When Sakura Blossoms Fall

Chapter 11: Aku

Beijing was in chaos. Foreign presence had thrown the capital city into a carousel of confusion; the empress had disappeared, fleeing during the heat of battle, and the grandeur of the dynasty had all but collapsed. Soldiers from overseas had pillaged and plundered and grasped every shiny coin their greedy hands could hold. And yet, for many, life in the city remained largely unchanged. Beijing held its secrets. There were those dwelling in the city who knew how to avoid these threats. There remained deep in the city places to hide, places that were yet safe from both Boxer and foreign soldier. And as one young Japanese woman with still trembling lips and worried eyes watched the lights of the fading city from the back of a creaky wagon under the cover of night, the object of her concern was fleeing to such places, unawarely placing himself in the path of one who would save this traitor's life, for reasons deeper than pity. Kenji was about to discover a link between himself and this city that he never would have anticipated.

But the dark streets of Beijing could be cruel, especially to one wearing a foreign uniform in such tumultuous times. Finding compassion would at first be difficult, and the runaway found himself spending more than one night alone, outside, under torrential rain.

"Outa! Outa, come here, I found something!"

The young man rolled his eyes before turning around to join his sister. She may have been older than him, but at times she seemed just like an overly curious and silly adolescent.

"What is it, Uki?" he asked impatiently. The woman beside him just pointed in front of her, into an alley barely touched by the early morning light. Outa followed her finger, his ebony eyes widening in surprise at what he saw.

He scratched his messy dark hair contemplatively as he crouched, raising an eyebrow. On the ground in front of the two of them, covered in dirt, soaked from the previous night's downpour, and apparently unconscious, was a soldier from the Japanese Imperial Army. He was sitting up, leaning against a wall, and what could be seen of his hair peeking from under his cap was coated with so much dirt that it was impossible to discern its original color.

Outa cleared his throat, then began to speak in flawless Japanese. "Excuse me, sir? Are you hurt?" There was no response. He gently prodded the man's foot with his own, at which the soldier groaned and turned his head toward them. Upon seeing his face, Outa could tell that he was fairly young, probably about half of a decade younger than himself. The soldier opened one eye, a rare blue color, and began to mutter angrily in Japanese.

"A runaway soldier, are you?"

Two blue eyes opened wide at that.

"You speak Japanese?"

"Obviously," Uki answered for her brother.

The soldier's eyes ignored her and shifted to Outa. "Why do you ask?" he replied suspiciously.

"There have been rumors of a traitor. Japanese soldiers have been combing the streets for days."

The soldier began to massage his eyelids with a sigh. It was nothing he hadn't already known.

"How long have you been out here?"

He cracked a bleary eye open. "I don't know . . . a few days? A week, maybe two . . ."

"Have you had anything to eat?"

The soldier shook his head.

Outa glanced both ways once to assure himself of their solitude, then extended a hand toward the recumbent man, who eyed him curiously for a moment before lifting his own arm. Outa pulled him up, throwing one of the man's arms over his shoulders and half-leading, half-dragging him down the street.

"You're going to help a traitor?" the soldier asked dubiously.

Uki smiled. "Our brother has a soft spot for your kind," she answered, "he would never forgive us if we didn't help you."

"So," Outa started, breathing more heavily now that he was partially carrying another man, "why did you leave?"

"I was betrayed," the soldier answered emotionlessly.

"Oh."

The brother and sister both watched the mysterious man somewhat warily out of the corners of their eyes. He was obviously spent, and had probably been on the run for a week at the very least. His once crisp blue uniform was wrinkled and brown, the shiny brass buttons stained with dirt. Then Outa's eyes caught sight of the weapon at his side. It wasn't the characteristic rifle and bayonet combination, but a sword.

"Where are you headed?"

The soldier shrugged. "Wherever you're taking me."

Outa smiled. "So, what's your name?"

"Himura, Himura Kenji. You?"

"Higashidani Outa, and this is my sister . . . Uki."

"Finally awake again?" a feminine voice with just a hint of condescension asked. Kenji forced his heavy eyelids open, and a small smile touched his lips as his blurry vision cleared to reveal the woman that had spotted him, kneeling beside his prostrate body. Her dark hair was cut short before reaching her chin, and its childish bounce undoubtedly removed several years from her face. Her eyes were lighter than her younger brother's, unnaturally ethereal, yet powerful, in appearance. Kenji felt as if one angry glance from her might render even Aoshi defenseless.

Now what was her name again?

"Uki?" he questioned slowly, testing his memory, "what happened?"

"You passed out on the way here," she stated simply.

"Where's your brother?"

"Outa?" she questioned, brightening. Instead of answering verbally, she just motioned to the side with her head, out the open door.

Kenji pushed himself up on one elbow, squinting into the high sun. His eyes widened, and Uki answered his rising question before it could completely form on his tongue.

