The Hunter

Chapter Twenty-Five

Breakfast was a tense and mostly silent affair. From the way her brothers glared at Kohaku, it was clear their opinion of him had not improved. Takanori kept his sword at his side, the blade partially withdrawn from its sheath in warning. Ryo hardly touched his food, choosing instead to stare unflinchingly at the demon slayer and periodically make comments to Takanori under his breath. Kohaku, for his part, looked calm and collected as he picked at his fish. Perhaps it was because he'd dealt with far worse. Compared to demons, bandits, and daimyos, how intimidating could the ire of her brothers possibly be?

Watching them scrutinize Kohaku, Rin realized that there was more than anger behind her brothers' stares. They were curious about him too, and perhaps even a little jealous. For nearly two years she'd been lost to them, taken by forces they couldn't control, and during that time Kohaku had come to know and understand her in ways they no longer could. They knew the old Rin, the almost-child who showed no interest in boys and fancy clothes. Kohaku knew her as the woman she'd become since: the painter, the entertainer, the courtesan. For her brothers, there was likely no greater reminder of the passage of stolen time than this.

With her body warm and her belly full, she felt better prepared to deal with the situation at hand. She would never be able to speak with her brothers the way she needed to if their attentions remained wholly focused on Kohaku. The only solution was to move him as far away as possible. After tossing what remained of her fish into the fire, she pointedly turned to the demon slayer.

"I have something that may help with those injuries…"

It was a pretext, of course. She knew he could handle himself; she'd seen his abilities first hand when he wrapped up her thigh after she was attacked by a gang of thugs. His skills far outweighed hers, but she couldn't see any other plausible way to separate him from her brothers.

To her relief Kohaku caught on and agreed to let her help, but not without provision.

"I have one condition," he announced, holding up a single finger. He pointed it towards Ryo, or more specifically, the sword sheath hanging from Ryo's belt.

"I want my sword back."

Rin looked expectantly to her brother and he muttered a few choice curses under his breath before slipping the sheath out of his belt and handing it to her. Kohaku dipped his head in a nod of thanks, but Ryo ignored it and turned sullenly towards the fire.

Kohaku tucked his sword into the belt at his waist and followed her to a downed tree not far from the fire. She sat atop the rotting wood and he took up a position next to her, though, she noticed, he was careful to keep his distance. Whether it was for her brothers' benefit of her own, she couldn't tell.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice low.

He gave a wry smile, "I'm fine."

"May I?"

She gestured to his hands which were caked with dried blood and dirt. He held them out to her and she began to gently clean his bloodied knuckles with a rag from his satchel and a bit of water. The rag moved unhurriedly over his skin, washing away the evidence of his first encounter with her brothers.

"I'm sorry about them," she said, with a glance over her shoulder at the pair who watched them carefully.

"They're your brothers. I wouldn't have expected them to do any less given the circumstances," he conceded with a light shrug. "I'm just glad you talked them out of hanging me. For a minute there, I wasn't entirely sure if you would."

"Hate me later."

His words from the previous day came rushing back and her hand stilled over his. Did he think she hated him? She was angry, yes, confused, too, but how could he think that a single part of her wanted to see him dead? Her gaze settled on the angry red marks left by the rope around this throat. Just the thought of what had nearly happened that morning, the scene that would have greeted her had she arrived only a few moments later, was enough to make her stomach churn.

Sucking in a cool breath, she turned her face away to hide the tears glistening in her eyes. Kohaku's hand settled warmly over hers and he gently turned her face towards him.

"Rin, this isn't your fault."

He waited patiently for her eyes to meet his, but she lacked the strength to do it. If she looked now, he'd know the truth about how terrified she was to lose him. Whether by her brothers' hands or the daimyo's, she couldn't bear the thought. With one look he would know what was in her heart – that in spite of his months long absence she still loved him as much as she ever had.

It was difficult to remain strong when his presence and the comforting warmth of his hands encouraged her to lower her defences. They'd been down this road before, she reminded herself, and knew exactly where it led. He cared for her, that much was clear, but was it any different from how one cared for a sibling or a friend? Had he missed her with an ache in his heart the way she'd missed him, or spent his nights torn between wakefulness and sleep on account of dreams of her that were too vivid to not be real? His confident posture gave nothing away and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she realized that she had her answer.

Pulling her hands from his, she softly cleared her throat and wiped away the damp remnants of tears from her lashes. She couldn't afford to let herself be vulnerable in front of him again, not until she knew his true reasons for returning.

"I'm sorry," she conceded with soft shake of her head. "This morning has been a bit overwhelming."

