Author's Note : Many thanks to my reviewers !
Chapter 3 kindly and efficiently betaed by Scarred Sword Heart.
Many faces, One soul. Chapter 3
Kenshin didn't know what to think about Mutou Toshinori. The man was a walking contradiction; chatting endlessly about meaningless things, and then suddenly discussing about rather deep subjects in a fascinating way. His callous hands and the controlled grace of his gestures betrayed the fine fighter he was. The control he had displayed in his aura before indicated that he was probably a ninja. Kenshin had on a few occasions confronted these particulars fighters, and he had grown wary of their cunning methods.
"What do you mean?" Kenshin frowned.
"You know you'll have to infiltrate Yagami-san's circle. It's the kind of mission which can take a long time," answered Mutou. "You'll have to interact with others, while remaining as inconspicuous as you can." He took a look over the young man critically. "And by inconspicuous, I mean not throwing icy glares around and giving everybody the creeps."
Kenshin glowered.
"See? You're too predictable," sighed the older man, shaking his head.
Then, slowly, Mutou put his hand under his gi and pulled a sheet of paper. He unrolled it on the floor, and, with a small pencil, wrote few characters on the center. "Acting requires preparation. You need to believe in what you say to others in order to be believed. The lie is powerful when it has been built upon the truth."
Mutou leaned backward and gestured to invite Kenshin to take a look.
"Tree village?"
"That's right, Kimura-kun. That's your name from now on."
Kenshin gaped a second, then shrugged helplessly.
He felt a bit overwhelmed by all this stuff. He wasn't used to the idea of purposely deceiving people. Yet, he knew well that he wasn't the cold-blooded and ruthless warrior that everyone thought him to be. The mask of the Battousai helped him to deal with the deeds done in the name of duty. Under it remained the core of his true self, of the idealistic young boy who had stumbled one rainy day upon the Kiheitai. He thought he had lost him once, in the dark streets of Kyoto and under the flow of blood. Then, white plum, bloodied snow and the cross-shaped scar had engraved and steeled his resolve to not let himself drown in madness.
"I guess that sounds fine," Kenshin said dubiously.
"Now, tell me boy, what kind of person is this Kimura Kenshin-kun?"Mutou asked, sounding genuinely interested.
"He is inconspicuous."
"Sure! What else?"
"He doesn't draw any attention."
"Okay I get that already." There was a chided edge in Mutou's tone. "Be creative."
Kenshin rubbed thoughtfully his chin, a bit lost.
"He's young, so everyone will think he is inexperienced?"
Mutou grinned. "Will he be really?"
"I think, but he is moderately gifted with a blade. Won't raise any eyebrow when he will be introduced as the new bodyguard."
"Good, and about his scar?"
Kenshin paused, troubled.
"I don't know, can it fit with the inexperienced part?"
"Well, with a bit of imagination…" Mutou tilted his head to the side, and teased: "Maybe a story involving a beautiful woman and a jealous rival? You're pretty enough to gather the notice of the fair sex, after all."
Kenshin suddenly felt cold.
Truth shaping the lie…
He stood up without answering, and walked across the room to pick up Tomoe's shawl neatly folded on the floor.
He draped the fabric reverently around his frail shoulders. The familiar gesture comforted him. Closing his eyes, he could imagine her protecting and forgiving arms around him. He took few breaths before turning back and resuming his place in front of the other man.
Mutou was eyeing him sharply, seemingly interested.
"Silence can be an answer; it will lead people to assume things and fills in the gaps themselves. You'll have to determine which part of your story you wish to keep in shadows. Yet, you have to be able to answer every question credibly if the need arises, boy. Be prepared."
On the sheet, around the kanjis of Kimura, he scribbled other characters. He pointed on the word Past.
"The past is only the landscape." Then, he gestured on the next word. "A persona is based upon other things, like nature, a particular and consistent way with which you'll interact with other."
His rich voice adopted this distinctive hint of deepness when he said something obscure, yet significant.
"An entirely different demeanor is more efficient than new features. Before long, people think of you as how you behave, not about how you look. The deceiving part is how you'll be able to lead them to look at your inner and fabricated new face."
Kenshin nodded. This resonated strongly with his earlier thoughts about his Battousai's identity.
"And that new face is constructed upon values and motivations. About how what you believe is right, and about what future you fight for."
Kenshin stared. It was startling how this whole thing kept throwing him off balance. He was not used to such introspection. Usually, he avoided thinking too long about his situation, in a defensive way. His original reasons to fight were idealistic and naïve ones, and they were not strong enough to keep him sane from the mass murders he found himself committing night after night. His mind had been shaken terribly under the pressure, and he would have been broken eventually. A year and a half, though, his reason was simpler, less selfless.
The vows he had made to Katsura-san and to Tomoe that he would lend his blade until the end of the war and stay alive. Tomoe's death must not be in vain.
"… not have to keep to the act for months. It's useless to work on Kimura's personality heavily." Kenshin jerked out of his dark musings when Mutou poked him hard on the head, eyes narrowed. "Are you listening, baka?"
