose was awake and in pain when they returned. Miura hurried to fix dinner while Kenshin poured several buckets of water over his body from the well out back to sluice off the sweat and dirt he'd accumulated during the day.
Again he ate quickly and left Miura to feed her brother in private, retreating to his room as soon as he could.
o-o-o
The next morning Hirose looked better at breakfast, probably because Miura had slipped the medicine the doctor gave him in his tea the night before. He was even civil, asking how much harvesting had been done the day before. When Kenshin told him, he seemed pleased with the answer, and complimented Kenshin and Miura for making good time.
That was when Kenshin realized Miura hadn't told her brother that she'd fainted the day before. Catching the warning in her eyes, he stayed quiet about it until they were halfway to the field.
"You didn't tell your brother about yesterday."
Miura looked down at her feet. "I didn't want him to worry. I'll be fine today. You'll see."
Opening his mouth to protest, Kenshin was distracted when she lunged forward, hurrying to a little hut by the side of the road. She knelt in front of it and placed her palms together.
It was a shrine with a small stone Buddha inside. Kenshin waited until she'd finished, ready to take up the conversation where it left off.
"It's my brother's favorite," she said as she stood, pointedly staring at the statue.
"Oh?"
"Yuuichirou always said he looked like he was smiling, so he liked it much more than the bigger Buddha in the town shrine. See?"
Kenshin had to admit that the stonemason who'd carved the statue did an excellent job of tilting the corners of the mouth up just enough to suggest that this particular Buddha was more about good cheer than somber holiness.
"It's…nice."
Seeing Miura's disappointment in his reply, Kenshin continued.
"He looks happy. It's a good Buddha."
She smiled softly and stared back at the shrine.
"I think so too. It always reminds me of Yuuichirou every time I see it."
Suddenly it seemed petty to berate Miura for lying to her brother. They walked on to the field in companionable silence, Miura accepting his order that she stay under the shady tree while he worked.
He was more than ready for a break when mid-day rolled around. Miura had the food and water ready for him, and he ate and drank gladly. As night fell they walked back together, talking of inconsequential things.
The days passed. Hirose became more gracious to Kenshin, to the point where he no longer seemed to mind having him see Miura feed him. Hirose spent his time sleeping or reading. Miura confided to Kenshin that Hirose once hoped to go into service with their elder brother, clerking for the local daimyo. That dream died when the war claimed the hired hand who used to help run the family farm, and Hirose had to become a full time farmer. Yuuichirou's death meant that he was doomed to continue farming since with the daimyo's disgrace and the reorganization of the local government. The clerking job had disappeared as well.
One morning Miura was silent as they walked to the field. She stayed at the shrine praying for longer than usual, and only offered a sad smile to Kenshin instead of an explanation when she was done.
At lunch, Kenshin decided to go on the offensive.
"Miura-san. Is something wrong?"
She hesitated as she handed him his food. "What makes you ask?"
"You are quiet today."
"Perhaps I'm a quiet person," she suggested, avoiding his gaze.
She was no Tomoe, able to hide her emotions behind a carefully blank face. Miura was unhappy, and Kenshin needed to find out if it was something he'd done or said.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
She sighed.
"It's Yuuichirou's birthday today. I just wonder, when he went to war if he knew he'd never spend another birthday with us." Her breath hitched and she began to cry as she spoke.
"It isn't fair! He made it almost to the end of the war, and then he died of illness. Yuuichirou almost never got sick. Why? How could he die like that?"
She cried brokenly, bending over to lean against the tree, muffling her sobs against her arms.
Shocked, Kenshin berated himself. How could he have been so self-centered as to think Miura's unhappiness had anything to do with him? He'd been more than ready to apologize for whatever he'd done, but in a situation like this there was nothing he could say to cheer her up.
He'd seen countless men die in the war, some by his blade, some by gunshot or explosion from the artillery shells both sides used. Dying of illness was another type of hellacious death, no less horrible than death from a broken, wounded body.
Wordlessly, he put his hand on her shoulder and left it there, letting her cry. If only he could cry away his memories, his particular sorrows and regrets.
Eventually her tears ran dry. She turned to face him, and he let his hand fall off her shoulder to his side.
"Please forgive my weakness," she whispered.
Kenshin shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive. Grieving happens to us all."
Miura sniffed. "Did you lose someone in the war too?"
Kenshin hesitated. She noticed and shrank a little.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled quickly. "I shouldn't have asked."
"No, it's alright."
Coming to a decision, Kenshin looked her in the eye as he spoke. "I lost my wife. I haven't been able to cry since that day."
"Ah," she sighed in perfect understanding. "This is the first time I've been able to cry since I read Sanada's letter about Yuuichirou. I wanted to be so brave for Hirose. He's trying so hard to make the farm work. I didn't want to burden him."
"I don't think that you could ever be a burden to your brother," Kenshin said slowly. It was true. Hirose adored his little sister.
"Thank you for saying so," She seemed pleased, and gave him a watery smile. Kenshin went back to work with a lighter heart.
o-o-o
Miura caught a summer cold. To take her mind off it, Kenshin took longer lunch breaks so he could talk with her. She wanted to know more about Tomoe. He couldn't bring himself to tell her the circumstances of Tomoe's death, so he talked about the little things. Her quiet grace, her love of writing, the way her forgetfulness worried her, like the time she'd forgotten the daikon radish for dinner. In speaking of Tomoe and their days in Otsu, Kenshin felt his words take on a glow, reflecting the happiness and contentment he'd felt. It seemed to affect Miura too. She smiled more often in between coughs, and laughed in delight when he spoke of the village children who came to play with the 'medicine seller' and his wife.
They were walking home from the fields, Miura giggling at his story of the antics of Aki, a toddler who liked to eat bugs, much to his older sister's displeasure and Tomoe's surprise, when Kenshin noticed a stranger in the doorway of the Hagiwara home.
Instantly he stepped in front of Miura and put his hand on the hilt of his sakabatou.
The man in the doorway also carried swords. He was of average height, lean to the point of thinness, but wiry too. His stance and demeanor radiated animosity.
Kenshin peered into the darkness over the man's shoulder, unable to see if Hirose was all right. He glanced quickly around the yard, searching for signs of other warriors, but saw and felt only the presence of the one blocking the doorway.
"S…Sanada-san?" Miura's voice quavered from behind him.
She pushed past Kenshin and came to stand at the foot of the engawa.
The man stepped to the end of the porch and stared down at her, ignoring Kenshin.
"Miura-chan," the man said at last. "I'm home."
To Be Continued…