Sano dropped his pack outside the Kamiya gate and stretched his arms over his head, feeling the joints pop. Damn trip got longer every time he made it – and the East Sea Road was less and less safe, nowadays, as unregulated Western guns flooded the country and peasants turned to banditry to make ends meet. Not that he could blame them. What with inflation and the rising tax rate, it was that, starve, or sell your children into slavery.
He flexed his right hand, grimacing. There had been more slave caravans than usual; he had his theories about why, but that didn't make it any easier to pass them without doing or saying something. He had to remember that it wasn't just him anymore, and hadn't been for a long time. There was a plan. The plan was proceeding.
He would live to see a free Japan.
"Oi! Missy!" he called out. The gate was closed. That wasn't usual, and always meant to proceed with caution. Sano waited a few moments, then called out again. "Kid? Is anyone home?"
Footsteps. The gate opened and Kaoru peered out. She smiled when she saw him, but there was a wan and brittle look in her eyes. His brow creased in concern.
"Sano! Welcome back," she said, and opened the gate further. Seeing the look on his face, she broadened her grin. Sano cracked his knuckles and shot her a you're-not-fooling-me look.
"What's wrong, little lady?"
Her smiled faded and she looked away.
"You'd better come inside first. It's complicated."
"That so?" He picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. "Guess I'm coming in, then."
The compound was quiet. The high walls blocked what little noise filtered in from the streets, and Kaoru didn't have that many neighbors to begin with. The isolation made it a useful place to hide things – and people – that he didn't want found. That, and Kaoru's reputation. Her parents had been respected in the community, and some of that glamour had worn off on their daughter. She didn't really realize it, having never not had influence, but people extended her more than the ordinary courtesy and would never suspect her of harboring escaped slaves – or anything else illegal, for that matter.
It wasn't only escapees that he funneled through here: there were the packages, and the "friends in need," and maybe it was wrong to use her home as a safehouse for the cause but she never asked questions and it was so much safer for her if she didn't know the full extent of things.
"Yahiko!" she called as they walked together towards the main house. "Sano's back!"
"About time!" came an indignant shout from the training hall. Yahiko pelted out, barely stopping to slide on his sandals, and leapt in the air with his bamboo sword held high.
"Prepare yourself!"
Sano stepped idly to one side. Yahiko landed on the ground – he didn't stumble this time, good on him, kid had been working hard – and charged again. Sano pressed his hand against Yahiko's forehead and held him casually at arm's length as the kid swung his practice sword, furiously trying to score a hit.
"Later, kid, okay? Seems me 'n the missy've got some business to take care of."
And, to Sano's surprise, the kid left off immediately.
"Right," he said, lowering the bamboo blade. "That guy. Um, Kaoru, should I…?"
"Go back to the training hall. When you've finished your exercises for today and cleaned up, you can go visit with Tsubame."
"Got it." He nodded and jogged off. Sano blinked.
"This must be serious," he commented, and it was only half a joke.
"It is," she said, pausing to take off her shoes. "Or at least, Megumi thinks so."
He slid off his own sandals and followed her into the house.
"Well, don't keep me hangin' like this. What's going on?"
"It's probably easier to show you. Don't fly off the handle, okay?" She stopped outside on the spare bedrooms and knocked on the wood frame of the screen. "Kenshin? I'm coming in."
Kenshin? Sano frowned. He'd never heard that name before. What had Kaoru managed to get her tangled in during the two weeks he'd been gone? It couldn't be too bad, or Megumi would have sent a messenger pigeon…
There was no response from inside the room, but Kaoru opened the screen anyway. It took Sano all of three seconds to recognize the bandaged man kneeling on the futon – red hair, slave brand on left cheek, strange blue eyes – and as soon as he did, he shoved Kaoru behind his back and brought up his fists.
"Kaoru, get out of here!"
"No!" She shoved past him; he grabbed the collar of her kimono and she cried out, temporarily choked. And then the manslayer was on his feet and lunging at them and Kaoru was in the way –
"Kenshin! Stop!"
– the manslayer's legs folded under him. He collapsed onto the floor, shaking, and pressed his forehead to the matting. Sano's jaw dropped. His grip on Kaoru's collar loosened and she pulled away from him to kneel next to the manslayer. He flinched away from her.
"Mistress. Forgive this worthless one," he murmured, and Sano saw his fingers dig slightly into the mats.
Sano stared, blood and adrenaline still pounding in his veins. Then the gears started turning and he sagged heavily against the door, emptying his lungs in a single, shocked breath.
"Holy shit."
Kaoru ignored him, resting two fingers lightly on the manslayer's sleeve. He started at the touch, bracing himself for a blow.
"It's alright," she said quietly, and Sano had known her for too long not to notice the banked rage in her eyes even as she held herself so gently. "Sano startled me, too. But he's my friend, and you can't hurt him, understand?"
"Yes, mistress. There will be no further errors."
