Explanation for the longish update time: My puppy chewed my laptop battery charger the day after I posted the last chapter, therefore making my computer unable to boot since the battery is unable to hold a charge and is dead dead dead. So then I had to order a new charger which took a week to get here, and by then I was bogged down with extra rehearsals for Easter, and blah blah blah. Hopefully back on track now.
Um . . . yeah, my muse died somewhat on this chapter, but things should pick back up in the next chapter or two. This in between stuff is tough to write.
Kenshin's movement was severely limited after that eventful morning. He wasn't sure what words had passed between Yoshinobu and the citizens of Ishibe, but when he was awoken by the rough jostling of wheels rolling over uneven road, Kenshin knew they had left the post town. If the brightness streaming into the covered wagon was anything to go by, either he'd been unconscious for more than a day−unlikely−or they hadn't stayed long.
Kenshin found he was again tied hand and foot, although he wasn't covered by a sack, and strangely there was no gag in his mouth. The rope around his arms was pressing into one of the small burns he'd acquired, and Kenshin began shrugging his shoulders in an effort to redistribute the pressure. He heard a faint rustle from nearby in and Kenshin's eyes moved to the source of the sound. He saw Kaga, his hand touching the hilt of his sword in warning. Kenshin almost didn't recognize the man because his face was so badly bruised and swollen.
"You're going to be in those ropes until we reach Edo." Kaga said matter-of-factly, seeming to speak without trouble despite his injuries. "One fire burning down half a post town is already more attention than we want." Well, Kenshin guessed he should have expected something like that. Still, the knowledge that the ropes would be biting into him for an unspecified amount of time−he really wasn't sure how long it took to get to Edo−was enough to bring a cloud of despair over his thoughts. He'd been so close.
Kenshin tried to swallow the ashy taste pervading his mouth but his dry throat refused to cooperate. "Could I have some water, please?" He asked hoarsely. Politeness couldn't hurt.
"You want water?" Kaga said softly. "You run away from me, start a fire, and you want water? This is what Jisaemon did to me because of you!" He stabbed a finger at his swollen face.
"I'm sorry." Kenshin offered uselessly, wishing anyone but Kaga was with him right now. "I just wanted to leave! I didn't mean for you to be punished."
"Of course you didn't." Kaga sneered. "But you know what? I'm a forgiving person. I'll give you some water. For a price."
Kenshin wasn't sure he'd like the price but he was desperate for water. "What?" The words were hardly out of his mouth when one of Kaga's feet met his side, catching under his ribs. Somehow Kenshin managed to keep from crying out but when Kaga followed up with a punch to his temple, Kenshin couldn't help the sharp cry that escaped him. He managed not to pass out, even though hundreds of strobe lights danced in front of him. He felt blood trickle onto his cheek, and from somewhere far away heard Kaga speaking. Something about conditions and being lucky, but Kenshin couldn't follow it all because his head was reeling.
Then he felt as if he was being drowned in a waterfall, and as he coughed and spluttered Kenshin realized Kaga was done with his petty revenge and was pouring water onto his face. "Open your mouth, damnit." Kaga snapped.
Kenshin obeyed, and sweet liquid poured into his mouth. It was lukewarm, and soaking his clothes as it splashed everywhere, but Kenshin didn't care. The horrible taste in his mouth was fading, and even though it hurt his throat to swallow, the water made him feel better in general. Kaga stoppered the flask far too soon for Kenshin. "No more until we stop again. I'm not cleaning up piss." Kaga sat back down and leveled a watchful gaze at his charge, and for the rest of the journey not a word passed between them.
The wagon ground to a stop just as daylight began to fade. Kaga roused himself then, and with methodical care he bent over Kenshin, tying a gag around his mouth before covering him with the scratchy brown sack. "Don't move." He instructed. The command was frustratingly hard to obey, as Kenshin's bruised side protested with the rough movement. It didn't help either that he'd had to go to the bathroom for some time now. He hadn't said anything because he had a feeling his needs were low on the priority list.
Despite all this, Kenshin did his best not to squirm as Kaga hefted him carelessly over a shoulder and jumped from the wagon, causing unpleasant sensations throughout Kenshin's body. They waited there for a minute, and Kenshin heard voices close by, talking steadily. The voices ceased and someone must have beckoned because Kaga's shoulder moved under Kenshin.