"Sorry, Mutou-san." He bowed stiffly, his hand rubbing his skull.
"You better pay attention! You're obviously not aware of the honor of being the private student of the great Mutou Toshinori! Many would kill to be in your place!" His voice was loud, and his ki radiated arrogance and self-importance.
And then unexpectedly, his aura was suppressed again, leaving a hole in Kenshin's mental landscape.
"Tell me, boy, this morning, back in the garden, why did you stop your kata this suddenly?" Mutou's entire demeanor has changed in a heartbeat. He was back to his collected self.
Puzzled, Kenshin took few seconds before answering cautiously: "You were breathing, but I couldn't feel your ki and it had bothered me."
"Precisely, and that was my intention." Mutou grinned before continuing, "You're a fine warrior, the best of the best, and your ki sense is very sharp and controlled. To be able to conceal your aura all the time like you do is an exploit in itself."
Kenshin blinked and bowed slightly, awkwardly accepting the compliment.
"Many warriors can perceive ki. It's highly suspicious when you're not revealing anything. I don't know if you're aware of that, but with concentration and training, you can manipulate your aura to let it express only what you want to communicate."
The young swordsman remained silent, musing about the implication of what he had just learned. In a battle, not allowing your opponent to know your intentions was vital. But if in addition the ability to lure and deceive your enemy by using your ki as a feint…
I wonder if shishou knows about this?
"The trick is to let a faint layer of emotions cover yourself to add weight to your act, just like make-up." Then Mutou's face twisted, eyes suddenly teary, lips trembling and ki radiating utter despair. Kenshin just couldn't suppress the pity that sprouted unexpectedly in him. It was quite baffling.
"Oh, I see. It's… impressive," said Kenshin, genuinely.
"I'll teach you that, it's not very difficult, but it needs a disciplined mind and a strong will. Now close your eyes and show me what you're capable of."
A few hours later, Kenshin was nursing a harsh migraine throbbing behind his eyes. He rubbed the nape of his neck tiredly. His mind was filled with the new elements of Kimura's persona, which were developed during the afternoon; and the concentration needed to maintain a veil of harmlessness around him was taking a heavy toll.
Mutou yawned, rather soundly, and got back on his feet with a fluid motion. "It's dinner time, boy. I think we both deserve a good meal to restore ourselves… especially me!"
Kenshin didn't even bother to glare at him. He merely nodded, and stood with graceful slowness. He took few steps across the room while stretching his back.
"Now is a good time to test your ability, boy. I'll know tonight if you are worthy of the time I spent on you. We'll see how long you can keep yourself unknown during the meal. If you can also engage a discussion with a comrade, make him look at your face and remain unrecognized, I will praise your name in front of Katsura-san," he said gleefully, bouncing on his feet.
Kenshin pinched the bridge of his nose before answering, "You are tiresome, old man."
Then, he waved his hand with a casual gesture which could pass for an assent, and headed toward the outer shoji. He slid it wide open, breathing deeply the cool dusk air, before jumping smoothly over the guardrail.
Kenshin landed silently in the empty side street. The night was slowly claiming reign over the city, and plunging everything into profound shadows. He felt at ease here, where no one could see him. Darkness and he were well acquainted. He could easily engulf himself in its friendly embrace. In the dark, there was no color, only shades of black and grey.
No unforgiving red.
Straightening the folds of his hakama, he passed his right hand through the soft dark strands of his ponytail, before delicately removing Tomoe's scarf. He secured the piece of silk inside his gi.
Soon, he would have to hide in plain sight, behind a fabricated demeanor and a false persona. He could not say he was made for bluntness, but he was not comfortable with this whole mind tricks game. He was not happy with the idea of adding 'manipulative bastard' to his 'cold-blooded murderer' tag.
Otherwise, Mutou's lecture was fascinating. It seemed that to be a fine manipulator, you had to know a lot about human mind in general and about yourself in particular. The other was like a fun house mirror, with definitely strong similarities, but also very insoluble discrepancies. Kenshin could learn a lot about it, since he had gained the necessary maturity to admit the importance of self-questioning.
Lost in his thoughts, Kenshin slowly made his way toward the main entrance of Okami's inn. Cheerful sounds of laughter and loud conversations were erupting intermittently from behind the shoji. Kenshin quickly glanced into the common room, assessing the situation. It was not packed yet, and the ruckus was made by a group of men betting and playing. Kenshin has crossed his path few times with most of them.
The young man carefully stepped into the inn. Focusing, he filled his aura with unease and awkwardness.
No one paid attention to him.
It was quite unnerving, for someone used to sudden heavy silence at each of his appearances.
He paused, and let his face mold into a lost expression. He could feel that acting was in fact much easier when he concentrated on tuning his ki with body language.
He cautiously made his way into the room, changing directions several times like he didn't know where to sit.
Bench in the way.
Mutou had better be right, otherwise I think I'll have to get revenge for a ruined reputation.
He tripped, and in a loud crash, pushed violently a table aside before landing on the floor in a very ungraceful manner.