A/N: I took some liberties in designating Hanya, Hyottoko, and Beshimi's hometown because I don't think they were very clear in the anime and the manga. As for Shikijou, he supposedly came from the ancient province of Satsuma, as was said in the anime and manga, but I changed it into Kagoshima because that's what Satsuma was renamed into and became part of after the Meiji Restoration.
Furthermore, I'm basing this fic's Oniwabanshuu history on RK's own Oniwabanshuu history and my cooked-up Droid War from Nobuhiro Watsuki's rendition of the Boshin Civil War of Japan, just enough so that people would still be able to recognize the similarities between this fic and the historic foundations of Rurouni Kenshin (I'll give the examples later; I don't wanna spoil). BUT I'd like to forewarn people (those who may not to be too familiar with the historic foundations Nobuhiro Watsuki used for RuroKen) that I also deliberately made some noticeble inaccuracies, just so that I can still call this fic my own. Poetic licence, you know? ^^
Oh yes, I also made a few changes in the first few chapters. Nothing too major, but I realized I made a few mistakes and hasty conclusions.
Chapter Four
Aoshi stared pensively at the switches he flicked on the roof of the cockpit. A red light turned on, signaling that the ship's computer had been activated. The smooth panel in front of him glowed, showing the main controls of the ship, ready to execute his command at the slightest touch. His hands flew over the controls swiftly and he could almost feel the energion particles being directed from their power core to the propulsion engines as the ship hummed.
Hanya was walking up the ramp leading to the open hatch of the ship, carrying a heavy box of hydro-equipment. He paused at the passageway leading to the spacious cockpit and asked Aoshi, "Are you sure of bringing the girl with us?"
"She's the only one who knows the way, isn't she?" Aoshi was absentmindedly checking the gauges for the system reports of the ship, but Hanya thought he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself.
"But leaving our astrometric navigation in her hands? Isn't that a little...rash?" Hanya shifted the box to his other shoulder. "I'm not judging anything, Captain, but she is a bounty hunter that you sold, and she has every reason to plot some sort of extracurricular activity that can endanger us."
"Perhaps." Aoshi's voice sounded cold and far away as he peered at the readings.
"And I think you may have reason to feel uncomfortable with that, Captain?" Hanya sounded cautious but sure.
Aoshi appeared not have heard him. "Our lumbar shields need a few adjustments since our encounter with the Dr'kkev; tell Shikijou to have it fixed."
Hanya picked this cue as the end of the conversation. "Aye, captain."
As Hanya's footfalls clanked farther and farther away as the tall co-pilot made his way toward the cargo hold, Aoshi leaned back on his seat, the sight of the hangar of his mining system filling his eyes. His face was unmoving, but there seemed to be an inner conflict raging in his eyes as he sat there in stony silence.
"Mr. Shinomori?"
Aoshi blinked and swiveled his chair. Misao stood there, her belt of knives confidently around her waist, her braided hair flung over her left shoulder, one hand on her hip and the other carrying the cartograph Sodojima had given them. "I am ready to plot out our course to Nazran 17," she said, her voice crisp and businesslike.
Aoshi motioned to the co-pilot's seat beside him. "Sit down and do what you have to."
Misao complied, slipping smoothly into the seat that was much too big for her. She unrolled the cartograph and activated the astrometric panel on the switchboard, but before she began her work, she turned her head to face Aoshi and said, "Mr. Shinomori, I can't help but notice that you are rather... edgy of our having to work together..."
"That is irrelevant to our mission," shrugged Aoshi, his voice suggesting the closure of the subject, but Misao would not have it. "...and I understand," she continued, as if Aoshi had not spoken.
Aoshi cocked his head, watching Misao with some mild curiosity, if not with a little contempt.
"I merely wish to say that this is purely a business deal among you, myself, and Mr. Shishio," she said, her voice slow and measured. "All I want is to get it over with, and I'm sure that is what you would also prefer."
Aoshi wondered why her language had suddenly grown so refined and so impersonally distant overnight. It was a complete polarity from her personality the night before, and strangely, it had an odd, attractive quality to it. She certainly had grown since their initial meeting a year ago.
"So I would just like to erase the slate, so to speak, and start over," she was saying carefully. "I would be willing to forget what you had done to me one year ago, and to say upon my word that I am not going to attempt any sort of revenge on you. I hope that you would think of me the same way and would have no reason for doubt."