Kenshin sensed when they moved inside: the soft spring breeze died abruptly and the outside sounds became muted. A sickly-sweet smell filled his nose, as if someone had tried to cover a bad aroma with perfume. After what seemed an eternity Kenshin was dropped to the ground and his side flared with pain. As he wheezed to catch his breath Kaga pulled the sack off of him.
They were in a sparse room, with only a small wooden table as decoration. An unlit lantern sat in the middle of the table, looking lonely. Cheaply woven tatmi mats covered the floor, and door that led to the balcony didn't quite slide completely shut. "Thanks to you this was the best we could get." Kaga spoke, prodding Kenshin in a way that made him remember he really had to go to the bathroom. He was wondering how he could convey this when Kaga pulled the gag from his mouth. Ignoring the pain this caused his split cheek Kenshin parted his lips to speak but caught himself when Kaga pointed a finger at him.
"I'll be more than happy to use this if you give me an excuse." Kaga patted his sword. "Oh, and if you utter even one word, Jisaemon said he'll do more than just choke you silly." At this point Kenshin was willing to take that chance.
"I have to pee!" He stage whispered. Kaga stared at him, then rolled his eyes.
"Great, of course you do." He turned and left the room without another word and returned shortly, carrying a shallow pot. Setting the pot on the floor, he propped Kenshin on his knees and reached for the tie to his hakama. Kenshin tried to jerk away but Kaga shook him roughly. "Look kid, I don't like this any more than you, but I've been ordered not to untie you for anything, so either let me take your clothes off or you can wet yourself for all I care." Kenshin stopped struggling but his face was red with humiliation. When he had finished Kaga stood with a vindictive smile, leaving Kenshin's undergarments pulled down. "I think that should encourage you not to try going anywhere. Even if you figured out how to move, tied like that." And with a smirk, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Kenshin feeling very alone in the growing darkness.
***
The thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi sat against a wall of his hut, staring at the flames that danced before his half-lidded eyes. Nights were still cool in March, and the fire in Hiko's hut crackled strongly, warming the tiny dwelling from the light spring winds that still held some of winter's chill. Four jars lay cast on the floor near Hiko's side, their moisture-darkened rims testament to a secondary method of warmth; warmth that was far more satisfactory than any flame.
As he let the flames hypnotize his less-than-sober mind, Hiko's thoughts spun circles. He told himself he could care less that his deshi had quit on him. He could carry on just fine, like he had before he'd taken on an unappreciative student; before he'd had to listen to childish prattle; before he'd had another mouth to feed. Hiko admitted he was somewhat disappointed he had no one to run his errands and cook for him. And he had enjoyed bestowing his life philosophies and the principles of Hiten Mitsurugi on Kenshin. As recent circumstances proved though, obviously the brat hadn't been listening to a word he'd said.
And that, as he'd been telling himself for the past several hours, was exactly why it was best that the boy had left. There was little chance that Kenshin would wise up enough to see the error of his ways−Hiko had watched the boy practicing enough to know that Kenshin was about as bullheaded as they came. If a move didn't work for him the first time, he would try it a variety of ways until he succeeded, or wore himself out with his efforts. It was laudable for training purposes, and Hiko would never think of discouraging it, but it seemed Kenshin approached life no differently. Barring death, the boy would keep trying to live out his naive notions no matter how many times it bit him in the ass. And if that was what it took to knock sense into him . . . so be it. Hiko had done his part. He'd held back nothing.
Perhaps I should have. Hiko smothered the bug of doubt that threatened to find some shred of guilt. Neither guilt nor self doubt did anyone any good. They both led to mistakes; and mistakes, for a swordsman, were fatal.
Hiko lifted the sake jar that was wrapped around his right hand, brought it to his lips and took a swig. Yes, guilt never did anyone any good, and he was doing his damndest to run from it right now. It wasn't something he was comfortable even alluding to, the fact that a man such as himself could ever feel such a weak emotion, but in the privacy of his own thoughts with several jars of sake for companions, stranger things could have happened.