His freshly bandaged hand softly caressed the side of her face to comfort her. Offering him a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she assured him that she was fine and then retrieved a small container of medicinal salve from her obi. Kohaku eyed the container and she wondered if he remembered giving it to her. She couldn't explain why she'd kept it all this time, except that the thought of keeping it had sat easier than the thought of tossing it away.

"How did they do it?" she asked as she applied the salve liberally to the wounds on his neck.

"Do what?" He grimaced as she touched a particularly sensitive spot and she winced in sympathy.

"How did they get the better of you?"

Her eyes remained downcast but a faint smile touched her lips. Her brothers may have spent the last year training to learn how to fight, but Kohaku was a born tracker and demon hunter. Those skills were second nature to him. It was impossible for anyone to sneak up on him, or away from him as she'd discovered on more than one occasion, unless he permitted it.

"Ah," he replied with a conspiratorial look. He examined his bandaged knuckles and made a few experimental fists. "Well, it's not as though they didn't put up a fight."

"I don't understand," she pressed, her voice lowering so as not to be overheard. "I've watched you kill a man twice your size with a single slash of that sword. Why didn't you…?"

"Use it?" he finished for her. "I couldn't chance killing them."

"But… How did you know?"

"I didn't at first," he admitted, bowing his head so she could tend to the welts on the back of his neck. "I was washing up in the river when I heard them. They were talking about you. At least, I thought they were. Rin is not all that common of a name. In any case, they were arguing about that brothel in Kyoto, the one where we met. I was curious, so I went to talk to them."

Her hands stilled. "What did you say?"

"Not much," he replied with a short, humourless laugh. "They must have heard my description somewhere, perhaps from that brothel, because the moment they laid eyes on me they drew their swords."

He looked up and past her to where her brothers were talking next to the fire and slowly shook his head. "I told them you were with me, but given how remote this area is I can see how they wouldn't believe me. And, well, once they found the bag of coins in my shirt, they were convinced I was a slave trader. There was no reasoning with them after that."

"And you just let them attack you?" The air escaped her lungs in a sudden rush as her hands fell limply into her lap. "What if they'd killed you?"

He shrugged his shoulders in a careless sort of gesture that infuriated and horrified her all at once.

"It's not as though I had all that much choice in the matter," he responded dryly. "Besides, your brothers would have found you eventually. I figured that if it came to that, you'd probably be safer with them anyhow since the daimyo wouldn't know to look for them."

Her heart was thundering in her ears and she suddenly felt hot under her kimono despite the bitter chill on the air. Had he truly done all of that for her? Refused to defend himself, even put his life in jeopardy, just so that she might be safely reunited with what was left of her family?

"I never would have been able to forgive myself if you'd died."

It was the closest she was willing to come to a confession. He might not share her feelings, but that didn't mean he deserved to go on thinking she hated him. Her words had the desired effect. His shoulders settled, losing some of their earlier tension, and he flashed her a warm smile.

"Would you miss me all that much?" he teased.

His rational talk of dying had set her insides churning, leaving her in no mood to indulge his attempts at flirtation. Ignoring his question, she abruptly changed the subject.

"Your eyes are almost swollen shut. I have something that may take away a bit of the swelling, but you will have to rest for a while. Can you do that?"

"No," he replied honestly. Seeing her troubled frown, he added, "But if you think it's necessary, I will."

She motioned for him to put his head back against the fallen tree. He did and then watched as she retrieved the last two fresh bandages from his bag and began tying the corners together to form two small pouches. She filled each with a hefty amount of compacted snow and then tied them shut tight.

"Those?" he asked, with a dubious look at her creations.

Wearing a determined look, she told him to close his eyes.

"The cold will help with the swelling," she explained as she placed a pouch atop each eye.

"How long do I have to stay like this, exactly?" he wondered.

"I'll return when it's time."

She began to rise and his hand slid over hers, pressing it gently to his chest. The warmth of his skin permeated the thin layers of his shirt, warming her chilled fingers.

"Thank you for earlier." His brow furrowed as he spoke, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "And for this. It's more than I deserve."

Her thumb moved, softly stroking the small patch of skin left bare at the opening of his shirt. She longed to feel the comforting weight of his arms wrapped around her, but it wasn't the time or the place. Expelling a soft sigh, she withdrew her hand and rose to her feet.

"Try to rest. I'll be back soon."

Her brothers were still sitting around the campfire when she returned, though they seemed to have lost some of their interest in Kohaku. Ryo was preoccupied with jabbing at the glowing embers with a long stick while Takanori stared pensively into the flames; neither looked up when she took a seat between them.