Sano had never heard the manslayer speak before. He knew of the man, of course, had seen him a couple of times when Kanryu made public appearances and brought along a bodyguard, but he'd never heard him say a word. His voice was – not even a voice. It was a sound that made words. Voices had personality, told the listener about the person they belonged to. Kaoru's voice was high and determined, Yahiko's was brash and loud, Megumi's was low and smooth as black silk… but there was nothing in the manslayer's voice. It was just a sound.
Sano suppressed a shiver.
Kaoru coaxed the manslayer back onto the futon and slid off the top of his robe to check his bandages. Sano noticed, now, the full extent of his injuries, and closed his eyes briefly while he cursed himself for a fool. Of course. Of course, if she'd found someone in that state she'd have to help. She didn't have it in her not to. And why would she think to be careful when he'd never told her that she had to be? He had been trying to protect her, for fuck's sake.
He pressed the heel of his hand briefly against his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Goddammit. Goddammit.
Sano's eyes narrowed as he watched Kaoru tending the manslayer. He didn't look like much, sitting on the futon as Kaoru checked his wounds. It would have made a sweet picture, the woman tending the injured warrior, if not for the total blankness in his eyes and the way he tracked every move she made. Like his life depended on anticipating her and yielding to her desires without being asked…
Something else clicked, and Sano choked on a string of words that he definitely didn't want Kaoru to know he used regularly.
"Kaoru?"
"Yes?" she said, finishing her examination.
"How – exactly – did the manslayer end up here?"
"His name," and Sano winced at the acid in her voice. "is Kenshin. Please use it."
"Fine." He clenched his fist, biting back a growing anger. "How did Kenshin – Kanryu's rabid little pet – end up sleeping in your guestroom?"
The manslayer tensed, shrinking in on himself. His hands flexed as he reached for the blade that wasn't at his side. At least Kaoru'd had that much sense.
Kaoru sighed and slid the manslayer's robe back on before she stood up.
"Like I said, it's complicated."
"Well, fuckin' enlighten me." Anger and dread warred in him: anger at himself, at her, at the whole ugly mess. Dread, because he had a pretty good idea of what had happened – the rough outline, if not the details – and there was no way Kaoru would consider doing the smart thing. That was what he loved about her, why thisplace was the memory he clung to when he'd seen too much evil for one person to bear andneeded to remember that taking action just-because wasn't worth fucking everything up.
In this case, though, it stood a damn good chance of getting her killed.
He'd thought this might happen, eventually: she was too willing to give herself away. But he'd always dismissed the thought soon after, because he'd done his best to shield her from the real fight – and he'd never thought that keeping her ignorant might be what dragged her in. Although he really should have. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
"Fine, then. Come with me," she said, tugging at Sano's sleeve as she left the room. He followed her, glancing over his shoulder at the manslayer. He was kneeling on the futon again, immobile as a statue.
She took him into the kitchen and told him what had happened as she made lunch, and she was distracted enough that the meal turned out half-edible. Sano let her talk, half-listening to the story he'd already figured out and watching her instead.
Kaoru was scared. He didn't like it. Kaoru didn't get scared, she got angry, and although she was that, too –so angry he didn't think she was any more aware of it than a fish was of water – it was mixed with a bone-shaking fear that didn't sit right on her.
And it was his fault. He could have kept her totally in the dark, or he could have told her everything. Instead, he'd tried to compromise and ended up telling her just enough to get her into bad trouble.
"You're not gonna give him up, are you?" he said when she was finished.
"…no." Her voice was quiet. "I can't. I'm committed."
"Shit." He stared glumly at his lunch, appetite gone. "I'm sorry, missy."
She wrinkled her brow, picking at her own meal.
"What for?"
He scratched the back of his neck, sighing.
"'Cause I shouldn't 'a kept things from you. Or I should 'a just never told y'anything to begin with. One or the other."
"I don't think it would have mattered." She finally took a bite and chewed slowly, not savoring it: like someone with a stomachache or recovering from the flu, eating only because they had to. She swallowed. "I don't think anything would have changed the choices I made. I couldn't – I can't leave someone like that. Anyone."
"So, Fox told y'about what I really do, other'n the – you know?"
She nodded. "It shocked me at first, but when I thought about it, it explained a lot. Like why you're always going off to Kyoto. You're not stopping there, are you?"
"Well – actually, I do stop there. 'S where I meet with my contact. It's, ah – we try not to know too much about each other, y'know?"
"A clandestine cell system."
He blinked, surprised.
"I'm not totally ignorant," she said tartly, eating a bit more. "You're the head of the Edo cell, aren't you? You know everyone in your cell, and your contact, but no one else. Everyone in the cell knows you, and might know one or two other people, but no one else. That way, no one person can bring down the organization."
"Pretty much." He weighed whether or not to tell her that he was actually the head of an Edo cell – technically, that wasn't information he was supposed to have, but he had ears and people got sloppy. "Look – how involved d'you wanna be?"
"Aren't I already pretty involved?" She looked up at him and glared, piercing him. "You haven't just been passing escaped slaves through my home, right? How much danger have I already been in?"
"...look, they can't get y' on treason if you didn't know, and helpin' escaped slaves is just theft…"
"And do you really think I would have let you just – oh!" She jabbed her chopsticks at him, eyes snapping. "You stupid, idiot, selfish – "
He raised his hands in a placating gesture.
