Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, the setting, the time period, or even the plot that has gone before. Also, I have no money. It will be a pointless effort in malicious spite to sue me over this piece of fan fiction.
Note: This chapter took a while. Many apologies for the wait. If it's any consolation, this is the longest one so far. I actually tried to upload it Saturday, but the site wouldn't let me. In fact, it won't let me upload anything today, either, so I'm trying to play a trick on it to get the chapter up.
Also, many thanks go to Kuronoko Tsubame for booting me out of a slump.
Chapter 14
Sano frowned at the open drawer before him, not sure he wanted to get involved in the tangle of handles and metal blades. So far today, he'd seen more packets of medicine in more colors than he'd thought existed, on top of instruments he recognized and those he hoped he would never see again. Despite his frequent visits of late, he'd signed himself up for this job without suspecting a clinic could be so complicated. Then again, he thought, I spent most of my time here having my hand wrapped.
He hesitantly reached into the drawer and gripped one of the nearest handles, pulling slowly to give himself plenty of time to drop it if he inadvertently tweaked a blade into slicing position. "It's no wonder no one ever uses this room," he muttered as he gingerly set the scalpel on the counter. "You'd cut a finger off just trying to grab for a pair of scissors." Sano took a deep breath and prepared to fish another instrument out of the drawer, but jerked his hand away at a commotion in the waiting room. Don't want my hand in there during a distraction.
Sano closed the drawer and walked toward the noise, hoping it wasn't the first wave of victims from an incident in town. He was relieved to find only a little boy with a gash in his arm and a hovering mother. Megumi had the boy propped against the wall, his arm stretched in front of him on a low table while she worked.
"Ah, Sanosuke," she said as he entered the room. "Chikashi-chan fell into a clump of thorns while chasing his sister around. Please hold his arm steady while I clean it."
He nodded to the anxious woman standing in the corner and moved to do as Megumi asked. The kid didn't look so bad, and he was clearly more afraid of Megumi than of the injury itself. He could sympathize. Megumi was gentle as far as doctors went, but she could only be so gentle when digging in a wound. Or binding a hand. She was absolute murder on my knuckles. Sano patted the whimpering boy on the head, shooting the kid his best comforting look.
"Pay attention, Sanosuke," Megumi murmured, not looking up from her work. "Someday it will be you cleaning a wound. I can't treat everyone at once, you know." She picked up a pair of wicked-looking metal chopsticks and grasped a splinter with the needle thin tips. A gentle tug removed the splinter and she set it in a small bowl at her side before returning her attention to the wound.
Sano took a deep breath and reassured himself that his own arm was fine. It was a different sensation to be the one fixing instead of the one being fixed. He hoped he wasn't the one cleaning wounds in the future, because just a glance at Megumi's precision work was enough to convince him he'd botch the job. Megumi has to know that already, he thought. She'll want me to hand her things. Not actually do the doctoring. Surely.
From here, Sano found he could make out the conversations going on in the waiting area. It was better than the quiet he'd endured in the back rooms, going over drawer after drawer and staring at cabinets. He kept an eye on Megumi's handiwork, but let his attention shift to the mutters of waiting sick people. So far their favorite topic seemed to be the draft. More than one of them "wouldn't stand for it" and quite a few others had plans for avoiding it. Sano was again reminded of how lucky he'd been that Megumi had vouched for him. Whatever the cop said about him being added to the police force, Sano was sure Saitou would have had him bumped to the army within the week.
"—Fujimori-san of all people! Why would anyone want to harm that man?"
Sano snapped his head up at that, bringing his full attention to the conversation. Fujimori. Do they mean Fujimori Kazaki?
"It wasn't even a clean slice. They say the Slasher hacked his head off. Right there in the bath!"