"Is he in much pain?" Ryo asked, adding a fresh log to the fire.

"No," she lied, holding her hands towards the flames to warm them. "He'll be fine in a day or two."

"Shame."

Rin shot her brother a sharp look. "I never knew you to be so heartless, Ryo. Have you changed so much while I was gone?"

He had the grace to look abashed and a hint of colour stained his cheeks.

"I know he's not the one who took you," he muttered, "but just lookin' at him makes my blood boil."

Her eyes briefly lifted to where Kohaku was resting and then returned to the fire. How could she explain him to her brothers so they might understand?

"He's not so bad as you think," she began, choosing her words carefully. "It's true that he bought me from the brothel in Kyoto with the intention of giving me to the daimyo, but the morning we arrived at the daimyo's residence he didn't want to go through with it."

"So we should give him a medal?" Ryo quipped, with a derisive look in Kohaku's direction. Takanori gave an emphatic snort.

Rin tamped down her impatience and tried again. "His village wouldn't have survived the winter without the daimyo's help. Even knowing that, he couldn't ask me to go through with it. He said he would find another way, but the winter snows had already arrived. I knew his village was running out of time, so I made the choice to go."

"What's his village to you?" Ryo pressed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Nothing, I suppose," she answered with a shrug, "but I know what it's like to lose a home. I couldn't bear to let someone else go through that when I could prevent it."

"At the cost of your freedom? Rin, that's absurd!"

"Maybe to you, but from where I stood, I had nothing left to lose."

"You know," Takanori cut in, his tone calm and patient, "all this time I was picturing you as a child, just a scared little girl. But you've changed, haven't you? You're all grown up."

His soft spoken words were a dramatic departure from Ryo's heated protests. Their circle suddenly went quiet and Rin glanced over at her ever-serious big brother. His weariness was plain in the stoop of his shoulders and the dark shadows beneath his eyes. This had been a challenging year for them all. His pained gaze met hers and her heart clenched tight inside her chest.

"I am still your plain-faced little sister," she reassured him.

Takanori attempted a smile at their family joke, but his features remained overshadowed by guilt.

"Naw, that's different too," Ryo said with a decisive nod. "It took a while, but I guess you finally grew into that face of yours."

Rin made a face and playfully punched him in the shoulder as he laughed. In some ways it was like nothing had changed, except everything had. They weren't children anymore. In a single night, whatever remnants of childish innocence they possessed had been stolen. They were harder now, less easily amused, their bodies showing signs of a life never intended for them.

When Ryo's laughter had quieted down and their circle grew quiet once more, she ventured to ask the terrible question that had been plaguing her thoughts for more than a year.

"What happened after…?"

There was no need to elaborate. From the weighted silence that fell over them, it was clear her brothers understood what she was asking.

From the moment her village was swallowed up by the darkness of the night, she'd agonized over the answer. At first she'd been hopeful – everyone had survived, everyone was waiting for her to return – but after a while a sort of bitter pessimism set in that told her everyone and everything she'd ever loved was dead. In time, that too faded and she began to dream of a homecoming where her parents, friends and neighbours would welcome her with open arms. That vision had kept her going through the long nights in the brothel and had driven her time and again to try and elude Kohaku - risks be damned.

But now, with an opportunity to learn the fate of her village in front of her, she was suddenly reluctant to know. In some ways, the uncertainty that went with not knowing was easier. Once the ugly truth was spoken, that homecoming she'd dreamed of would cease to exist. The finality of it unsettled her and left her twisting her hands in the soft silk of her kimono. Reluctant or not, it was time. Her heart would never be satisfied without the truth.

"Most of the village burned to the ground," Ryo answered solemnly, "but I guess you saw that bit."

"Did anyone else survive?"

"Some," Takanori offered. "Takuya is gone. He died saving Yuri and the babe."

They sat quietly for a moment to give her a chance to absorb the news of their eldest brother's death. Rin exhaled and felt tears prick at her eyes. Takuya had always felt like a second father to her. He was far older than her other brothers, with a family and home of his own. He was the strongest of them and the most dependable. Even though she'd been prepared for his death all along it still felt like a piece of her heart had suddenly been carved out.

"And our parents?"

Her whispered question went unanswered and she looked up to see Ryo shake his head. Braving a smile, Rin brushed a few stray tears from her cheeks and sucked in a calming breath.

"In my heart I've been mourning all of you for a very long time," she explained, her words halting and uneven. "Even now, it's hard for me to believe you're both here."

"Well we are," Ryo assured her, pulling her into a warm hug, "and we ain't goin' nowhere."

