Warnings: angst, politics, and minor character death
Chapter 36. Good and Bad come in pairs
"One more thing," Katsura said, keeping his expression carefully neutral, not letting his honest puzzlement show. "Why did you decide to order the retreat?"
The Bakufu commander sitting across from him sighed, then leaned back and looked away. "From the start this war was a foolish gambit that weakens us in the eyes of Western powers when we desperately need to appear strong. I know it, you know it – most of my men and fellow commanders know it."
"True-" Katsura allowed.
The Bakufu commander lifted his hand to request silence and continued, "We joined this war out of loyalty. Despite our warnings, the shogun required it of us – so we fought. But for you, it's different. I understand that now. You see, when that man of yours, that Hitokiri Battousai, held me at sword point and looked at me, I realized we had already lost. His eyes, they were so sincere. I have never witnessed anything as terrifying as that moment. An insane madman I could have led astray, tricked somehow or struggled against… but a killer who sincerely doesn't wish to kill, but will do so in the blink of an eye if he needs to?"
The Bakufu commander shook his head. "No matter my actions, he would have fought to the very last. He would have killed me, destroyed my ship's steering, gone to the deck and slaughtered my men until he fell… that sort of conviction is hard to fight against." He sighed in half-wonder, half-admiration. "Our army came here poorly outfitted, poorly organized, hoping to intimidate you and snatch an easy victory. Instead, we faced men who are willing to do whatever it takes to win. And since our enemy was like this, there truly was no other reasonable action for us to take than to retreat and rethink the whole campaign."
Katsura bowed his head, acknowledging the truth in those words. "So, we have a ceasefire?"
"Yes," the Bakufu commander said firmly. "Our army will retreat to Hiroshima, where we will join with Honjo Masahide's troops. The final truce can only happen on the Lord Shogun's orders, but I give you my word that my men will not attack you again and that I'll do my best to convince Commander Honjo to enter negotiations for an armistice as well."
"Very good," Katsura said gravely, "then we are in agreement."
The Bakufu commander, the expert negotiator Katsu Kaishu, bowed deeply and rose to leave. At the door of the field tent, he stopped briefly to glance over his shoulder and said simply, "Well played, Kido-san."
Watching him walk away, Katsura exhaled in relief, allowing himself to relax for just a moment. Somehow, they had made it. They had truly made it. And ironically, the act that had broken the paper tiger's back… had been in the hands, or rather mercy, of his killer.
Katsura scoffed.
It was almost amusing how such a small thing could change so much, he mused, making his way back to the Kiheitai encampment. The commander that Kenshin had spared on the Bakufu's flagship had been the most opposed to the war in the first place – and after having witnessing true resolution, he had taken over and ordered the retreat of the Bakufu troops who had fought on the beach, and now wanted to help the negotiations for a truce. Somehow, with that one single act, Kenshin had saved far more lives than he could ever imagine.
True, the war was far from over.
The Bakufu still had large armies surrounding Choshuu on three other fronts, but Takasugi had enjoyed great success in taking back the southeastern islands from the Bakufu's occupation. The army that loomed in Hiroshima and the naval arsenal the Bakufu was organizing in Hikone both seemed particularly unwilling to extend their resources other than as a show of force. That left only the danger coming from the southern straits of Kyushu. Yamagata and his Kiheitai were already packing up, moving to defend Shimonoseki and meet with Takasugi's men there. Against all expectations, Choshuu was holding their own and not giving an inch.
It just served to show how much Shogun Iemochi had relied on his bluff, hoping that by gathering a large enough army, he could suppress the populist agenda that he could no longer ignore. In this war, the Bakufu had given its all, shown all the tricks up its sleeve… but when those prized warships had been taken over, their land forces crushed by the Kiheitai's better armaments and unwavering determination, even the Bakufu's best-prepared armies had turned tail and fled.
Oh, yes. Today, it was good to be a rebel.
If Choshuu could keep this up, the summer would show everyone that the rebellion wasn't just a bunch of radically minded youths stirring trouble for the sake of a fleeting dream, but a reality the country needed to confront. In order for Japan to become strong, they all needed to unite – something the Bakufu couldn't command, not anymore. They needed new thinking and unified leadership to bring them into a new era.
The Kiheitai's command tent loomed ahead, where hurried men rushed back and forth, gathering supplies and packing up. They were set to leave for Shimonoseki tonight. Only the wounded would be left behind, under the care of a few doctors and samurai women volunteering as nurses. Unsurprisingly, Katsura's thoughts turned sour, worry twisting his gut. One of the Kiheitai men had carried Kenshin back through the battle on the beach, unconscious and half-dead from a gunshot wound to his left abdomen. Thankfully, the bullet hadn't lodged there nor pierced vital organs. As it was, through sheer luck, the army surgeon had managed to stop the bleeding in time.
It had been five days since then, and no one knew whether or not the boy would make it; Kenshin had lost a terrifying amount of blood. Worse, the doctors still feared he may have blood poisoning from dirt and impurities that could have gone into the wound. If that had happened, there was nothing to be done but to end the boy's suffering.
No! No, you can't think like that.
He has a chance. A fighting chance, we just need to give him time.
Katsura took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a headache from exhaustion.
It had been a truly difficult week, for all of them.
In total, the Kiheitai had lost over one hundred and fifty men in the battle. Of Choshuu samurai, they had lost a hundred. The number of wounded was much higher, which took a lot of resources. The Bakufu's casualties were still unknown, but their numbers had to be in the several hundreds dead and many more wounded.
When it came to the Kiheitai men who had accompanied Kenshin on the mission, out of fifteen excellent soldiers, only six had returned, most of them wounded. For example, the man who had saved Kenshin's life, a lauded officer with a good career ahead of him, had been injured badly enough that he had to be discharged.
A sad affair, really.
However, without that man's courage, Kenshin would have been left to die and that had been enough of a reason for Katsura to step in and provide some compensation for the man, just to show his gratitude.
A loud, carrying voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Kido-san! You are checking on Himura?"
It was Yamagata-san.
Katsura inclined his head, "Ah, yes. I was going that way."
"I'll join you," declared the vice-commander, now the acting commander of the Kiheitai, and settled to walk beside him.
After Takasugi had departed, Yamagata Kyusuke had shown remarkable leadership capability. Without losing his calm, he had faced the Bakufu's overwhelming odds on the beach and led their troops to a decisive victory. There were good, logical reasons why he would inherit the command of the Kiheitai from Takasugi when the time came… and yet, Katsura couldn't help but wish things were different.
"How long do you think Takasugi can keep commanding the Kiheitai? Your honest opinion, please," Katsura asked softly.
"I doubt anything could keep him away from this war, but he won't make it past the winter. The sickness has spread too far. We have known it for a long time." Yamagata frowned. He sighed, and added, "The Kiheitai will fall to my responsibility when he goes."
"I don't know a better man to continue Takasugi's work, Yamagata-san. The battle on the beach was your victory," Katsura complimented. He wasn't particularly awed by Yamagata, but until he got a better sense of the man, it was best to play it safe.
After all, words of praise didn't cost him anything, but could grant him much. Especially given how Yamagata seemed to be somewhat at odds with him. Katsura had noticed it on the night of the war council in Hagi, and many times since then – small acts of opposition or protest where he hadn't expected to encounter any. Of course he realized he couldn't transfer the implicit trust he shared with Takasugi to Yamagata, but this slight friction between them was… unsettling. He needed Yamagata's trust and cooperation going forward and to gain that, there wasn't much he wouldn't give.