There was a pause long enough for Aoshi to realize that it was his turn to speak. "I have accepted that since I was first informed of this mission," he finally said dryly. "As you have said, this is a purely professional cooperation, nothing more. There is no need to remind me."
Misao smiled, startling Aoshi. "I'm glad to hear that. We're only following orders, aren't we, Mr. Shinomori?"
"For you, perhaps," he said icily, hoping that she had not noticed how his face had tightened at the smile. "As for me, this is a business profit to be taken advantage of. This is my decision."
"That Mr. Shishio had suggested, I believe."
Aoshi caught how she had stressed the word with some subtext that he did not like. "Plot our course," he said tonelessly.
"Very well." Misao spread the cartograph on her lap and her fingers played with the controls, mapping the vector points to be recognized by the ship on its journey to the first planet. She was deft, responding to each beep and whistle the panel presented.
"You know the path well to an unknown place such as the Kunggan Circle," Aoshi said with some amusement.
"I am a bounty hunter, Mr. Shinomori," said Misao, not looking up. "I'm supposed to know things that people normally don't." She pressed the last button and the computer emulated cheerfully, "Course mapped." Misao looked up and gave him the cartograph. "In case you want to check it."
Misao's eyes seemed to be challenging him to do so, and Aoshi, with the same degree of defiance in his eyes, replied with a trace of mockery, "It should suffice as it is."
"Very well," she said again, placing the cartograph on top of the panel. "I will be in my quarters if you need me, Mr. Shinomori." She rose.
Aoshi inclined his head as an acknowledgement and turned to his controls to ready the ship to take off. He sensed Misao linger before she left the cockpit.
He heard the thruster engines rumble as he pulled the walkway back and closed the hatch from where he sat, pushing buttons and turning a series of dials on the switchboard. He sat back and crossed his legs as the ship rose on the air smoothly, hovered, then sped gracefully away from the docking bay on cruising speed before it flew towards the sky and burst through the atmosphere and into normal space. After checking the sensor radars for any signs of irregular subspace layers or spaceholes and finding none, he set the course Misao had mapped and the ship launched into warpspeed.
"You sent a diner cook to act as the executive of your mining system."
It was only a communication video link onscreen his private compartment, but Aoshi could almost see the disbelief in Shishio's eyes. "As far as I'm concerned, Shishio," he answered, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice, "Kenshin Himura would make a better executive than any of your lackeys."
"But a cook?!"
"You've started keeping tabs on him, I suppose?"
"Of course." Shishio waved a bandaged hand. "He's harmless; doesn't know a thing about the League or any of your connections, as I suspected. But you must trust him very much to have him take over your place."
"Temporarily. As to whether I trust him, the most I could say is that I trust him a thousand times more than I would ever trust Kanryuu Takeda in this lifetime, at least."
"You must excuse me for being surprised."
"I have no concern as to what your reaction is."
"Oh well, it's your mining system. At least nominally." Shishio gave a leery grin. "For your sake, I hope your little cook knows what he's doing. It will be the League's funds he'll be using to mess around with the system's stocks and bonds, albeit unknowingly."
"He knows what he's doing," said Aoshi, shrugging.
"So much for that." Shishio rubbed his hands and Aoshi could not help but feel a little disturbed at seeing how purposefully Shishio did so. "How is the Makimachi girl?"
"Tolerable."
"Any of a bother?"
"Just something to get used to."
Shishio chuckled with a trace of something that Aoshi could not quite put his finger on. "Ten planets in the Kunggan Circle, Aoshi; you will get used to her."
"Would you like to explain how you can afford to trust her so much as to send me with her prospecting energion lodes?" asked Aoshi coldly.
"Don't doubt so much on the League, Aoshi. You should know that by now. Of course, we provided a little collateral security for our own welfare." Shishio took a malevolent puff from his pipe.
Aoshi braced himself silently with dread. Everytime Shishio said something about collateral security, it was bound to produce revulsion.
"We managed to locate...well, perhaps what you would call a group of her bounty hunter colleagues. But they are apparently more than just colleagues, this ragtag gang which was a remnant of the Oniwabanshuu militia of some sort during the Droid War. They're 'family' to her." Shishio uncrossed his legs languidly. "To put it simply, we have our people with laser cannons on this 'family' of hers, within firing sight, in case Makimachi doesn't send you to the correct locations of the raw energion veins she claimed she knew."
Aoshi stared at Shishio grimly. "I see. So this was what she called an offer she couldn't refuse. She must be regretting her little conversation with Seta back at the Ceruloid's."