"I fucked up. No excuse. I'm sorry."
"Well… good." She started eating with a will. "Now, Megumi said that you can find out what happened – if he was abandoned, or escaped, or what. I've been keeping him hidden, but I need to know what to do next."
"Okay, okay." He started eating, then, glad to see some light back in her eyes. "I gotta meet with my guy this evening anyway, I'll talk to 'im then. Sheesh."
"Fine. And if I have to leave with Kenshin, and Yahiko won't come, I expect you to take responsibility for him! And for my father's school! I don't want to come back one day and find the place in ruins, or turned into some kind of gambling den full of your loser friends!"
"Alright! I get it! Lay off, already!"
They ate lunch and squabbled, and Sano felt the dust of the road flaking off him: he was home now, and there was nothing he couldn't handle.
Kaoru and Sano walked together as far as the first bridge before he turned off, citing the need to meet a friend – his "guy," presumably – and Kaoru continued on to the market. The contentment she felt whenever Sano came home and her family reunited had only been a temporary relief. Now the tight knot in her stomach began to reassert itself, and she had to stop in the middle of the bridge to watch the water swirling at the base of the posts and breathe. Deep. Through the nose into the center of her being, the seat of power, and out again through the mouth, carrying disharmony away with it.
Then she continued on, reviewing her grocery list and the monthly budget. She could make it work – Sano had handed over some cash before he left – even with the extra mouth to feed.
She should have brought Yahiko with her. He'd need to know how to do this, if she had to leave. Or maybe not – maybe he'd decide to go with her. Which would leave Sano in charge of the school. He was a grown man, he could at least shop for groceries. Right?
…could she really leave Japan? She didn't speak any language other than Japanese, she'd never even left Edo. But what if – could she just pack up and go? It wouldn't be that bad, right? Sano's organization helped people do this all the time. There would be other Japanese people in the free countries, wouldn't there? She wouldn't be totally alone…
Her heart started racing and she had to pause again in the shade of a gingko tree.
Enough. She was borrowing trouble, and there'd be plenty of that when the bills came due without taking out a loan against the present moment.
Kaoru threw back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and marched off to market.
It was early afternoon, and the crowds were beginning to return after a collective break for lunch. There were slaves mixed in with the free citizens: following after their owners or walking alone, heads bowed. Lifting and carrying and running and fetching, branded with a simple cross on cheek or forehead – where it couldn't be hidden – and wearing their masters' crests on their clothes. Most of them, anyway. Some were marked with a tattoo on a forearm or inside of a wrist; those inked crests didn't always match the ones on their clothes.
Kaoru had asked, once, why some slaves were marked that way and what happened if those slaves were sold. Sano's face had gone dark, and he'd told her that she really didn't want to know. She'd heard rumors anyway: that particularly attractive slaves would be singled out, for certain reasons, and sent to special training-houses…
Kenshin only had a cross on his cheek. She touched her own, absently, and thought for a moment that she felt the raised lines of a scar.
She'd never paid much attention to the slaves. It was hard to look at them without feeling sick, without wanting to do something and not knowing what it was. But she couldn't avoid them, so she had taught herself not to notice them. Now, though, she watched them carefully: how they acted around their masters, around the free, around each other. Some of them were a little like Kenshin: silent and subdued, responding immediately to any offhand statement from their masters and otherwise unresponsive. Others were subservient, but at least looked around and took note of things when not dancing attendance. And some acted more like servants than anything else, talking respectfully but freely and even initiating conversations, albeit mostly with other slaves. The last group largely traveled alone, trusted to complete errands without supervision, and she wondered if that was what made the difference.
She couldn't ask them, of course. Etiquette demanded that you never approach a stranger's slave, any more than you would try to borrow their shopping basket without permission. And she doubted she'd get a straight answer even if she could. So she sighed instead and turned to her shopping, idly browsing through the vegetables.
"Something on your mind, miss?"
Kaoru looked up, startled, and smiled politely at the shopkeeper.
"Oh, it's nothing." Her eyes strayed to the young woman kneeling on the raised floor of the shop, behind the street stalls, sorting and weighing tied bunches of leeks. She turned to place her bundles in a basket, and Kaoru saw the cross burned on her cheek. Maybe…
"Well, if you have a moment…" She took a breath, focusing on the shopkeeper. He was an older man, with a gentle look in his eye. And yet he owned a slave.
"For various reasons, I'm considering buying a slave. I've never had one before – my family never needed one. But since my parents passed away…" she let her voice trail off. "…anyway, I was just wondering…"
"Ah, I see." He nodded sagely, clicking his tongue against the pipe in the corner of his mouth. "Well, well. And what kind of help are you needing?"
She shrugged. "Repairs. Gardening. I can't do everything by myself, and I don't have any older brothers – well, I have one, but he has to travel a lot." That was true enough – Sano counted. More or less.
The old man rubbed his chin, a contemplative gleam in his eyes. "Sounds like you need a husband more than you do a slave."