"The Kiheitai won only a part of the battle," Yamagata denied. "The real victory goes to Battousai and the men who accompanied him to the warships." He turned his gaze towards the healing ward. "Yasu reported to me how the mission went down. I'm sorry I doubted you, Kido-san. Your man Himura is a true hero."
"Kenshin couldn't have done it alone," Katsura answered, mild as milk. "Takasugi's insistence that he have a team to support him, and your wisdom in choosing the correct men for the task were a large part of their success. I'd say every man who participated in the mission deserves to be called a hero."
"True words," Yamagata's lips curled into a pleased smile. "However, I must say, Himura is wasted in the Capital. A warrior like him shouldn't be restricted to assassinations or guarding politicians. You have other men, less honorable men for such tasks. So as a sign of our friendship, won't you assign Himura back to the Kiheitai? He was once one of us; I'd gladly make a place for him among my men again."
"I have no doubts about Himura's suitability for war. I'm sure he could have a great career in the Kiheitai." Katsura smiled pleasantly, subtly clenching his hands into a white-knuckled fist inside his sleeve. "If he recovers from his injuries, you can suggest the transfer to him. If he so desires, I'll allow it. However, I do have a great need for his talents and unique reputation in the capital scene."
Yamagata smiled in satisfaction. "Thank you, Kido-san. I'll surely do so."
"By all means," Katsura allowed, keeping his expression carefully neutral.
Oh, Yamagata-san could try all he wanted to poach his best man, but if there was one thing Katsura knew he could trust, it was Kenshin's loyalty. However, letting Yamagata try… it was very important for their future working relationship.
Regrettably, it was clear Yamagata was no second-coming of Takasugi. No, Yamagata was a thinker and a cunning man, a marvelous tactician and army commander, but he didn't share the same vision he and Takasugi had learned together, all those years ago, under Yoshida Shoin's tutelage.
Tomoe's shawl was ruined.
The delicate pale blue cloth had faded in places to a murky, brownish tan after intensive washing and still, the bloodstains were clearly visible. Even her beautiful embroideries had started to loosen and unravel in places. But it was still hers, one of the very few things he had left of her, and having it with him had saved his life. Somehow, years and miles beyond the grave, Tomoe had sacrificed something of herself and once again, saved his life.
It made him feel unworthy.
Kenshin rubbed his chest, trying to relieve the ache the thought brought. Oh gods, how he missed her.
Yet… He wasn't dead. He wasn't sure why.
By all reason and logic, he should be dead. He had pushed past his limits and blacked out in the worst possible moment, when the enemy warship had run aground on the beach. He shouldn't have made it through the battle onshore, let alone woken up weeks later in a field hospital.
But here he was, alive and breathing, though still very weak.
He was badly anemic and pale, enough so that the doctor had remarked he could pass for a court lady or a maiko without needing to paint his face white. Kenshin hadn't had the energy to protest, but judging by how ghastly the skin on his hands looked… maybe there was some truth to the words.
His stomach was covered in bandages, but he had seen the small, puckered bullet wound in his left side when the nurse had changed them. Strange, how such a small wound could cause so much trouble. It didn't look nearly as alarming as some of the other injuries he had suffered before, but then again, what he saw was far from the real extent of the damage. In that one lightning fast thrust, the bullet had gone through his body, breaking through blood vessels and muscles with ease. Just a hint to the right, and his inner organs would have been pierced and with bad enough luck, various bodily fluids could have seeped out of them, poisoning him from the inside.
A disturbing thought.
Kenshin stroked his stomach, trying to imagine it… then shuddered and lifted his left hand for inspection.
His thumb was tightly wrapped, but the doctor had warned him not to trust his grip again. Most likely, the joint would be loose for the rest of his life and could pop out when stressed. It shouldn't give his daily life much difficulty; he should be able to do most everyday things, maybe even handle sword work after giving his thumb time to heal, but he couldn't trust his grip, not like he could with his right hand. On the flipside, if he ever needed to escape tight bonds again, dislocating it on purpose should be easy enough.
When it came to anything else… Kenshin didn't know much. He had woken up two days ago, but all anyone had told him was to take it easy and give his ailing body time to heal. However, given the number of weak, flickering ki presences around him and how the only people moving about seemed to be either doctors, nurses, or a few Choshuu samurai and their women, Kenshin gathered that the Kiheitai and the rest of their troops had packed up and departed.
Apparently, he had fought in a war for a single day and then lay unconscious on his back for the rest of the excitement.
So strange.
Well, most likely Katsura-san would let him know at some point what he wanted him to do, by message or something.
Speaking of messages, the doctor had given him the strangest letter this morning. It was very politely worded, filled with praise for Kenshin's "heroic achievement" and how "he could have a promising army career" and how "Katsura-san had agreed to transfer him if he so desired." Even if Kenshin hadn't had trouble reading the fine calligraphy, the message would have been confusing. Nothing he had done was particularly heroic. And transferring back to the Kiheitai? Why on earth would he want to have an army career?
Adding to his bafflement was that apparently, this message came directly from Yamagata-san, as the acting commander of the Kiheitai. The last he recalled, Yamagata hadn't been particularly enthusiastic about seeing him. So what had changed? Had something happened when he had been unconscious? Had the commander gotten hit in the head or something, to start spouting such outrageous ideas?
The door flap to his tent was pulled open all of a sudden, and instead of a doctor or nurse, the massive form of Yasu-san peeked inside. "Well, look! The sleeping beauty is awake at last!"
"O… er," Kenshin gaped at the choice of words, but before he could figure out a proper greeting in turn, Yasu-san hopped inside on a pair of crutches and Kenshin's gaze fell down the man's injured leg and even lower, below the knee, which just… wasn't there.
Kenshin paled. "What happened!"
"Oh, this?" Yasu glanced down, then snorted dryly, "Don't bother your pretty head about it. The doctor cut it off. Said I'd die of fever otherwise; dirt in the wound or some such. I don't blame him. I've seen people with wound rot. Not a nice death, that."
"But, but…" Kenshin gaped, his eyes wide with horror.
This… This was beyond his understanding. Sure, no one had told him anything. The only thing he knew of the aftermath came from that letter where Yamagata lauded him as a hero for the success of the mission without actually telling him anything important, like what had happened to the others. The doctors and nurses had given him similar empty compliments. But how could they call him a hero, if this was the price of his stubbornness? He remembered Yasu's wound. Back in the fourth ship, it hadn't been more than a hindrance for the man, not worth cutting off his leg. So this, this had to have come later, which meant that the person who had dragged him back through the battle on the beach had to have been…
"…It was you. You saved my life."
Yasu looked aside. "Eh, someone had to."
"How can you say that!" Kenshin gasped, his heart thundering in his ribcage. "Your leg… you lost your leg because of me!"
"No, I didn't." Yasu turned to him, his voice taking on the hint of a growl. "Don't kid yourself, son. I did what I had to do, but so did you – and because of your stubbornness, we got that last warship, too. Everyone's saying it turned the tide of the battle, that we won because of it. We won – against impossible odds, we won. And if my leg was the cost, I paid it gladly."
"But," Kenshin swallowed slowly, feeling rather small and insignificant. "But I, ah… um, that is to say, what about your life? The Kiheitai? What will you do?"