Sano frowned. Maybe that was Kenshin's assignment last night. But Kenshin wouldn't do something that… Sano let his frown deepen, trying to recall some of the rumors he'd heard around the campfire during his youth. Brutality had certainly been high up there on Battousai's list of trademarks. I was hoping that translated to "efficiency" but if these guys are right, maybe brutality really meant brutality. He tried to picture Kenshin sawing off a man's head, and came up blank, with a sinking feeling in his gut. Newspapers only want a story, he reassured himself. And of course they'll have to make it even better than the temple scene. Guess I should just ask him.
"Okay. That should be all of it."
Megumi's voice drifted into his thoughts, pulling him back to his surroundings. The little bowl was filled with splinters and some larger thorns, more than Sano would have imagined could be packed into a wound this size. She dipped a clean cloth into antiseptic and dabbed at the wound briefly before wrapping it. A few murmured instructions later, the boy was on his feet and being steered out of the room.
"Sanosuke, I hardly would have thought you the squeamish type," Megumi chuckled while cleaning the table for her next patient.
"Oh, um, yeah." Sano picked up the roll of bandages and followed her to the cabinets. "It's just the conversation outside was a bit distracting."
She set her supplies down and turned to look at him. "You have nothing to worry about concerning the draft, Sanosuke, and I know you don't keep up with politics enough to care much about Fujimori." Megumi paused, still searching his face for something. "Anyway, the police are hunting the killer, and I'm sure they will keep Ken-san safe. He is one of their officers now, after all."
Sano shrugged, breaking the eye contact. "It's just, you know, everything's all messed up lately." He hoped she never realized the full extent of the mess. Knowing her, she'd probably try to save Kenshin and end up messing with his head instead. That's the last thing we need.
Megumi plucked the bandages from his hand and set them in the cabinet. "When is Ken-san coming home from the police station?"
He sighed, thankful for a question he could really answer. "His note said he'd be making dinner."
"A note? How early did he leave?"
Sano thought. He'd been up when the sun was shining, but the rice balls hadn't had a crust to them, so Kenshin couldn't have left that much earlier. "Probably around dawn. Why?"
She shook her head, frowning slightly. "That man. He can't solve everyone's problems, no matter how early he starts." She leaned around the shoji and waved the next person inside. "And he'll be back for dinner, you say?"
Sano nodded.
"Good afternoon Arata-san," she greeted the greying man who entered the room. "Is the medicine working out for you?" At his nod, she smiled, and handed him seven small triangular packets. "I'm glad. Take these as you have been, and please come see me if you start to get headaches."
Megumi watched the man leave before returning to her conversation with Sano. "Why don't you go back to the dojo to wait for Ken-san, Sanosuke?"
"Now?"
"Gensai-sensei will be by in a little while to handle the evening shift here, and I need to go run some errands. I assume you'll be arriving late regularly?" She put a hand over her mouth and laughed.
Sano shrugged. "Well, you know how I like to stay out at night," he said. Though I have a different reason for it lately, he thought. Might as well let my reputation work for me here.
"All that drinking isn't good for you, Sanosuke."
"It isn't just drinking," he protested. "We—"
"I'm sure whatever else you do all night is worse than the drinking. Still, I have errands to run, and I don't want you here unsupervised yet. Why don't we simply agree that you'll come in mid morning and leave later in the evening after helping Gensai-sensei?"
He almost insisted differently, still stuck on clearing his name, but thought it through and found it was probably the best schedule he could get. "Yeah, sure." Sano grinned at her. "So I guess I'll be leaving early today?"
She made a shooing gesture, and called in the next patient.
Not wanting to press his luck, Sano left through the waiting room, waving at Gensai-sensei as he passed the man on the street. I can probably count on Kenshin not getting back from assignments until after dark. As long as I'm there before he is, I can afford to stay at the clinic later. And, he thought with a grin, I'll get to sleep later to make up for it. Can't beat that.
Kenshin watched the crowd drift by on the streets, his noodles forgotten in their bowl behind him. This patrol had turned out to be something quite the opposite from what he'd expected. The police uniform, as silly as he knew it looked with the cuffs rolled up, had provided him invisibility without effort. In daytime Kyoto, he'd worn a large straw hat to hide his hair and had kept to the shadows at the edge of the street. Staying hidden at night came naturally after so much practice, but it had still been a conscious effort. Since he started wandering, he'd just gotten used to the stares, had learned to draw them away from the scar by wearing bright colors. It was almost lonely being ignored so studiously by everyone he passed in the street.