"Oh, no!" She flushed, not acting. "I can't possibly – not yet, anyway. There are circumstances…"
Kaoru crossed her fingers in her sleeve, hoping the old man wouldn't pry any further. Thankfully he only chuckled and tapped his finger to the side of his nose.
"Well, it's your business. But, seein' as you're a woman alone, you might consider buying yourself a guard – you can always get 'im trained to do the work you need, and it's easier than training a domestic to be a guard, I can tell you that much, for all it costs a little extra."
"A guard?"
"Ay." He nodded firmly. "Used to be guards were the least reliable slave you could get. Puttin' a weapon in a slave's hands had a way of making them think they were near as good as citizens. 'Bout ten years ago, though, the Kanryu group started selling guards that were just as docile as you please. Cut their own throats if you ordered it, even. I wouldn't hesitate to recommend 'em, even to a woman."
"I… I see." Her stomach lurched. She forced a smile over her nausea. "I'll definitely keep that in mind. If I could just get these vegetables…? I really have to be getting back home soon."
She concluded her business quickly and managed to walk away from the stall calmly, without rushing or appearing anything other than a young woman buying groceries. As soon as it was feasible, she turned into an alley, hid behind a pile of lumber, and was promptly and violently sick.
Yahiko paused outside the door to Kenshin's room, chewing on his lower lip. He'd carried his practice sword in with him – something Kaoru frowned on, as a rule, but he felt older when he had it strapped to his back. Stronger. Like he could take on the world.
He started to reach for the door, changed his mind, and turned to leave. Then he changed it again and opened the door.
Kenshin was kneeling on the futon, head bowed. His only reaction was a quick flick of his eyes towards the door when it opened; otherwise he held himself as still as a statue.
"Hey," Yahiko said. There was a subtle tensing of Kenshin's shoulders. Nothing else.
"…my name's Yahiko." He took a step into the room. "I'm Kaoru's student."
Kenshin's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He turned to face Yahiko, bowed, and held it, moving as smoothly as a clockwork doll, except that dolls had more personality.
"Young master," he said flatly. The hairs on Yahiko's neck stood up. It wasn't only the lifelessness; he'd seen that before, and not only in slaves. The women of the pleasure quarters, the children who went away with the strange old men offering them food and shelter and came back changed…
He swallowed, hard.
There had been dogs in the slums. Vicious, starving things, more than half-wild and as dangerous as the people who owned them. Most of the dogs did have owners; were kept, not for love or companionship, but as weapons. As good as fists or firearms or hidden daggers – better, actually, since they were cheaper. They could find their own food, after all, and some bitch somewhere was always whelping.
He'd learned to spot the owned dogs quickly. The ferals slunk around and stole from the edges, but the guard dogs stalked openly through the muddied streets, carrying an air of menace with them. Of desperate violence waiting to break free: teeth that yearned to rip and tear because that was all they were. That meant the difference between starvation and a full belly, between pain and not-pain, between a roof over their head or a shivering night in the frozen mud. It wasn't a question of desire, not really. But a dog that didn't fight had no use to its master, and a useless dog wasn't even worth killing. They'd die soon enough on their own.
The man kneeling submissively on the futon felt like those dogs.
Yahiko forced himself to take another step, moving through air that was suddenly thick as water.
"I wanted to say…" His mouth was bone-dry and he worked his jaw, trying to moisten it. "I wanted to say – it's strange being here, right? 'Cause Kaoru's doing her mom thing, and that's not how it works. And I wanted to tell you – "
He faltered there; then he remembered his own first days here, the strain of waiting for the masks to come off, and rallied.
"…I wanted to tell you, it's not fake. She's for real. Look." He pushed up the sleeves he wore draped over his hands and let Kenshin see the thief-marks on his palms. "Three times a thief, see? I should be branded, but – Sano, he saved me. And he brought me here, and Kaoru – I know she's kinda overbearing, and she's got a bad temper and she can't cook – but once she's on your side, she'll never – she doesn't give up on people, and she doesn't rat them out, no matter what. And she's on your side now, so she won't let anything bad happen to you. You're safe. You don't have to be afraid. Really."
He searched Kenshin's face for some sign that the other man understood. And there didn't seem to be any – except then there was, just a flash of something: blue eyes that darkened in worry, just for a moment, and the sense of animal menace suddenly receded.
"She won't hurt you, ever," Yahiko said, letting his sleeves fall over his hands again. "She won't let anyone else hurt you either. So don't be scared. That's all."
He nodded and turned to leave. In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Kenshin reach out; but when he looked over his shoulder, Kenshin hadn't moved at all.
Megumi was making wound salve.
The manslayer – no, Kenshin, he was Kenshin now, had always been deep down and it was important that she believe that with her very bones – had needed most of what she had in stock. Sagara was due back today or tomorrow, and he would use what she had left. So she was making more. It kept for months, and would always be in demand.
The pestle ground against the mortar in quick, simple circles.
She did not weep, because the salt of her tears would alter the composition of the salve, and the salve would be needed.