"Who knows? I'll figure something out." Yasu said dismissively. "I'm alive and that's more than I expected. Hell, that's a far better deal than most of my friends got, sinking to a watery grave. Besides, I don't need to work for my living anymore. I got a nice pension and a place to stay near Hagi. That fancy politician, Kido-san, arranged it for me as thanks."
"Ah… he did? That's good," Kenshin agreed, somewhat dazed. With relief coursing through his body, he slumped down, which of course disagreed rather badly with the wound in his side.
He hissed, pressing his hand against it.
"Tch," Yasu scoffed, and hobbled closer to him, sitting awkwardly on the stool the doctor had left close to the bed. "You really need to start learning to put things into perspective, son. Here you are, worrying about others when you are pale as a ghost yourself."
Kenshin reddened a bit at the comment. "This unworthy one's not that bad, that he isn't."
"And there you go again – back to this one and that it is. What's up with that?" Yasu raised an eyebrow.
"O… er," Kenshin blinked, "Um… what's wrong with it?"
Yasu shot him a look. "No one your age speaks like that. Actually, scratch that – the only person I have ever heard using that old-timey speech was the old, sneering samurai who came to claim my farm to settle my debts."
That explained some things. Mainly, Yasu's instant dislike of him when they first met, but… "It's just easier, that it is." Kenshin looked down at his lap and fiddled with his blankets. "This one isn't a samurai, he has never been one, but it's easier to be this unworthy one and use polite address than to look people in the eye, so it is."
Silence landed between them, but then Yasu groaned tiredly, "There you go again, speaking nonsense. The hell if I understand half of what you say when you get all twisted up like that, boy."
Kenshin glanced up, but Yasu didn't elaborate.
Instead, the soldier turned to look at the tent's door flap and the shadow before it. "Yu, is that you?" Yasu shouted. "Then come in already! The boy is awake and coherent – well, mostly coherent. Maybe you can talk some sense into him!"
"Oh?" The man asked cheerfully, then stepped inside. He was from the fourth ship? "Hello there, Himura-san! You're finally awake then!"
"Er… Hello," Kenshin answered, somewhat hesitant.
"Don't mind the boy, Yu," Yasu cut in. "Half the time he speaks, it comes out as confusing nonsense wrapped in fancy words." Then he turned to Kenshin. "Anyways, me and Yu have a couple things to speak to you about. Firstly, there's a rumor in the camp that Yamagata-san offered you a place in the Kiheitai."
"…Um, yes? He left this unworthy one a letter about it, so he did." Kenshin hesitated, but then forged ahead. "Obviously, this one is going to turn him down."
"Why would you do that?" Yu stared at him. "Isn't this the best thing that could happen to you?"
Kenshin knew it was a good offer and part of him could understand why Yasu and the stranger, Yu, seemed so baffled. But the thing was, Kenshin hadn't been able to consider accepting it, even for a second. "This unworthy one… hates killing," he finally said, avoiding their eyes. "This one's leader, Kido-san, knows it and respects it, that he does."
"So you'd rather work as a hitokiri? Murdering people at the beck and call of some shady politician?" Yasu scoffed incredulously. "You know, at first I thought you a glorified killer, someone who had been groomed to it from a young age. But out there on the warships, you fought harder than anyone I'd ever seen. You saved my men and gave us all a victory. True, there were losses – there always are, in war. But it all balances out anyway. So what if I lost my leg and got discharged? Thanks to it, my pal Yu got promoted. So Himura – look up and be proud, or I'll kick your ass and make your pretty face see sense!"
Yasu finished his tirade by standing up on his crutches proudly, his back straight and his ki flaring in challenge, like a king declaring his will over his domain.
"O… er, that is," Kenshin stammered. Unable to find the words, he swallowed, closed his eyes briefly and then struggled to sit up, meeting Yasu's eyes directly. "This one… I, ah… I'm sorry, that I am. And thank you, for everything."
Yasu smiled.
Then he hobbled closer and clapped Kenshin on the shoulder like a comrade.
The force of the hit made Kenshin almost topple over, but by some miracle, he managed to keep his balance.
"Ah, man… look at you!" Yasu burst into laughter. "The horrible Battousai, slayer of hundreds and destroyer of black ships, weak as a kitten."
"Yasu, give the boy some slack." Yu huffed fondly from the sidelines. "He almost died. You have been up on your feet for weeks now, he just woke up two days ago."
"Sure, Yu – sure," Yasu said. "But don't think for a second I didn't see you grin."
Kenshin blushed, but nevertheless, tried to sit up straight again. It was mortifying enough to appear so weak in the presence of other men; the last thing he needed was for them to realize how sick he truly was.
A close by ki presence flickered in curiosity and Kenshin looked up, somewhat startled. It was Yu, and for some reason, Yasu's friend was looking at him a bit strangely, like he had a question on his mind.
"Is something wrong?" Kenshin asked.
"Oh, it's nothing." The man shook his head, but then shrugged and asked, "It's just… forgive my curiosity, but as a man of faith, I couldn't help but notice that you use ki internally – or am I mistaken?"
"…That's true." Kenshin blinked, thoroughly puzzled. How had Yu known that? And a man of faith, what did that have to do with anything?
"I don't use ki myself. I never had the talent for it, I'm afraid," Yu hurried to explain. "But back at the monastery in the Miune mountains in Tosa, some people trained in the principles of it. None of them used it like you do, but I have seen people reinforce their weapons with it. And a few times, I saw someone dabbling in brief internal manipulation to perform impossible feats, but when they failed to control the flow…" Yu grimaced. "It's a terrible sight to see. People have destroyed organs with it. Yet you use it so casually, like it's easy, just another ability. I'd bet good money that the sect would be interested in your knowledge."
Kenshin frowned. "Unfortunately, the way this unworthy one uses ki is one of a kind, that it is. This one doubts anyone could replicate it even if they tried, that he does." He paused, then continued apologetically, "Also, the logic of it is based on the principles of this one's sword style… and those secrets are not this one's to give away, that they aren't."
Although obviously puzzled, the former monk didn't insist, merely inclining his head in acceptance.
Kenshin sighed with relief.
Even now, he believed in his heart that Hiten Mitsurugi's way of using ki belonged only in the hands of two: the master and apprentice, to be used for the betterment of the people, not for anyone to study or use in the name of some faith. And while Kenshin had abandoned his Master and joined the Ishin Shishi to fight for what he believed would lead to a better era for all people… even after all the terrible choices and failures he had made in the name of that belief, he couldn't betray the creed of Hiten Mitsurugi.
And more, behind all that… was the knowledge that he was only the apprentice. He wasn't worthy of sharing anything he knew.
That right belonged only to the Master.
"…Right." Yasu cleared his throat awkwardly. "Okay, funky spiritual mumbo jumbo stuff aside, what are you gonna do next, son?"
"O… er," Kenshin hesitated, but thankful for the change in topic, he shrugged awkwardly. "Um, most likely this one will stay here until Kido-san contacts him, that he will."
"I see." Yasu nodded. "Then thank him for me as well, will you?"
Kenshin blinked, startled. "…Alright."
"Hey, don't look so baffled." Yasu grinned. "I'm healthy enough to leave, so there's no way in hell I'm gonna stick around here any longer than I have to. Thanks to that Kido of yours, I have money to blow on drink and ladies… and a good place to crash when I don't feel like drinking anymore."