His reassuring words made fresh tears spring from her eyes and she held him tighter, just to be certain he wouldn't suddenly drift away. Takanori looked on, his features awash in sympathy. He wasn't the sort to openly display his feelings, even amongst family. They used to joke that the gods had made up for their error with Ryo, who shared his feelings with far too much frequency and honesty to ever be mistaken for well-mannered.

When Ryo released her, she sniffled loudly and laughed in spite of herself. Until recently, no one would have mistaken her for well-mannered either.

"I do have one more question," she ventured, with a curious glance at each brother. "What brought you this far north?"

"A letter."

It was Takanori who answered this time. He was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands folded in contemplation beneath his chin.

"After the bandits took you, we followed them. Without horses it was impossible for us to keep up, but we asked in every town we passed which way they had gone and continued our pursuit. Once we reached Kyoto, we had a fair idea of where they had brought you."

He paused and swallowed hard, as though the very thought left a foul taste in his mouth.

"We went from brothel to brothel looking for you," Ryo added. "We must've searched every brothel in Shimabara!"

"Two months ago, there was a letter waiting for us when we returned to our inn," Takanori continued with an irritated glance at his brother. "It said you were in the care of the daimyo of Dewa province. That is where we were headed when we found you."

Her brow furrowed in confusion and she sat up straight. "Who sent the letter?"

Takanori reached inside his shirt to retrieve a worn-looking and oft-folded slip of paper. He handed it to her with a grim look. She unfolded it and impatiently scanned the contents. Who would have sent such a letter? And how did they know where her brothers were, or that they were even still alive? The writing was fluid and well crafted, but offered no clue as to who'd written it.

She glanced over at Kohaku and just as quickly dismissed the notion from her mind. Before today, he hadn't known her brothers were alive either. Besides, it would have been impossible for him to track them down in Kyoto. No, it had to be someone else. Could it have been Sesshomaru? She dismissed that idea, too. Like Kohaku, he had no way of knowing her brothers were alive and besides, he did not care enough about her to interfere in her personal life in such a way.

With a puzzled look she handed the letter back to Takanori.

"I don't know who could have sent it, but it's lucky that you found us when you did. All daimyo are in Edo for the New Year to pay homage to the Shogun. It would have been a long and pointless trip to Dewa."

"So it's true then? You were in the daimyo's care?"

She answered Ryo's question with a distracted nod and began to carefully pull the decorative combs from her hair. She placed each one in her lap until they were arranged in a tidy, weighty pile. The hair ornaments alone could buy a farm with a small parcel of land, not to mention the rich layers of silk on her back.

"I was to be his Oiran, a courtesan of the daimyo's court."

"The daimyo, was he-" Ryo faltered, not sure how to put his question into words.

"He was not cruel to me," she reassured him.

Her brothers went quiet and she found her eyes drawn to Kohaku. He was stretched out on the downed tree with hands behind his head and legs crossed, just as she'd left him. One of his boots tapped an impatient, tuneless rhythm against the other. He wouldn't indulge her ruse of caring for his injuries for much longer, but it was just as well. With news of the letter her mind was flooded with questions. Perhaps he might be able to offer some insights as to who'd written her brothers, or help her properly sort out some of her theories.

Resolved to ask him about it later, she looked back to find Takanori studying her with a curious look.

"Earlier you told us that you owe him your life, but it's more than that, isn't it?"

Her eyes fell to the glowing coals of the fire. What could she say? He'd returned to Edo and saved her life once again, but too much uncertainty still remained. Not sure what else to do, she hid her doubts behind a painted smile and a chiding tone.

"All that time spent in brothels and you never learned to respect the secrets of a woman's heart?"

"It wasn't their hearts he was interested in," Ryo chimed in with a salacious waggle of his brows.

Rin snorted at his crude joke and Takanori glowered. With that the question was forgotten and she uttered a quiet sigh of relief. It was only a temporary reprieve. Her brother would eventually ask about her relationship with Kohaku and the next time he wouldn't be so easily dissuaded. Perhaps by then she'd have an answer to give him. Or perhaps by then Kohaku would be gone. In either case, she was determined to glean some answers for herself first.

With a quiet comment about needing to check on Kohaku, she departed their small, family circle. Her brothers didn't object, but the pull of two sets of eyes soon settled between her shoulder blades and accompanied her the entire way.

Author's Note: This chapter has been my nemesis. I seriously considered setting it on fire, but managed to stick with it. I hope you guys enjoyed the finished product. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on Rin's brothers. Like them? Hate them? Bored of them already? I welcome your impressions, good or bad!

Until next time,

Langus