She'd been so proud to be chosen. So proud to serve. Her family's lord had called her to audience and assigned her specially to serve as Dr. Tsukuda's assistant. It was very important, she'd been told. She'd been chosen because the absolute best was required. And she'd been so proud and so confident that she'd never asked what she was making or why, and one day after Dr. Tsukuda had died she had been summoned to meet with his patron, her lord's ally, the man she really worked for.
And then she'd known what she was. What she had allowed herself to become, in her pride; she had been so eager to prove herself that she had betrayed everything her family held dear. Kanryu had taken her down to the training pens and showed her, and sometimes she could go a full hour without remembering the stench or the screams.
His grip had nearly fractured her wrist, growing tighter every time she tried to close her eyes or turn away. It had left bruises, deep black handprints that he'd never allowed the chance to fade.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, the pestle ground out, and her sin settled deeper into her bones.
And if she was a different woman, she might say: I had no choice. And if she was a different woman, she might say: I tried to stop it. And if she was a different woman, she might say: at least I escaped when I had the chance.
But she was herself, and she knew what she was, so she knelt on her bamboo mat and made wound salve and she did not weep, because the salt in her tears would alter the salve, and the salve would be needed.
Someone rang the bell at the gate and Megumi looked up, startled out of her meditations. She left her mortar and pestle and went outside, peering carefully through the peephole. It was Sagara, standing with his hands in his pockets and a disgruntled look.
"Yo, Fox, open up."
"Polite as ever," she sniffed, unlatching the gate and opening it. "So you're back."
"Yeah. And I stopped at Kaoru's before I came here."
Megumi froze for a moment, then made herself examine her nails as he stepped inside, shutting the gate behind him.
"So you know."
"Takani." Even now he kept himself under control; he didn't use her name, because he knew that she couldn't stand it when a man used her name. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
He kept his hands in his pockets, although she'd seen him like this before and she knew it was more his nature to grab her shoulders and give her a good shake. But he knew what it would make her remember if he did.
She hated him, a little, for all the things that he knew.
"I was thinking that there wasn't much point in crying over spilled milk." She shrugged, walking back towards the house, and Sagara followed. "It's not my fault you kept Kamiya ignorant. He'd already fixed on her, without being prompted – at least this way he's with someone he can't hurt."
"Did it not occur t'you that it might be some kinda trick? That Kanryu's just lookin' t'get to you?"
"And why on earth would he send the man – would he send Kenshin to get under my skin?"
"…she's got you doing it too, huh?" Sagara rubbed a weary hand over his face. "Because even I can tell that you pity the guy, and that you're carryin' a load of guilt around. 'Course you'd jump at a chance to help him. And then – " he smacked his closed fist against his open palm. "He's got ya."
"Shinomori would have warned us. In fact, since you're here, doesn't that mean he'll be by soon? And if it is a trap, isn't it better to have Kenshin staying far away from me?" She ushered him into the clinic, tossing her hair. "And for your information, Kamiya doesn't have me doing anything. Kenshin is his name. Now, sit and wait for Shinomori, I have work to finish – "
"I am here."
Megumi blanched, clutching her chest, and took a startled step back. Shinomori stepped out from a shadowy alcove in front of her. His blue eyes were shaded under his bangs, and he spared her only a passing glance.
"Aoshi," Sagara said, nodding in greeting. "How's tricks?"
"I have information for you."
"Yeah, about that – do you know about who Kaoru found?"
Shinomori nodded. "I'm aware. He's no threat."
"That a fact?" Sagara raised an eyebrow. "Well, why don't we all sit down, then, and you can tell us more. After that we'll handle business."
The spy inclined his head slightly. It wasn't quite a nod; more a quiet recognition of Sagara's priorities, and the fact that his fears needed to be soothed before they could get anything done. He stood aside and let Megumi lead them to the sitting room, where a tray of tea things stood ready near a cold brazier. She busied herself with lighting it and putting the kettle on while the men settled themselves.
"So," Sagara said when she finally sat back on her heels, "What's the story with this manslayer?"
"He has been abandoned." Shinomori knelt, as Megumi did; only Sagara sat cross-legged, nearly lounging. "Kanryu has relinquished title and possession. All formalities have been observed."
"What?" Megumi started forward and almost knocked over the brazier. "But – why would he?"
Shinomori turned to her and she forced herself not to quail under his impassive stare. They were on the same side, now, and she no reason to fear him.
"Because he was of no further use." Shinomori reached into his messenger's pouch and pulled out a sheaf of papers, spreading them out on the mats. "He is aging. His reflexes were slowing. And Kanryu believed that the conditioning was beginning to… malfunction. The manslayer was used as a training aide for some time, then turned out of the compound."
Training aide. That explained the fresh wounds. Megumi folded her hands in her lap and stared at the kettle, blood draining from her face.
"Waittaminute." Sagara straightened. "Whaddya mean, 'malfunction'? Is the guy dangerous?"