Yasu lopped a lazy salute in his direction, before hobbling to the tent's door flap that Yu was holding open for him. There, he paused one last time and shot a look over his shoulder. "Son… try to look after yourself, alright? And if you get a chance, come visit me in Hagi. I'll take you out for the wildest night of your life!"
The following summer was, in a way, one long victory march for Choshuu and for all the Ishin Shishi. One battle at the time, Choshuu defeated the Bakufu's armies on four different fronts, showing not only the cunning of their leaders, and determination and battle prowess of the Kiheitai, but also how very weak the Tokugawa Shogunate had become. And now that Satsuma and Choshuu had entered into an alliance, many more provinces were expressing interest in joining the coalition. This all made Katsura-san extremely satisfied, but also extremely busy – too busy to take a side tour to the province to pick up his injured bodyguard.
So, in late June, after Kenshin was finally up on his feet and wondering whether he should go to Hagi along with rest of the hospital crew, he received a message from Katsura-san, calling him back to Kyoto. Katsura-san had arranged everything for the trip; money and passage by ship from Hagi to Osaka.
There was no particular hurry for his return. The doctors had strongly suggested that he convalesce for the summer before even thinking of returning to duty, but the ugly fact was that Kenshin had been getting more and more restless lately. Waiting and fiddling his thumbs didn't sit right with him.
So while he could have stopped in Hagi for the night and sought out Yasu… he didn't.
He wasn't entirely sure why.
It was just, what was there to celebrate? They had held their own, but they hadn't won – not yet. Despite their successes during the summer, the Bakufu was far from beaten: case in point, despite the unofficial ceasefire, there was no talk of a truce yet. The Bakufu troops had just stopped pressing for an advantage.
So put like that, there was really no question at all. Kenshin passed through Hagi without so much as stopping for a meal, finding the ship Katsura-san had arranged for him as passage to Osaka. From there, he chose to walk, rather than ride, to Kyoto. Given his general weakness, it was not a particularly fast way to travel, but at least he could set the pace himself, without worrying what a four-legged beast of burden might decide to do.
He arrived in Kyoto at the beginning of the seventh month without much fanfare. The conical reed hat he had bought at the harbor hid his hair from casual looks and Tomoe's scarf, as stained as it was, covered his scar. By all appearances he looked like a penniless ronin down his luck, heading to the capital in search of better opportunities.
Given how none of the Bakufu samurai keeping watch along the roads pulled him aside for questioning, like they did to any suspicious looking character coming into town, Kenshin concluded his sloppy disguise was far more convincing than he had thought.
However, when even Katsura-san paled at the sight of him… perhaps he just looked that sorry.
The doctor Katsura-san called to examine him decided that the gunshot wound was healing as well as could be expected; the stitches had been removed back at the Kiheitai field hospital and it was just a red, ugly, puckered scar in his side. However, his main problem was anemia and the resulting undernourishment. The disgusting diet that was supposed to replenish his blood had robbed him of his appetite and as a result, he had lost a lot of weight.
Honestly, it was no wonder that he felt so weak.
Unfortunately, there was no simple solution to the dilemma. Kenshin had been a picky eater long before this, and thought he tried his best to eat more, it wasn't easy. The food tasted like ash and blood to him and after a certain point, he just couldn't force himself to swallow any more or his stomach would rebel on him.
Another worrying thing – one that Kenshin didn't share with the doctor or Katsura-san – was that his overused ki had been very slow to replenish and even now, his ki-burned muscles felt sore. It was his own problem and compared to the rest of his injuries, Kenshin didn't think it was much of an issue.
Sadly, there wasn't anything he could do for the Ishin Shishi or Katsura-san until he was healthy. So in the meantime, Katsura-san took on another bodyguard and ordered Kenshin to recuperate at the Choshuu-patronized inn he had stayed previously, the same one where Ito-san's men were staying.
He was welcomed back with respectful nods, followed by subtle second looks noting the slight tremors running through his hands, his paleness, and the gauntness of his cheeks.
It stung, a bit.
He wasn't an invalid! He'd been shot and nearly bled to death, but he was still walking, wasn't he? The last thing he needed was pity, for fuck's sake.
If there was one good thing about the uneasy cease-fire back in Choshuu, it was that the Capital had become surprisingly peaceful – for anyone not important enough. The imperial court and political arena were in chaos due to the Bakufu's shameful defeat. Everyone was vying for favor and busy trying to save face, but all that frantic political backstabbing hadn't yet come to bother the ordinary folk, or samurai and men like Kenshin, who were waiting at the beck and call of their lords. True, everyone was wary. Things could still go south, but for now, the Bakufu seemed too busy with in-fighting to dedicate much time to hunting rebels.
What that meant in practice… was that for the first time in ages, Kenshin had a lot of free time and nothing to fill it with. He didn't particularly want to stay in the inn, but most things he usually filled his hours with, such as practicing swordsmanship, were flat out forbidden for him.
So after sitting inside for a couple days, eating as much as he could and resting, he finally had enough of it. Donning his shoddy disguise, Kenshin left for town, bought flowers, and headed to her grave, to spend time with her.
It was stupid, reckless… and altogether just what he had needed.
So despite the danger, Kenshin took to visiting her daily.
He knew the conical reed hat and Tomoe's shawl weren't much of a disguise – even in the best case scenario they wouldn't ward off people's suspicions for long. Already, people were starting to notice him, and given how bloody Battousai's reputation was, and how his achievements in battle had merely fed the flames, he really needed to come up with something better.
Part of the problem was that the few options he had tried so far weren't much of a disguise at all, nor particularly effective at hiding his tell-tale looks. Even when he wrapped his hair in a messy bun at the nape of his neck, the hat didn't cover all of it. Tomoe's scarf was so stained, so worn that it just screamed, "look at me, I'm hiding something." Even when he left it back at the inn and tried passing as an ordinary youth, dressing in his summer yukata and not carrying any visible weapons… well, no one said anything to his face, but he got his fair share of evaluating looks. Worse, given how often he visited the flower vendors or stopped to buy a snack, in hopes that eating outside, and not in front of the suffocating audience at the inn, would make that task easier, the regulars at the marketplace were starting to remember him, greeting him and inquiring after his well-being.
Kenshin was acutely aware how thin the ice was getting.
How long would it take until someone added two and two together and got seven? The Bakufu's price for aiding Battousai's capture was still there, up for anyone to claim.
Paranoia driving him, Kenshin began to vary his routes, seeking out other merchants to visit. Kyoto was a large town, the spiritual center of the country, and thus there were several temples and no lack of flower vendors or street stalls selling something to eat or to drink in the sweltering summer heat. All these little purchases were piling up, making his money pouch lighter, but then again – he had been saving his stipend for quite a while. He could afford these little things, if for no other reason than to keep him sane.
Despite his best efforts, Kenshin couldn't help but feel all these precautions just weren't enough. But what else could he do to keep people from connecting him to Hitokiri Battousai?
Lady Ikumatsu had once recommended he think what the rumors said and try to subvert them on purpose, to drive people's gazes away by dressing in a different manner than Battousai ought to.
However, his clothing options were... limited. And even if he could spend money on getting something new to wear into town, what should he buy?
Honestly, Kenshin had no idea.
Most of his clothing was very similar; gray hakama, kimono in dark colors, done in practical cotton or fancy silk. Everything had been picked for work, not for leisure. Come to think of it, had he ever chosen a piece of clothing for himself? What did people his age wear in the streets? And how would that help to protect him from being recognized?