"She wanted company and she spoke too much; she brought it to herself." Shishio took another puff carelessly. "We, as tradesmen, merely took the opportunity."
"Indeed." Aoshi's voice was contemptuous.
"Don't be so preposterously self-righteous, Aoshi; I'm not the only sinner here." Shishio pulled out a chronometer from the folds of his lounging robe. "I have something to attend to now; I'll see you when you come back."
Before Aoshi could say anything, the screen went blank and he was alone in his silent room once more. His tea was on the small table beside his bed.
"Check."
Hyottoko crossed his massive, fleshy arms on the chess table, frowning at Beshimi's move. "Swore I didn't see that coming."
"That's the point," chuckled Beshimi, leaning back and folding his arms satisfactorily as he watched the holographic chess pieces projected on the tabletop.
"But I bet you didn't see this one either," continued Hyottoko slyly, tapping something on the computer by his side. One of the figurines moved with the direction of an L, approaching a piece and disintegrating it before resting on the square. "Check you, Beshimi."
"I'm still in for the little fellow," said Hanya good-naturedly, pouring himself a glass of red liquid from a flask as his lanky frame leaned on the edge of the embrasure. "He still has a couple of good tricks on his sleeve. I should know."
Shikijou gave a guttural laugh as he veered his view from the system readouts on the panel he was examining in the lounge room. "I guess we're tied on that bet, Hanya."
Beshimi scrutinized the chess figurines waiting patiently for his move. "Could we do a tag team here?"
Hyottoko's guffaw caught Misao as she walked past the area. She stopped at the sound and bent back to watch and her eyes lit up at the chess game and the stand-off between Beshimi and Hyottoko.
"May I?" she asked before she could stop herself.
The laughter faded as all eyes redirected to the sound of her voice. There was a heavy silence, but it was not of hostility; it was more of a mild curiosity from the seasoned pirates who stood in that room staring at the bold bounty hunter.
Hanya was the nearest to her, making only the slightest movement to look at her. After a thoughtful pause, he shrugged and from his grotesque mask came the first sign of welcome that Misao received the moment she stepped into Seiryuu, the ship: "If you can do something to save my bet on Beshimi, then the floor's yours, bounty hunter."
Misao tried to suppress the grin that was starting to spread on her face as she walked towards the table. She bent down and sat on her ankles, her index finger tapping her chin as she mused over the configuration of the chess pieces, her brow wrinkled.
"Well," she finally said, "it's true he's got you boxed in and out into a stalemate, but he was also counting on you not being able to spot this little flaw here..." Misao tapped a command on the monitor and a figurine Bishop moved to its designated place, eliciting a surprised but resigned grunt from Hyottoko. "Checkmate,...er..."
"Hyottoko. His name is Hyottoko," Shikijou supplied tonelessly, but Misao could see a spark of geniality in his eyes amid the drastic scars pockmarked on his face. "You play well, bounty hunter."
"I learned to play at home, with my friends in Kyoto," said Misao, glad at the opening.
"Kyoto, the Old City?" Beshimi repeated, shutting down the chess game and throwing a glance with his cat-like eyes at his comrades. "That's the city that was one of the last few defenses against the Confederacy during the Droid War, wasn't it?"
"It was," answered Misao as the holograms dissipated.
"I'm Hanya, from NeoTokyo," said the co-pilot unexpectedly, coming closer. His voice was still guarded but it was open. "Shikijou is from Kagoshima. And that is Beshimi and Hyottoko, both from Yokohama."
"And Captain Shinomori?" Misao could not help asking.
"Apparently, both of you have something in common," answered Hanya. "Kyoto too was his hometown."
Misao's eyes widened. "Really?"
"In the days of the Droid War, he was assigned to guard the energion plant in Kyoto," Hyottoko began, but seeing the warning look in Shikijou's eyes, he faltered and ended lamely, "...but the war was the war."
"That's strange," said Misao, frowning. "Okina was part of the group who was assigned to guard the Kyoto energion plant too, ten years ago. But I never heard him say anything about someone called Shinomori..."
"Who's Okina?" asked Shikijou curiously.
"Oh," said Misao hastily, "he's a good friend of mine, from back home."
"A bounty hunter too, like yourself?"
"We pretty much are," said Misao cautiously. "It's a living."
Both sides knew that each of them was hiding something from the other, but they kept quiet. They were here to work together, not to pry at each other's affairs.