"No," Shinomori said, not looking up. "The core of the conditioning holds. He cannot harm his acknowledged master, or disobey his or her orders. However, recently, the manslayer began to exhibit… lapses in judgment. Inexplicable losses of memory. He appeared to be breaking down, and when the usual methods did not repair the damage, Kanryu concluded he had reached the end of his usefulness." He finished arranging the papers to his satisfaction and looked up. "Kanryu is not a sentimental man."
"No," Megumi said numbly. "He isn't."
"If Miss Kamiya wishes to take possession, she may do so without legal encumbrance. If she does so, it will provide valuable cover. The situation has not changed since my last report; I have not been able to entirely dissuade my men from investigating her without jeopardizing my own position. No one would believe she was an abolitionist if she took a slave."
"Even a useless one?" Sagara asked wryly. Shinomori shrugged.
"It is well-known that the Kamiya family is rich in honor but poor in funds. A woman, alone… she would take what was available. As for her parents' liberal leanings…" he waved his hand. "Again, she is a young woman with many responsibilities and few resources. Perhaps that is why she chose one who had been abandoned – as a salve to her guilt. She would not be the first hypocrite."
Megumi watched silently as Sagara's mouth twisted into a scowl.
"Shinomori's making sense," she said quietly, after he'd had a few moments to process it.
"The little lady's not gonna like it," he said finally. "I mean, really not gonna like it."
"Emancipating him is impractical at this juncture. Among other concerns, I do not believe he qualifies under law." Shinomori sounded completely disinterested, as if he were talking about the weather, and Megumi had to wonder if he really cared or if he only assisted them to advance his own agenda. Whatever that might be.
"Kamiya won't like it, no," she said, looking pointedly at Sagara. "But she'll do it. She's taken up his cause now, and you know what she's like. There's nothing she won't do to keep someone safe. Isn't that why you've used her for so long?"
She had chosen the word deliberately and let a satisfied smirk flit across her lips as Sagara flinched. It was a cruel thing to say – but truth so often was. And regardless of his doubtless genuine care for the girl, he had been using her.
"Aw, fuck." Sagara buried his face in his hands, scratching at his shock of brown hair. "Fuck. Fuck." The last expletive was drawn out in a weary sigh. "Goddammit. Fine. You swear that Kanryu doesn't want the guy back?"
"He has no further legal or personal interest in the manslayer. Miss Kamiya may assume title without impediment. I would recommend that she do so today if possible; tomorrow at the latest. The manslayer is well-known, and may be of interest to others even with a known defect."
Sagara frowned. "Yeah, but I've gotta give you the latest…"
"I'll go," Megumi stood. "Where is she, the Maekawa's?"
"Market." Sagara looked up at her, puzzled. "Don't you wanna hear?"
"You can fill me in later. Except," and she turned to Shinomori. "The matter we discussed earlier…?"
He handed her a few papers, bound with string. "Kanryu remains aware of your whereabouts, and unconcerned so long as his supplies of the drug hold. I estimate that they will continue to do so for another year. After that…" He shook his head and met her eyes, and there was an unexpected spark of humanity in his gaze. "I am sorry, Miss Takani."
"Well," she said, smiling wanly. "We'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it."
Kaoru adjusted her grip on the basket, sighing. Her throat ached. She had drunk from the public fountain and washed her face, hands shaking – her collar was still waterstained – but she just didn't feel clean. She didn't have much of a choice, though, because the groceries had to be bought and taken home and put away. Dinner had to be made, and Kenshin's bandages changed. After that she'd be able to take a bath. She planned to scrub herself raw.
The sun was sliding into the west, slanting mellow light across the city. The world was starting to smell of spring again, of flower petals and soil touched by rain. She stopped at the bridge that led to her neighborhood, leaning briefly against the railing and closing her eyes.
"Kamiya!" Someone called her name. She looked over her shoulder.
"Megumi?"
"I'm glad I caught up with you." The older woman hurried to meet her. "Are you done shopping?"
Kaoru nodded. "I was just heading home."
"Good. We need to go by the municipal office before you do."
"Why?" Kaoru took a step back, alarmed. "Is something wrong?"
"No, it's not that," Megumi shook her head. "You need to register title on Kenshin."
"Oh." She blinked. Then she processed what Megumi had said. "Wait. What? Now?"
"Ideally."
Kaoru exhaled hard, sagging a little. "Why?"
"Kenshin's a very interesting piece, you know," Megumi's voice was dry. Kaoru knew it wasn't aimed at her. "Historically, that is. He'd make a wonderful addition to any collection."
Her eyes widened and she felt weak. "People do that?"
"Some. Not many. It's a rarified hobby. But it seems that he was abandoned after all, so you need to take title quickly, before anyone else figures out he's up for grabs."
"…oh…" Her arms were suddenly boneless. She set her basket down, half on the path and half on the wood of the bridge. "Sorry. Can I just – can I have a second?"
There was a bench nearby. She stumbled to it and sat down, cradling her head in her hands, and Megumi sat down beside her. The doctor didn't say anything while Kaoru tried to marshal her thoughts into something coherent.
She had convinced herself she'd have to leave the country. That would have been easy; frightening, but easy, because at least she could stay herself. But this… to make a living, thinking man her chattel, even if only for show…
"It's not… that I'm having second thoughts," she said abruptly, not lifting her head. "I just – I don't understand."