…Gods, why had his life become so difficult?
Kenshin slumped to sit against her grave and buried his face in his hands with frustrated desperation.
If only he hadn't been so stubborn, things would be much easier now. He groaned, then straightened, eyeing his ragged ponytail darkly. The red shone in the afternoon light like copper tinted with flames. It was so bright, so noticeable, and now that it came down to his buttocks, the sheer length made it really inconvenient. No matter how he tried, he couldn't hide it under hats properly; some of it always slipped free from his hair ties and tumbled down his back. Despite that, he wasn't going to cut it.
She had liked it long.
Besides, seeing sunlight was one of the few things he took pleasure in these days, so the sooner he could ditch the hat, the better. But what else could he do to disguise himself?
It was a dilemma, indeed.
Perhaps, it was no wonder that Kenshin turned to Lady Ikumatsu once again for advice.
She was of the opinion that a big part of his problem came from the fact that he didn't look like a child any longer. Although he was short enough to pass for a boy, he had lost a lot of weight and as a result his features had sharpened, making him look older. Lady Ikumatsu also noted that he had grown taller and gotten broader in the shoulders since the winter. Kenshin didn't really believe her, but then she boldly wanted to measure his height, and it was true, somehow he had finally passed five feet – if only by an inch.
In a way, it was nice to hear that he had grown.
But on the other hand, it was kinda pathetic, wasn't it? He was seventeen now. He didn't have much time left to grow and most ladies were taller than that.
Well, it didn't help crying over something he couldn't change. He had been born scrawny, and it seemed that was the way he was going to be for the rest of his life.
However, when it came to his search for a better disguise…
Lady Ikumatsu's first suggestion was to dye his hair. Wigs used in her work were dyed black and it wouldn't be difficult to get the color for him. Of course, he would need to keep dyeing his hair every couple weeks, every time his roots began to show. The same went for his eyebrows. If he didn't want to have ill-matching colors, he would need to attend to those too. Or perhaps he could pluck his brows or paint over them like some geiko and maiko did?
The more she explained her idea, the more hesitant Kenshin became. It wasn't just how tedious it sounded in practice, but also, what about the moments when he needed to look like Battousai? True, he was on sick leave at the moment, but what if Katsura needed to have a bodyguard bearing the rare and easily recognizable features of Choshuu's legendary killer? And what about later? When he got back to his duty, he wanted his opponents to know who they were facing, just so they could realize how dire the threat was – that had been the reason why he had let his description become known in the first place!
So really, there was only one answer to her suggestion.
"No," Kenshin said softly. "Thank you, but it would be better to have a… less permanent solution, that it would."
"Then…" Lady Ikumatsu hesitated, "Himura-kun, how delicate is your pride?"
Kenshin didn't know how to answer her. He didn't think of himself as being particularly prideful, and these days, he didn't care much what people thought of him. But when Lady Ikumatsu suggested that he either use his feminine looks to his advantage or cultivate foolish and flamboyant behavior to make people dismiss his odd looks...
Well, he wasn't one to lie, he wasn't much of an actor and he didn't have the faintest idea how to go about behaving in a foolish manner, so it seemed he was left with only one option. Admittedly, Kenshin wasn't too excited about it. He was all too aware how the men he was rooming with would take it, but then again, people had mistaken him for a girl before.
So in all honesty, it wasn't that much of a stretch.
For the purpose, Lady Ikumatsu gifted him a kimono. It wasn't exactly lady's wear, but it came with a wider sash and it was cut with a somewhat closer fit than the kimono he was used to wearing. Men's clothing was always a bit loosely cut on the chest and stomach, and on him, they tended to sit in a fairly relaxed manner so that quite a bit of his chest was on display. This kimono… didn't. Or perhaps, it was the wider sash that did the trick?
In any case, it wasn't a particularly odd look, even if the color was a tad loud: purple background covered with a lighter patterns of maple leaves. Kenshin had seen men wearing such colors before, but on him – well, it did look quite girlish.
So whenever Kenshin wanted to visit her grave, or just spend time in town, he took to pinning his hair up to a messy bun with the comb or plain hair ornaments that Lady Ikumatsu had loaned him. It was fairly easy to arrange the longer strands of his bangs so that they covered the scar on his cheek, and then, he dressed in that silly kimono, the sash tied high. If people mistook him for a girl, a kabuki actor preparing for a role, or an entertainer from Shimabara out on a stroll, he didn't care.
Though he did carry his wakizashi up his sleeve, for safety and peace of mind.
Not only to defend himself in case things went sour and the Shinsengumi or some other Bakufu member tried to arrest him, but because he was starting to become more and more aware of the admiring glances he was getting.
So no, he wasn't going anywhere unarmed – period.
What was with people, both men and women, looking at him like that anyway? It made him feel like something unpleasant was crawling on his skin. He didn't have any interest whatsoever in any sort of intimacy with anyone.
He was hardly functioning, and even now, his heart still ached for her.
The new daytime look was a source of hilarity among the Choshuu men Kenshin roomed with, but because they knew him as… well, one who desired affection from other men, they seemed to think the new clothes and his dabbling with his hairstyle were just part of his quirks, like the old-fashioned speech pattern he insisted on using, or how he slept sitting up.
The saddest thing about the whole spectacle was that it worked. In the following weeks, Kenshin went anywhere he wanted and lingered as long as he felt like in the crowded streets and not once did he notice even one suspicious second glance, nor catch a whiff of gossip about him looking like Hitokiri Battousai.
At the end of summer, Kenshin was finally deemed healthy again and he went back on the job, guarding Katsura-san when required, as well as protecting their men on missions and running other miscellaneous errands. Given how little trouble they ran across, Kenshin was beginning to believe that the revolution was finally coming to an end. That their dream of a new era would come true and soon, there would come a day when his sword wasn't needed anymore.
He had no idea what he would do when that happened, but the very thought was enough to make his heart feel lighter.
Sometimes, when visiting her, he even dared to speak out loud about these hesitant hopes, about how soon he could finally keep his promise to her – to never kill again.
Oh, it would be a wonderful day.
Then, at the beginning of the ninth month, everything changed – and not for the better – when it was publically announced that the Shogun, Tokugawa Iemochi, had died from a long-standing illness.
After a brief period of chaos back in Edo, the new Shogun, Tokugawa Yoshinobu, was chosen.
The new Shogun didn't waste time, immediately setting up negotiations for a formal cease-fire with Choshuu, thus ending Iemochi's desperate gambit, now called the second Choshuu expedition. With the leader of the Bakufu's failed war campaign dead, the Bakufu managed to save face and began calming down the provincial politicians and the chaos at the Imperial court, to the rebel's great misfortune.
The new Shogun didn't stop there; he began to push for modernization, making one capable decision after another for the sake of strengthening the country. Suddenly, the politicians and men in power who had been swaying towards the rebel agenda were stepping back, biding their time – waiting to see what would happen. Many were looking at the new Shogun Yoshinobu as a chance to save the old governmental system and the Shogun's position as the leader of the country in these turbulent times.
So only a short while after everything had seemed to be going in the Ishin Shishi's favor and the taste of victory had been on their tongues… they were back to square one.
The dark mood among the rebels seemed universal.