"Well," said Misao, breaking the silence and standing up, "I must be going now. I told Captain Shinomori I'd be in my quarters if he needed me."
The other nodded their acknowledgement without a word. After the bounty hunter left, Hanya came over to his friends, edging away his mask away from his mouth to empty his glass.
"Okina, eh?" he said, placing the cup on the table. "Now there's a name we haven't heard of in years."
Misao stood behind the wall of the open passageway, hearing every word that Hanya had said. She bowed her head.
Her caretaker Okina, who had adopted her when she was an orphan into the Oniwabanshuu, had told her many times the story of the battle for Kyoto's energion plant in the War that occurred ten years ago when she was only eight. The Oniwabanshuu, the group of bounty hunters she now called her family, used to be a secret militia regiment of the former Galactic Monarchy; it was located in Kyoto and was assigned to serve as the rangers of the city and its energion plant, Kyoto's main source of power. Then the revolution broke out, riotous outbursts clamoring for the overthrowing of the monarchy and the establishment of an Interstellar Confederacy. The rebellions grew in number until it completely manifested into the Droid War, and the Oniwabanshuu was ordered by the monarchy to serve with their life as the defense of the energion plant of Kyoto. Power plants were the only source of power for the civilians, and to seize them would be to seize the cities that depended on them.
At that time, Okina had just handed down his leadership of the Oniwabanshuu to a young lad of eighteen he trusted to become his successor. This man took his position of commander with pride, and his first operation for the Oniwabanshuu would be to commandeer the defense system of the Kyoto enerigon plant against the forces of the rebels. He was ready and eager to prove the worthiness of the militia; he knew that Kyoto was one of the last remaining defenses the monarchy had against the revolution due to the vast armies of warrior droids the rebels had invented and manufactured illegally, and this new commander took this challenge with relish. He spent sleepless months preparing for the attack, coordinating the reports of the spy network of the Oniwabanshuu with his defense tactics against the imminent onslaught of the rebels.
But the attack never came. The monarchy, overcome by their fear of the number of rebel droids who would later hunt them down, decided to surrender to the leaders of the revolution before they began the attack on Kyoto. The commander of the Oniwabanshuu was shocked and disgraced by the order that came from his superior officers: to willingly cede the energion plant to the rebels. He did so, calmly obeying orders, but Okina knew he was broiling with rage over the cowardice of the monarchy and of losing to the rebels without a fight. The monarchy was overthrown and the Confederacy was established; the former monarchial forces, such as Oniwabanshuu, were officially abolished from the government to be replaced by precinct peacekeepers, and the Oniwabanshuu was out of work. Gradually, the Oniwabanshuu members left the group to start new lives. Those who still considered themselves Oniwabanshuu, however, became bounty hunters, and remained in Kyoto located in their old headquarters, the Aoiya. Believing they were still responsible for the peace of the city, no matter in which government, they hunted down with their superb skills wanted criminals, handing them to the peacekeepers in exchange for the bounty to feed themselves.
And what happened to the commander? Misao would ask her grandfather, as she had been too young to understand and to remember when all this had happened.
At the question, Okina's face would darken and merely say that the commander left with his own companions for Tokyo, and that was all Okina would say. He would not even mention the commander's name.
Misao kept her head bowed, a barrage of thoughts attacking her. Could this Shinomori be that unnamed one, the one whom she had admired, since she was a child, despite Okina's disapproval? Hyottoko had mentioned with the slip of his tongue that Shinomori had been assigned in the defense of the Kyoto plant, and she had caught the look that the scarred one, Shikijou, had given him: it was a touchy matter not to be discussed with strangers. This had set her thinking of the crazy possibility that she was in the same ship with her role model. Shinomori's age was just about right, and she knew he was intelligent and courageous enough to lead a defense as commander against a ferocious droid attack.
But if he had been an Oniwabanshuu, why was he now working with the Underground Trade League, as one Shishio's higher men even? Surely an Oniwabanshuu had more dignity than to sink into that kind of degradation?
Watch it now, she told herself. You're working for Shishio too, aren't you, in this cooperation to guide Aoshi Shinomori to the Kunggan Circle? And don't you claim to be Oniwabanshuu too?
But I'm doing it for the protection of the Oniwabanshuu, she protested. That's an entirely different thing and that justifies it, right? Doesn't it?
Misao sat down and crossed her arms over her knees. She leaned her head on the wall, wishing she was at home in Kyoto right now.
chapter four, end