"If you aren't going to finish your meal, just say as much so we can leave."
Kenshin glanced back at Saitou and then at his half-eaten lunch. "Aa. We can leave." He set his coins down on the counter and snatched his hat before Saitou could accuse him of forgetting it. It had been a relief not to wear it during lunch, but that relief would evaporate if his partner made even one snide remark about it. He shoved the hat back on his head and bit back a sigh.
"Is this all there is to a patrol, Saitou?" he asked as they waded back into the streets. "Walking around being ignored by people?"
"I should think you'd enjoy the change of pace."
He shrugged, still not used to the tightness of the uniform across his shoulders. "It is different. But this doesn't seem very useful, that it doesn't." He knew, logically, that these patrols ensured an even spread of policemen around the city so that someone would be close to any disturbance that occurred. But still. This job is essentially walking around all day.
Saitou motioned to the left, and Kenshin followed him across the street. He hadn't expected an answer from Saitou, and didn't press for one. He remembered seeing Shinsengumi patrols in Kyoto, always a pack of them, and always silent. Except for laughing Okita. That one never looked quite like he belonged with the others.
Kenshin ducked into an alley suddenly, his ears focused on a bit of dialogue. It was a man's voice, low and conspiratorial, but unaccompanied by malicious ki.
"…taken up a sword again."
"Oh, you old fool," came a woman's voice. "The Battousai? He's been defanged by that Kamiya girl. A complete wimp."
"Woman—"
"Don't you 'woman' me. The man doesn't even carry a cutting sword. Just that silly backwards thing."
Kenshin heard low laughter from nearby, and saw that Saitou had also made good use of the alley to eavesdrop. His eyes narrowed as the bickering couple moved on down the street and Saitou's shoulders continued to shake.
He shook his head, striding out of the alley without a backward glance. "You are making this job harder than it has to be, Saitou." At least the public seems fooled by the rurouni act, he thought, pointedly ignoring his partner's smirk. I just hope that act will keep deflecting rumors.
They continued their circuit through Tokyo in a surprisingly companionable silence, each content to leave the other to his thoughts. Kenshin found his mind wandering to the dojo as he walked, wondering what Kaoru and Yahiko were doing, what they had eaten for lunch, what he would find in the kitchen when he returned. He knew he'd have to chop the wood eventually, since there was only a little over a cord left, and the new wood needed to dry before it could be used.
"Going to make another round on your own, Battousai?"
Kenshin stopped, and turned around to see Saitou smirking at him from the open door to the police station. Wordlessly, he stalked inside, whipping the hat off his head the moment he crossed the threshold. What is wrong with me today? he wondered as he walked to the record room. That's four times I've just drifted off like that on these rounds. Kenshin sighed. At least I wasn't drifting into Kyoto.
"Himura-san, Saitou-san," Chief Uramura greeted them as he stood, holding his own hat nervously in his hands. "You had left on your rounds before we could notify you, and you prove particularly difficult to locate on the streets. My apologies. You should have known right away."
"Should have known what," Saitou demanded, his previous amusement at Kenshin's daydreaming forgotten.
Kenshin stepped between the two men with a reassuring smile for the chief. "Chief, what has happened?"
Uramura glanced anxiously at Saitou before addressing the obviously less volatile Kenshin. "First, let me assure you that the attempt was a failure. Yamagata-sama is perfectly safe, and the security has been doubled."
A metallic chink sounded in the room, and Kenshin realized he'd clenched a fist around his sword hilt. Failure or not, an attack on Yamagata was a sign of a very confident enemy. He noticed the police chief stepping backward, his throat convulsing in a nervous swallow. Kenshin didn't blame the man. Saitou was radiating violent ki, and his own ki couldn't have been friendly or well-harnessed.