The political chaos affected Kenshin and the men he was lodging with in the northern quarter of Kyoto, too – albeit in a far more personal manner. Since Ito-san had been transferred back to Choshuu for lighter duties, they lacked a direct superior to lead them on missions, assign them duties, handle their pay, and take care of whatever concerns they might have.
Now, they were finally assigned a replacement.
Even Katsura-san was sorry about the choice. "I don't much care for the man. He is a sneaky weasel, but unfortunately, he has a slippery tongue and he is very well connected among the higher echelons of Ishin Shishi. I could step in, but not without a significant reason. And as of now, Nakamura is qualified for the post." Katsura-san noticed Kenshin's thinly-veiled grimace, then added, "But it something happens... If the situation becomes truly difficult, then tell me. I'll do something about it then."
There was little Kenshin could say to that, so he merely nodded and let the matter drop. He had fairly thick skin these days and in general, he didn't care what people thought of him. But to have a man who was petty enough to carry a grudge against him for their past interactions as his closest superior?
How could he not be worried?
Worse, he could read Katsura-san's cues well enough to pick up on the fact that for some reason, his leader couldn't protest Nakamura's nomination to the post without incurring a significant loss. And that was something Kenshin couldn't ask from his leader, not for the sake of his comfort. Besides, all he had were fears and doubts based on past transgressions. He didn't know for certain if Nakamura would be as, ah… difficult a man as he remembered him being.
It could very well be that Nakamura had changed, couldn't it?
And even he hadn't, Kenshin thought with no small distaste, he could be the better man and ignore Nakamura's issues and just focus on the job.
Not a week later, Kenshin and the nine other Choshuu samurai he had been living with on and off for over a year were assigned to guard an Ishin Shishi leadership meeting. The attendance was composed of influential men from three domains; Satsuma, Choshuu and the newly joined Tosa. This was not a formal meeting between provinces, but rather an attempt to collaborate their rebel activities. None of the power players, like Katsura-san, Saigo-san, Okubo-san, or Sakamoto-san were present, but instead, this was a chance for their advisors and middlemen working in Kyoto to get to know each other.
As Choshuu was hosting the meeting in the Northern district, it was Nakamura's responsibility to see to the arrangements and handle the security. Frankly, quite a few of Nakamura's decisions seemed over the top for such a simple meeting: for example, his insistence on having Kenshin by his side in the meeting room itself. Most people chalked these things up to Nakamura being overly cautious about his new duty, but Kenshin wasn't so sure.
Nakamura was a man who took pleasure in displaying his power.
And really, sitting at Nakamura's side, it reminded him far too much of how Katsura-san had often used Hitokiri Battousai's legend to his advantage. Even Katsura-san pulling stunts like this had bothered Kenshin on some level, but his leader held his loyalty and it was a tactic that advanced their joint cause.
What Nakamura was doing, though… was just pathetic.
But his superior had given him orders and this meeting was of some importance, so he really couldn't protest. Besides, what difference did it make if he sat inside the meeting room or outside of it? So Kenshin just sighed, and tried his best to ignore the subtle stares everyone seemed to be shooting at his hair and the scar on his cheek, and how after each and every one of those looks, Nakamura seemed to preen in self-important smugness.
It was nearing midnight when Kenshin felt a squadron of defined ki presences nearing their location. No other rebel units were supposed to come near here tonight and civilians didn't have defined ki like that, which meant that a Bakufu troop was getting dangerously close. Provincial samurai rarely moved in an organized manner like that, the Mimawarigumi wouldn't be this far outside of their patrol areas… so that left the Shinsengumi.
…And shit, there was the cold, calculating presence he could recognize in his sleep: the captain of the third squadron, Saito Hajime. Kenshin hurried to mask his own ki. With his fingers on his sword's handle, he stood up and said, "Nakamura-san… we have to leave."
Everyone turned to stare at him – one could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed his proclamation.
But then, Nakamura demanded, "Why?"
"The Shinsengumi, the third squadron," Kenshin bit off, tense as a bowstring, his attention riveted on the flickers of ki nearing them.
"Alright." Nakamura nodded, rising to his feet as well. "Let's get ready to retreat. I'll go prepare the men for battle. Himura, you will escort our guests to safety."
Kenshin stared, his eyes widening in disbelief. But… That doesn't make any sense! I've always covered the retreats! "Nakamura-san," he protested. "This one would be a far better suited to defend…"
"You'll do as I command!" Nakamura bit out. "Our guests' safety is paramount in this situation. You are the best fighter here and the smaller the group retreating, the better chance you'll have to escape from the ambush! So move it!"
For a second, Kenshin couldn't do anything but stand there in stunned confusion, too distracted by the anger stirring in the pit of his belly from having his opinion overridden to even protest.
And then, it was far too late.
Nakamura barked orders to the Choshuu men, commanding them to create a distraction so the guests could escape. It was sheer lunacy. Kenshin knew exactly what Saito's famous squadron was capable of and these Choshuu samurai couldn't defeat them. Worse, Saito's group had more men.
Oh, gods! What should he do?
He couldn't disobey Nakamura, not in front of all these leaders – it would reflect badly on Katsura-san. But that was Saito! One of the best swordsmen in the whole country! No one here but him could stop Saito, not even if they gave it their all. But at the same time, Kenshin had been ordered to escort the rebel leaders to safety and he didn't have time to argue.
So he scowled and hurried after the escaping leaders led by Nakamura, knowing he couldn't afford to look back to count the flickers of ki dying out behind him. A helpless anger stirred inside him, a real rage – no, fury. He hadn't been friends with these men, but they had respected his boundaries and left him alone. Not even once had they treated him like he was an insane murderer they ought to be wary of, either. No, for them he had been just another rebel; a famous swordsman, yes – but also just a little guy who was odd and somewhat quirky.
In a way, those men… had been his comrades.
And now they were dying, trying to do a job that should by all reason and logic belong to him.
What made it worse was that the escape went without a hitch. They didn't encounter any other Bakufu men. No one was laying in wait to ambush them on their way to safety. Without a single complication, all the guests made it to the safe house and after they caught their breath, they complimented Nakamura for his leadership and excellent planning, before slipping away into the night.
Kenshin and Nakamura were left alone to wait for the rest of their men, pacing like a pair of moody, anxious cats.
In situations like these, it was customary to stay in the safe house and wait for the stragglers to catch up with them, not to double back and try to help. The defenders either made it to safety or they did not. If they died, there was nothing anyone could do to help them, and if they had gotten captured – without backup, it was considered too dangerous to try to take on the Bakufu squadron that managed the feat. Only when they knew there were survivors, could they attempt to help.
Kenshin had never, ever needed to wait for others. He had always been the last one to get to safety and often, Ito-san had walked him back to the inn. Restlessness and helpless rage churned inside him, threatening to break through the thin veneer of calm he was clinging to. He couldn't afford to lose his temper, not here. So carefully, he settled to wait by the doorway and concentrated on breathing steadily, trying to keep his emotions under control.
His ki was edgy, ready to respond to the slightest stimuli. This waiting, this tension was nearly unbearable.
Nakamura was pacing just a couple feet from him. Sweat dripped from his brow and he grasped his hands tightly behind his back, trying to look dignified, but at best, projected the demeanor of a rabid weasel.
"Where are they? They should be here by now!" Nakamura snarled, turning on his heels once more.
Kenshin exhaled slowly, letting his breath flow through his teeth. His fingers gripped the cloth of his sleeves as he struggled to hold back his instinctive retort. Nakamura was already agitated. If Kenshin projected his own black mood on him, it would help neither of them. Quite the contrary. If they got into a fight now, they wouldn't be ready to help the men they were waiting for.