"No, we're not in Beijing anymore, and you're lucky we found you before we left . . . being a runaway soldier, and all."

"Then where are we?"

Uki's smile faded. "Can't you tell? This village has become a haven for refugees."

She was right. It was rather obvious. The street, or what Kenji could see of it, was lined with uncountable buildings. Most of them were homes, and the majority appeared to be haphazardly made, just sufficient enough to keep the rain out. A few of the surrounding people appeared foreign, but many were also native, most likely sympathizers or just innocent bystanders that had fled Beijing in fear during the Boxers' siege on the city. The villagers' clothes were in many cases tattered and worn, their children's faces smudged with dirt. And yet, Kenji quickly noted that every one of the children and many of their parents were smiling, their eyes bright and alive, as if they were the luckiest people in the world. And suddenly he came to realize just how much this little haven really meant to them.

Outa was a few feet away, playing with a small group of children. Kenji noticed, not without significant surprise, that Outa had unconsciously and easily shifted into Chinese. The words slipped off of his tongue with just as much ease as Japanese, and Kenji curiously raised a red eyebrow.

"What were you two doing here?"

"We've lived here for awhile, since the beginning of the Boxers. We're foreigners too, after all."

"But why are you in China, and not Japan?"

"We moved here with our older brother several years ago. Our parents had passed away, so we just came here with him. It was a sort of an adventure for us, I guess."

"Then what were you doing in Beijing when you found me?"

Uki seemed more reluctant to answer that question, but Outa apparently saw no harm in sharing information with the stranger.

"Springing our brother from jail," he answered bluntly, without moving his eyes from the game he was preoccupied with.

Kenji felt a new presence behind him before a word was uttered or a footstep fell. Both Uki and Outa's eyes had lit up, and then the newcomer spoke.

"I heard you talking about me again," a deep, jocular voice said. Kenji turned, and saw the man he instantly assumed to be their elder brother.

The man was tall, and his lean but muscular body was leaning lazily against the nearest wall. His brown hair was long, falling just past his shoulders, but a red bandana around his forehead tied back some of the unruly locks. His face was dark with stubble, accentuating the ruggedness of his features. He was certainly more ragged and unkempt than his brother or sister.

The bright sun glowed against his face, which was decorated with a crooked smile, and illuminated his eyes, as sharp and piercing as a hawk's. Despite the man's laid-back nature, Kenji saw in the brown orbs the experience and battles of decades, and stories that would probably send shivers down even his own spine. He had obviously been living such a life for several years now, and had adapted to it well. Kenji easily recognized his Japanese descent, however, and judging by his looks concluded that he had probably been alive since sometime during the revolution.

Kenji sat up fully as the man shifted his gaze to the ex-soldier in interest.

"Finally awake, huh?"

But almost instantly afterward his hard brown eyes widened in shock, his face paling drastically, as if he was seeing some kind of re-manifested memory in the form of an apparition. The fishbone between his lips plummeted to the ground. And Kenji found himself involuntarily leaning away from him, for an unexplainable reason suddenly feeling as if he was once again being compared to his father.

"You never told me his eyes were blue . . ." the man whispered, almost to himself. Then, "could you take off your helmet?"

Kenji complied with a shrug, slipping the kepi from his head and revealing a sea of red tresses. The man's eyes grew even larger.

"Is there something wrong?" Uki asked apprehensively, glancing back and forth between the two men. Immediately her brother regained composure, realizing how oddly he had reacted. He shook his head twice, breaking into a shaky smile.

"No," he murmured, scratching his head with one hand in embarrassment. "I apologize. You, you just look a lot like someone I used to know."

Kenji sighed. He had been right. This man had fought in the Bakumatsu.

The man seated himself beside Kenji and extended a hand. Kenji took it, noticing that despite its sweatiness, the handshake was powerful and confident. The man fixed his eyes on the scene outside, the uncertainty from a moment before completely absent.

"What's your name?"

"Himura Kenji."

And his eyes flashed back to their surprised confusion. Kenji smiled slightly. The man's expressions changed almost as quickly as his mother's moods.

"Himura?" he asked in quiet disbelief. "As in, Himura Kenshin?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yes. He was my father."

Uki and Outa looked on in silent confusion as their brother's eyes glassed over. "Your mother, her name was Kamiya Kaoru, right?"

Kenji nodded, and the man laughed heartily.

"That idiot never told me he married Jou-chan. And a son at that!" He sighed with a smile. "I can't believe they finally went through with it."

Kenji arched an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

The man looked up in surprise, then smirked. "Oh, I've been known by lots of names, most of them unpleasant."

Uki muffled a chuckle from where she sat.

"Well?"

"Just call me Sanosuke. Sagara Sanosuke."