"The, um, the assailant was killed during the attempt this morning, and we are keeping it from the public." Uramura had edged around the table as he spoke, and now placed a hand on a new stack of papers. "This is all the information we have concerning the event. I trust that—"
"We'll take care of it," Saitou growled, releasing his own sword and stalking toward the table.
"Right. Then I'll leave you to it." Kenshin had never seen the chief move quite as fast as he did when leaving the record room, still wringing his hat in his hands.
Saitou tossed the top half of the stack at Kenshin and started flipping through the second half. Several minutes later, he spoke. "When I find out which guards were on duty," he started.
"Keep them," Kenshin muttered. "This one is more interested in the man who bought them off." He frowned at the last page of his pile. "And that looks to be one Amano Yoshimitsu, who cannot understand how one of his servants could attempt such a thing."
"He was Bakufu," Saitou said under his breath. "All my sources say he's unhappy with the way the Bakumatsu ended."
Kenshin set the page down for Saitou to read. "He's blaming one of his rivals, saying the man was lured away in order to cast suspicion on him."
"Do you believe his claim?" Saitou asked, looking up from the paper to catch Kenshin's response. "Neither do I. The man was rotten in Kyoto, and he's not changed much in eleven years except to match action with sentiment." He moved from the table, searching the scribbled labels on boxes until he found what he was looking for.
Saitou tugged a box out of the stack and moved to set it on the table in front of Kenshin. "This is what we've got on Amano Yoshimitsu and his many connections. Happy hunting, Battousai."
Two hours later, Saitou left to bring in a new lamp, which he set on the table instead of in the wall niche where the old one was slowly guttering out.
"Getting anywhere?"
Kenshin looked across the table at him, silent for a moment. "Is there a reason this room doesn't have any chairs, Saitou?"
Saitou's grin glowed in the lamplight. "Keeps the population down. No one wants to stand here for any stretch of time, so I'm guaranteed a quiet workspace. What do you have so far?"
"A cramp in my neck and a few more names. I'd also have a paper cut, but the gloves are proving useful."
"Shishio would have called them highly nutritious."
Kenshin rolled his head in a wide circle, trying to ignore the feeling of wrongness that accompanied playful banter with the Miburo. He'd known the man had a sense of humor, but he'd always assumed the thing was shriveled from misuse. Certainly it was more a thing of insult than of play. I hope I don't actually get to know Saitou while working here, he thought. It would be a disaster if he rubbed off on me.
"Amano's been in contact recently with Mizuno Shinri and Noguchi Hiromi, the heads of two middling yakuza families. It seems as though the two families are cooperating." Kenshin sighed, digging his fingers into the back of his neck. "And this room really needs chairs."
"Hmm." Saitou flipped through a collection of papers he'd liberated from a box at his feet. "They're probably forming an alliance to be able to keep up with the competition. Try this." He pushed a page over to Kenshin's side of the table, but didn't wait for him to read it. "Ishihara Mikio has a house on the Ruffian Row. He meets weekly with rebels and yakuza alike."
Kenshin raised an eyebrow, looking at the dates listed on the page. "For over two months, Saitou. You've either got spies attending the meetings, or a great deal more restraint than this one had imagined."
"Tch. Your two yakuza bosses met there almost a full week ago. My source says there were plans to meet again soon."
"And by 'almost a full week ago,' you mean the next meeting is tomorrow night." Kenshin mentally verified his numbers, and nodded to himself. "How many men do the yakuza normally bring to these meetings?"
Saitou pushed a second page his way. "Just one. Ishihara is greatly trusted among his peers." At Kenshin's silence, he continued. "Well, Battousai?"
Kenshin tapped his fingers on the table, counting off potential attendees. "That's only five men, at first glance. But if they're planning a second assassination, there will be a hitokiri present."
"Two of them," Saitou interjected. "Mizuno and Noguchi may be cooperating, but it'll be shaky enough for them to want equal representation."