But still, for god's sake, couldn't Nakamura stop pacing?
Somehow, that single nervous act was wearing on Kenshin's already shredded nerves like nothing else.
It was bad enough that he had all but known that this would happen when the self-centered idiot assigned to command them had chosen to send their men to the wolves. Such stupidity, and it could have been so easily avoided! If only Nakamura had listened to him!
Kenshin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. I can't lose my temper, not here. It would just give Nakamura more ammunition against me.
But really, he should have simply ignored Nakamura's orders. He had known what would happen. He knew their men would lose against Saito's, and the Shinsengumi wasn't known for their mercy. Whoever they didn't kill, they would capture and torture for information, then execute as traitors.
I should have been there, not here.
He could have been out there, buying time for everyone participating in this blasted guard mission to get to safety, not just the guests.
But that Nakamura… why did Nakamura give such a stupid order? Why? What could he gain from killing off most of his men? Kenshin tensed with the weight of realization. What if Nakamura hadn't known how he fought? Hadn't known how to use his men to the best advantage? What if Nakamura had chosen to make such a stupid decision again out of ignorance?
"Nakamura-san," Kenshin started. "This unworthy one covers the retreats. Even against overwhelming odds or the Shinsengumi's famous commanders, this unworthy one can buy enough time for our men to get to safety, that he can. However, your orders…"
Before he could finish, Nakamura's face twisted in an ugly grimace, and then he was right before Kenshin, face to face. "Shut up! You may be Kido's dog, but now I hold your leash!" Nakamura shouted at him, his spit flying all over Kenshin's face. "You don't have the right to question my orders, not now or ever! You are just a murderer, a fucking murderer Kido uses as long as he needs to!"
And Kenshin's temper snapped.
The anger twisting in his guts bloomed into a red hot rage, spreading through him like wildfire. He gasped, his right hand flying to the hilt of his sword, his fingers clenching around it in a white-knuckled grip as his ki exploded around him in a whirlwind of pure energy, slashing and cutting and gouging the floor, the walls, and Nakamura's outreached hand—
"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
The screeching wail tore through the haze of anger around Kenshin, and eyes wide with panic, he panted, the smell of blood fogging his nostrils.
Blood…
Why is there blood?
Nakamura was lying on the floor, screaming and cradling his hand like a dying thing.
What have I done?
The realization hit him like a stone wall dropped on his shoulders. The sheer weight of his mistake struck him, panic flooding his veins. One by one, Kenshin pried his fingers from the hilt of his katana, dread rising at the back of his throat. He had almost drawn a blade on his superior. He had almost killed one of his fellow rebels. Oh, gods.
As if sleepwalking, Kenshin swallowed and took a hesitant step forward, to see if there was anything he could do to help…
Nakamura looked up at him as he sat up, cradling his wounded hand to his chest, his eyes filled with hate. "Insane…" he gasped. "You're insane! A mad dog! Just like a mad dog!"
"Kenshin – an incident like this cannot happen again," Katsura-san said gravely. "I understand you were sorely provoked by Nakamura's, ah, unthinking words and didn't actually draw steel against him, but you both were at fault. I have been instructed to reprimand you, and Nakamura, too, has received criticism. He has been instructed to let you cover the retreats should such a situation arise again. When it comes to the rest… this incident will be brushed aside and forgotten, but you two are expected to work together for now."
Kenshin nodded slightly, hiding his eyes behind his overlong bangs. He couldn't remember if he had ever felt as ashamed as he did right now, kneeling in seiza before Katsura-san. They had no audience, but this was the first time Katsura-san had looked at him like this, like he was genuinely disappointed.
A soft sigh pierced the silence.
Kenshin bowed low and whispered, "May this unworthy one be excused?"
"I'll need you as a bodyguard tomorrow," Katsura-san informed him. "But for now… yes. You are free to go."
Kenshin rose to leave. He didn't look up to meet Katsura-san's gaze. He didn't quite dare, not after a failure like this. Instead, he simply turned away and slipped his sword into his sash. He was about to pull the sliding door open, when Katsura-san's voice called after him. "Kenshin. Just be careful."
The words echoed in his head all the way back to the inn.
There was trouble among the Ishin Shishi, it was plain as day – and somehow, it was tying even Katsura-san's hands. Who was pushing Nakamura into a more influential position? What were they gaining from placing Kenshin under Nakamura's command? Why was Katsura-san so wary? Why was he stepping back and acting as if… as if he needed to distance himself from him?
Kenshin bit the inside of his cheek, an uneasy feeling stirring inside him. Were the Ishin Shishi turning against each other now that the Shogun was gaining influence?
When all was said and done, the disastrous clash against Saito's men had resulted in only four wounded defenders making it to the safe house, and Kenshin had stepped in to kill the Shinsengumi troops chasing after them. The five other Choshuu men had died. It was a black mark on Nakamura's record that he had let half of his men get killed during his first important mission, but it brought him no other repercussions. It was chalked up to Nakamura's inexperience as a leader and a lack of familiarity with the men under his command, not as faulty decision making – no, his orders had been considered logical and well-founded.
The death of five men… was just brushed aside and forgotten.
Nakamura would continue to lead the rebels situated in northeastern Kyoto and Kenshin would continue to work under him. Both of them had been reprimanded. The wound Nakamura had suffered to his hand was both trivial and perplexing – because, for all that he had a cut on the back of his hand, most people seemed to believe Katsura-san's assurance that Kenshin had never drawn his sword.
Besides, it was just a scratch. Nakamura had been screaming out of fear, not pain.
It didn't change the fact that Kenshin felt miserable about it.
He couldn't let his anger guide him. She would have hated seeing him like that. No matter how angry he got, he couldn't lose it, not ever again. He still had nightmares from the Forest of Barriers and back then, he had been angry just like that.
No matter what the future would bring, no matter who he became, how stained and broken… he refused to be that vicious and cruel ever again.
Never again.
Thankfully, Nakamura backed off Kenshin's case and became an almost capable leader. Well, in a way. No one seemed to like him and he didn't have the same deft touch that Ito-san had, but he got the job done. However, whenever Nakamura saw Kenshin, he tended to flinch. And sometimes, Kenshin caught the man staring at him, eyes glimmering with hate and fear.
Kenshin couldn't help feeling guilty and ashamed because of it.
The Choshuu rebels suffered another major setback that autumn when Takasugi Shinsaku died. Although it had been a long time coming, Katsura-san was in a dark mood for weeks afterward, burying himself in work.
So did Kenshin.
His life settled into an uneasy routine: he would run one mission after another, kill, kill, and kill. He'd ignore the whispers and gossip-mongering among the men, the looks of fear they directed at him… or the looks of desire. He would visit her grave whenever he could, bringing her little offerings and just talking to her.
Yet, it was becoming harder to keep going, to believe in what they were doing. The shadow war that the revolution had become seemed to continue on and on. Nothing ever changed; politicians plotted and negotiated and the situation took one step forward and then two steps back.
Kenshin was becoming a more efficient killer, managing to do the job with less and less effort. These days, he hardly needed to think when he fought – it was enough to rely on instinct and experience. He wasn't overpowered by grief or shame or guilt. He was always capable of thought, but it was just… the sheer drudgery of the mindless slaughter dulled him.