Kenshin's actions normally bothered Hiko as much as a horse fly: annoying, yes, but hardly worth dwelling on. This time, for some strange reason, he was plagued with uncertainty about the fate of his idiot student. It was simple instinct, but Hiko had never known his instincts to lead him astray. It had only been last night that Kenshin had left and Hiko hadn't been able to shake the feeling that his deshi had walked into a spider's web. The diaphanous threads seemed beautiful and alluring until one was trapped in the sticky mess. And that's when the spider made its move, wrapping its prey so effectively there was no means of escape without help.
Hiko knew he could have stopped Kenshin's departure by brute force−should have, if his instincts were to be trusted−but the swordmaster had always been a supporter of letting Kenshin learn from his own mistakes. That was Hiko's internal predicament. Unthinkable as it was, it seemed Hiko was the one who had made the mistake. No matter how he played it out in his mind, he always came to the conclusion that in some small way, the blame for Kenshin's leaving lay with him. Of course it was absurd−Hiko Seijurou never made mistakes. He made calculated judgments, and they might seem harsh or a risky gambles a times, but they were never a mistake. It was this conflict that guilt was capitalizing on, using it to put a chink in his normally unsurpassable emotional armor.
"Baka deshi. Ruining what should be a peaceful night without even being here." Hiko grumbled. Just the fact that Kenshin had left was a passive insult, but what he'd left for . . . Just thinking about it was almost enough to send Hiko into a fit of rage. How dare Yoshinobu and Jisaemon, those two bastards, thinking they could manipulate Hiko Seijurou through his impudent student.
And how dare Kenshin! He might as well have gift-wrapped the opportunity for them, hanging on their every word and walking into their hands like that. Hiko didn't know exactly how his two acquaintances were planning to use his deshi but he was fairly certain it wouldn't be for the assassination of Ii Naosuke, the Hikone daimyou he'd been told about the previous summer. Kenshin had natural talent as a swordsman, but even a schemer like Arimura Jisaemon wouldn't be fool enough to use a mere boy for something of such importance. He had stated explicitly that Hiko was the man he wanted for such a deed.
And whether or not Hiko had made a mistake in allowing Kenshin to leave−perish the thought−here lay the crossroads. He could wait patiently, and find out secondhand what Jisaemon's intentions were. As no one had come to him with the message, "cooperate or your deshi dies," perhaps Jisaemon really was going to take the fool's road and follow through with letting Kenshin perform the assassination. If that was the case, Hiko wasn't about to interfere. Let the boy tarnish his soul if he wished.
However, intuition told him it was more likely that the sweet words Yoshinobu had fed Kenshin were just that−words. And if so, the sooner Hiko found out exactly what was going on, the better. He knew from experience that Jisaemon's plans were never half thought out−they were cunning and carefully constructed. If Kenshin was simply part of a more elaborate plan, Hiko would probably be pulled into the mess eventually anyway.
As Hiko considered what his foes could possibly have in mind, he knew for certain there was only one logical destination Jisaemon would want to go, regardless of how Kenshin figured into everything. Ii Naosuke currently resided in Edo, even as his supporters were strongly lobbying that he abandon office and leave. Jisaemon would want to get to Edo, before Naosuke could be convinced to go into hiding and become virtually invisible.
Hiko blew out a heavy breath and dropped his hands to his side, brow furrowing. He sat there for a long time, lost in thought, and only when the fire had died down to dull embers did he move, bringing the sake jar to his lips almost mechanically and draining the contents. He tossed the jar to the floor and made a motion as if to stand, then thought better of it and stretched his legs out instead, lying down and pulling his massive cloak tight around him. He let himself drift unhurriedly towards slumber, prepared to put his misgivings to rest in the morning.
Maybe morning was pushing it. Afternoon perhaps, after he'd−recovered somewhat from the night's indulgences. And with that decided, Hiko began to snore.
Maybe I should mention here that Ii Naosuke and Arimura Jisaemon were both real people. Naosuke really won't figure into things much until the very end of the story though. If you're interested you can read about both of them on wikipedia, although Jisaemon's "section" is a ridiculously short and understated blurb (two sentences?).
Plea for help!! Does anyone know why I can't get my html edits to save? Used to be I could just open a chapter in html, write in what I needed and save it, but for some reason everything I change there doesn't save anymore. Suggestions? Referals? Anything? I'm really sick of having uncentered asterisks as page breaks. It makes my brain cringe.
Thanks for reading, thanks for reviewing!