"Fine. A new total of seven. And Amano, if this meeting is the one taking place tomorrow."
Saitou smiled. "Count on him for another two bodyguards. He can't afford more than that for secrecy's sake, but he won't have less."
Kenshin continued tapping his fingers, using the movement to keep his thoughts steady. "That map of Fujimori's house. I'm assuming it came from one of these boxes?"
"Blueprints are filed right under the maps. Top left."
He nodded, going in search of the box. He'd visited Sano often enough to notice that the row houses were all built to match, but he'd not spent much time actually inside. For whatever reason, Sano had almost always met him at the door. Some digging rewarded him with a sketch that was clearly recognizable as a row house, though the external dimensions were slightly off from Sano's place.
Kenshin set the blueprint down on the table, and flipped absently through the papers in front of him. "Saitou." He waited for the man's attention before continuing. "Iwata Tadao and Shindo Izumi. Are they on the list of Yamagata-sama's guards?"
Saitou referenced the list. "Yes, but not on duty this morning. Not even in the area until noon."
"One of the maids complained about a fuss in the kitchen while she was serving breakfast. Their names came up." Kenshin handed his partner the paper. "Toward the bottom."
"Gotcha," Saitou whispered, his eyes narrowing into slits. "These two, and the two who agreed to trade posts."
"Tonight?"
Saitou nodded, a little smile playing on his lips. "Go home, Battousai. I'll take care of these four, you finish planning for tomorrow."
Kenshin shrugged, folding the sketch into fourths and hesitating before finally slipping it in a pocket. Who would think to store something there? he thought. In any real garment, it would fall straight through to the floor. He left his hat on the table and made his way to the first room he'd spent time in today to gather his gi and hakama. A small part of his mind urged him to change before leaving the station, but the greater, exhausted part of him pushed the notion aside. It was enough to leave the hat behind.
The sun was setting when he finally got to the dojo and his feet, unused to the shoes they'd been trapped in all day, throbbed in time to his heart. I should have changed, he thought. The shoes at least, if not the whole thing. He took comfort in the thought that he'd eventually get used to the uniform. Saitou had, anyway.
"Kenshin, you're…" Kaoru's voice faded from perky greeting to confusion. She hid a giggle behind one hand. "Is that your uniform?"
He didn't believe her innocent act for one moment. No, Kaoru-dono is a sweet young girl, but she is not going to let this pass. Kenshin sighed, and resigned himself to an evening of ridicule. "Good evening, Kaoru-dono," he said, not feeling the –dono at the moment.
"Oh, just wait until the boys see you," she managed between peals of laughter. Kenshin bit back another sigh when her hands patted his hair. "Your hair is all droopy, Kenshin. Were you wearing a hat?"
"Let's not talk about the hat, okay Kaoru-dono?" He smiled at her, and reminded himself not to clench his fists. He'd gone without the rurouni act all day, and it was proving a touch difficult to get it back in place.
"Oi, Yahiko! You gotta see this!" Sano walked over with a huge grin. "Nice clothes, Kenshin. Looking a little too big on you, though. Where's the hat?"
Kenshin gritted his teeth, and returned the fighter's grin. "This one must have left it at the station, Sano. Why don't…" he cut himself off when he heard Yahiko's laughter from the porch. He'd been about to suggest dinner, always a successful distraction around the dojo. Now, he thought better of it.
"What, is the hat really that bad?" Sano tugged at his bangs. "You know, I really can't see you in a hat Kenshin. Not with bangs like yours."
"Can we please not talk about the hat?"
"It is that bad, then." Sano winked knowingly at him while Kaoru dissolved into a fit of giggles and Yahiko fell off the porch. "What's wrong with the hat, Kenshin?"
Kenshin felt an eye twitch, and plastered a smile on his face as he walked through the yard to his room, stepping over Yahiko, who was helplessly rolling on the ground. Oh yes, he thought. Forget the shoes. If there is a single piece of this uniform that will drive me homicidal someday, it's the blasted hat.