"I know," Megumi said quietly. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to make it easier."
Her voice was raw and open, and Kaoru looked up, startled by the naked honesty there. Megumi was staring into the sunset, hands folded neatly in her lap, and Kaoru hadn't realized until then that a person could cry without shedding a single tear.
"I could tell you to be glad that it is so hard for you, only I doubt that would help. I could tell you what I was taught at your age, all the reasons why slavery must exist. No one does this simply to be evil, you understand. So many believe, absolutely, that this is the natural order of things, and that we're the ones inexplicably trying to destroy a way of life that harms no one. But even if I told you all that, even if you came to understand the apologetics involved… well, do you think it would help if I did?"
She was speaking as if in a trance. Kaoru slowly straightened. Megumi looked at her, finally, and smiled faintly.
"…maybe it would." She swallowed, hard, unable to escape the sour taste of vomit. A feeling like cool rain poured down her spine, like the moment when she had first taken up a sword: slow and certain and absolute. "I have to know, Megumi. Really know. And I think – you're probably the only person who can teach me. It's not going to be real but – it'll be real for him, won't it? So if I don't know what to do…"
Kaoru swallowed and let the words hang unspoken between them. Megumi closed her eyes.
"You've never asked about my past," she said, and a casual listener might think it was a change of subject.
"No," she said simply. "I don't care about people's pasts."
"Isn't that what got you into this mess?"
"That doesn't change anything."
Megumi very nearly laughed. Then she stood, narrowing her eyes in the dying light.
"Well, the first step is to register your title," she said, and shot Kaoru one of those assessing looks. "Get up, Kamiya. I'll give you the basics on the way."
It was dark by the time she got home. The light from the houses spilled over their walls and out into the street, not quite as bright as day but not black as night either; light enough to see by. Megumi helped her bring the groceries in, and Yahiko, yawning, offered to escort her home. She accepted with a flirtatious flip of her hair, eyeing Kaoru with fox-gleaming eyes.
"You'll be alright, Kamiya?"
Kaoru nodded and thought no, I won't.
She made dinner. It was not impressive.
She brought Kenshin his meal and then ate hers alone, kneeling in the dining room with the doors open and staring across the way to her parents' memorial shrine. They would understand. Wouldn't they?
The air felt very heavy.
After she cleared the dishes away, she lit incense at their altar and knelt for long minutes, praying for forgiveness. Then she went to the storehouse.
The hall to Kenshin's room stretched longer than she remembered it. She walked it carefully, balancing her burdens. When she opened the door he was kneeling in the same spot he'd been in for the past three days, ever since he'd recovered enough to sit up. His empty dishes were stacked neatly on the tray, which had been placed next to the door. If not for that, she wouldn't have known he'd moved at all.
The light from the room's lantern illuminated his hair and cast his face in shadows. She couldn't tell if his eyes were opened or closed; he could be a warrior deep in meditation, and she could be his sister or his daughter, his wife or his maid or his mother come to tend him, and any of those would have been preferable to the truth.
She only had a second to think this, because as soon as the door slid open completely he turned to face her and prostrated himself. She had to choke back the urge to rush to his side, to hold him and chase away his pain and order him never to kneel to anyone ever again.
That wouldn't help, she knew, now that Megumi had explained it to her. He didn't remember what it meant, to have someone be kind. He must have known kindness, once – Megumi had told her about the night she ran away, about the choice he'd made. And it had been a choice. She had to believe that.
No one who didn't understand kindness could have made such a choice.
Megumi had told her a lot, on the walk to and from the municipal office. More than she'd wanted to know; not all that she needed to know. There were some things, too, that she simply couldn't process yet. Wouldn't. A person could only take in so much evil at a time.
"Sit up," she told him, and he obeyed. "I'm going to change your bandages. Take off the top of your robe."
You're doing too much for him, Megumi had said, shaking her head, after Kaoru described the last few days: his silence and his stillness and her bewilderment. It's supposed to be the other way around. It's confusing him. You have to give him duties, Kaoru. Give him a way to serve you, a real way, or he'll assume that he has no value and that you're just toying with him. Usefulness is the only protection a slave has.
Her hands shook as she set out the medicinal salve and unwound the bandages.
"Face away from me and raise your arms."
Telling him what you're going to do is good, she'd continued. It will build trust. Explain things as much as you can. Don't make requests, though. Order him. Think of it like – like training a dog. Be clear, consistent, and confident.
She undid the knot that held the white linen wrapped around his chest in place and unwound the bandages slowly, watching for any sign of pain. Her hands shook a little.
But I don't want to hurt him, she'd protested. Megumi had shaken her head.
You can't rely on him to stop you, even if you order him to. His idea of what hurts him and your idea are probably very different – remember, he's a guard, not a domestic or a pleasure-slave. He's supposed to be tough, to not complain. You'll just have to watch him, all the time.
The wounds were healing nicely, and would barely scar. He probably didn't need bandages anymore. A training aide… target practice. He had been ordered to stand and allow himself to be beaten until he collapsed, then thrown into the pen at the end of the day to nurse himself as best he could. The next morning it would start all over again, until Kanryu determined he'd exhausted his usefulness as that, too.
And then he'd simply been carried away and dumped on the riverbank.
There was no salve left to apply but her fingers kept tracing over his skin, trying to read the history written there. The lamplight flickered and danced, outlining muscle and bone. She tasted salt on her lips.
"…mistress?"
He was asking her something, even if he didn't quite dare voice the question. Triumph flared in her. And pain, to be so happy for such a small thing. She wiped her eyes and started wrapping him up again.
"Kanryu has relinquished title on you," she said, not quite certain why, except that Megumi had told her it was good to explain things and she wanted him to know. "Do you understand what that means?"
She fastened the new bandages into place. He had frozen as she spoke, and she thought that maybe she was learning to read him, a little, because it seemed to her that there was terror underneath it.
"Turn and face me. I need to do your arms, now."
And even in that terror he obeyed with a fluid grace that hurt her heart to see.
She'd asked Megumi what, exactly, Kanryu had made Kenshin do. Megumi had told her that he'd been a guard and only that; when Kanryu left the compound he had taken Kenshin with him, but when Kanryu was in residence Kenshin was left to wander the grounds and deal with any trespassers. He'd slept in Kanryu's room, hidden behind a screen, and when Kaoru had asked Megumi how she knew that the older woman had gotten that frozen, faraway look, and Kaoru hadn't needed to be told.
And… Megumi had hesitated, then. Sometimes, he had Kenshin perform. For guests. Like you'd show off a trained animal, only with swordsmanship.
Rage stiffened her fingers and they slipped, her bare knuckles barking against a half-healed scrape.
"I'm sorry. My fingers slipped." She looked up into his eyes – those startling blue eyes, shading into violet like a winter sunrise – and wanted to cry.
Megumi hadn't understood. She had known, obscurely, that something about those performances was as bad as all the rest, sensed it through some mutual bond between masters even of vastly different domains. But she hadn't understood, because she had never handled a sword in her life, so how could she?
How could she understand what it was to take the core of his being, what should be his pride and glory, and turn it into a show, a trick that he performed – roll over, sit, beg, head-strike, body-strike…
Blasphemy.
She made herself steel as she finished bandaging his arms, winding herself with control as she wound his limbs with cloth. Then she slid the second tray in front of him and stood.
"As Kanryu has relinquished title to you," she said through numb lips, thanking the long years of discipline that helped her do it and hating herself for tainting them with this, "I have claimed it. You are mine. You will wear my crest, obey me and no other. Do you understand, Kenshin?"
She looked down at him, chanting be steel, be steel, be iron and stone through the static in her head and the pain in her heart and praying that he wouldn't see the truth written in her eyes.
He stared at the tray for a long moment – the neatly folded clothing stamped with the Kamiya crest (her father's formal wear from when he was younger, and she prayed his spirit would understand); the arm guards, similarly emblazoned; and the wooden sword balanced carefully atop it. Not a true sword. Because she was herself and she would not have a member of her household bearing live steel.
Then he bowed and she remembered that moment in the bathhouse, the first time he had called her mistress: his absolute surrender and the deathlike peace within it, the cold comfort of a man finally letting water into his lungs.
"Yes, mistress."
"One other thing."
And this wasn't in the script she'd worked out with Megumi on that endless walk home, but she added it because there were some pieces of herself she would not sacrifice. She crouched in front of him, one knee resting on the floor so that she was still a few fingers taller than him.
"Look at me."
He raised his head.
"I know why Kanryu abandoned you," she said quietly. "I don't care. You have value to me. You don't need to know why," and that was perhaps the most terrible lie ever to pass her lips, but Megumi had said he that wouldn't understand and she had to trust Megumi to lead her through the darkness ahead. "All you need to know is that you do. You will always have value to me. I swear it on my family name and my own honor. This is your home now, and forever, no matter what happens. Do you understand?"
The lamp-oil crackled and the leaves in the courtyard rustled softly. He stared up at her, eyes wide, and there was that stark, human vulnerability again, a brief flash of self and longing.
"…this worthless one understands, mistress." It was barely more than a whisper.
"Good."
She stood up again. "Now, get some sleep. First thing in the morning, I want you to go to the bathhouse and give yourself a good scrubbing and a proper soak; Megumi says you should be up for more than a lick and promise, so it's time you did. Don't worry about the bandages – you're nearly healed as it is. I'll redo them if it's needed. And then…" she paused for a moment. She usually woke an hour or so after dawn and every day that he'd been here, he'd been awake before her. "If I'm not up by the time you're done, wait in the kitchen. We'll go over your duties there."
"Yes, mistress."
"Goodnight, Kenshin. I'll see you in the morning."
Kaoru left him without looking over her shoulder. She took a bath, and scrubbed until her skin was red and aching. She went into her room. She changed into her sleeping clothes. She got into bed. And then she stared at the ceiling for a long, long time, and did not weep.