Maybe that's why he couldn't even enjoy duels with brilliant swordsmen like the Shinsengumi's Saito-san or Okita-san anymore.
Or notice one perfectly obvious problem he'd been having.
"Your form is off, Himura," the swordsmith, Arai Shakku-san, remarked one early winter morning after Kenshin had gone to replace his sheath once again. "That toothpick of a sword is too slight for you. You need a heavier blade, preferably one that's somewhat longer too."
"O… er," Kenshin stammered, completely flummoxed by the comment.
The swordsmith shot him a grin and motioned to the sword in Kenshin's hands. "You have carried the same sword the whole time I have known you, but you have grown and your arms have gotten stronger. Say, when did you get this blade? When you were ten?"
Kenshin froze, thinking back. "This one was eleven," he whispered, eyes wide with shock.
Had it been so long already?
He still remembered it like it was yesterday, the day his master had gifted him this sword. It had been a cherished gift, a sign that Master accepted and cared for him. He had carried it for years, through failures and bad choices, but now…
Kenshin looked down at the sword and drew it from its sheath. The steel was well-balanced, but everywhere on the steel were signs of its age, little hints of how ill-used a weapon it truly was. He took a step back and started slowly going through a kata, just feeling the movements, observing the details.
The katana felt more like an extension of his arm than a sword, but it was true – he was unconsciously adjusting his form to compensate for the blade's ill-fit. He hadn't ever really noticed it, but now his stance had gaps, little openings in his form that most wouldn't ever see. His style was still good and unique and it worked well – oh, he could attest to how well it really worked in action – but it wasn't pure.
This wasn't the swordsmanship Master had taught him all those years ago.
Did it matter?
Kenshin sheathed his sword, then considered. "Sir Arai, there is truth to your words, so there is. But this unworthy one… this sword, it was a gift, that it was. It's been tainted and used badly, but it will suffice for this unworthy one until the madness of the revolution is over, that it will."
The swordsmith raised an eyebrow.
"Well, do as you like," Arai-san finally said. "But it's an unsuitable weapon for you."
"So it is." Kenshin nodded. "But this unworthy one won't taint another blade with blood." He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, looking away. "When the revolution is over and done with… this one will never take another life. It's unnecessary for another blade to suffer through this unworthy one's work."
"The katana is a swordsman's soul, so it is." Kenshin trailed his fingers on his sword's handle. "This sword... has seen it all. It's too short in reach, yes. The weight is too slight for this one to attain perfect form in his kata, but it works well enough."
"Never take another life?" The swordsmith scoffed. "Those are some fancy words for a manslayer. What are you going to do when that day comes?"
Kenshin tilted his face to feel the faint warmth of the winter sun, not bothering to open his eyes. "This one doesn't know, that one doesn't. One has no other skills other than swordsmanship, and in truth, that is what he is in his soul: a swordsman. But this one has made a vow. A killer's blade… This unworthy one doesn't want one on that day."
When Kenshin turned back to Arai-san, the swordsmith was looking at him thoughtfully.
Then, suddenly, a real, warm smile bloomed on the smith's gruff face. "Well, well – we will see about that, won't we? There are plenty of battles to be fought before that day comes. But Himura, in the meantime, let's figure out what we can do about that toothpick of yours."
It was perplexing.
In all the years he had known the Ishin Shishi's prized swordsmith, the man had always been tense, gruff in both words and manner. The man had never liked him, never hesitated to make his disdain clear, and he had never once offered to do more than what was ordered. Even then, most discussions they'd had came down to Arai-san admonishing him for the bad care of his sword.
But after that discussion, Arai-san willingly offered his help for the first time. He thought over Kenshin's dilemma, and then finally refitted his sword with a new handle, one that was longer than average, but lighter, so that the balance wouldn't tip.
To be perfectly honest, Kenshin didn't know what to make of this development. Arai-san was viewed as something of an odd heretic among swordsmiths because he had designed many unusual, even cruel swords that didn't fit with what was considered proper Japanese swordcraft.
Kenshin had heard rumors that Choshuu's current manslayer, a man named Shishio, used one of Arai's blades that was downright mythical. The rumor mill claimed it could spark fire.
However, despite his hesitations, Kenshin found that it didn't take long for him to get used to the new handle. Actually, he quickly saw to the heart of Arai-san's vision. This little change… It was far from a perfect solution as it didn't change the fact that his sword was far too light for him. Of course it didn't, his katana had originally been made for a child. But now that he had a couple inches of additional reach, half the problems he hadn't even realized he'd been having in fights were no longer an issue.
And for some reason, that made Kenshin finally understand that he had grown up, matured. He would never be a large man, true, but he was a man, both in mind and body.
On the day of the New Year, Kenshin was again kneeling at her grave. He was wearing that silly purple kimono, but this time, he had pulled one of his lighter gray hakama over it for warmth. It was a cold morning. Water had frozen in buckets and frost had taken over the ground. The snow hadn't reached the lowlands, but up in the mountains, everything was covered in white, like the nature gods had pulled on a mourning shroud.
Kenshin hated the winter.
Today, exactly two years ago… Tomoe had left for that cursed forest, only to die there in the snow.
It felt like it had happened only yesterday.
And nothing, no matter how many he had killed for the cause, nothing had changed since then. Rebels were still pursued as enemies of the government. He still worked as a bodyguard and helped to protect men in missions.
As had become a habit of his, Kenshin spoke to her. She was his only confidante. There was no one else he could call his friend, no one else to whom he could speak freely. "Love, you forgave this unworthy one, wrote that this one should survive, should continue to fight because it was right. But how could this mad war be right? It just doesn't end."
"And this one… this unworthy one is so tired. At times, it feels like he is nothing but a wet rag wrung out to dry. There is nothing left, nothing but killing. This one's dreams have contained nothing but misery and horror, and every night, they still end with your last breaths. The days are nothing but emptiness, screams, and the smell of blood that clings to this one like a fog. There is nothing left for this one, that there isn't."
His eyes falling shut, Kenshin tried to keep breathing, but there was something squeezing his throat. So instead, he clenched his hands on the cloth of his hakama, took a hard swallow and whispered, "It's never ending. It just doesn't end. This one… I, ah… I just miss you so much, Tomoe, my love. If you were here, I could handle this. But I'm alone, all alone and it's so heavy, this burden…"
He inhaled sharply, then let it out.
"Tomoe, I love you. Please! Please… I'm so sorry."
And the thread holding him upright broke.
He fell down into a deep begging bow; forehead on the ground, hands curled close to his body, seeing nothing, just smelling the cold earth and dirt of her grave. The weight on his chest was overpowering, but he couldn't cry.
There were simply no tears left in him.
Only emptiness.
"You have been very withdrawn lately, far more so than usual."
Kenshin glanced up at Katsura-san walking beside him, then frowned. His leader looked exhausted. There was a notable slouch in his posture and shadows ringed his eyes. Kenshin had never seen him looking so tired and worn out.
But then again, they all were.
"This one… is tired of killing," Kenshin admitted. "The revolution seemed so plausible, so near to success last summer, but now – it's as if nothing even happened, or so it seems."
Katsura-san sighed tiredly. "The situation is very difficult, and I can understand your weariness. Yoshinobu took us all by surprise, proving to be a crafty and capable leader. However, not everyone is supporting his reforms. Even among Bakufu loyalists, there is resistance."
"So there is hope, then?" Kenshin asked.
"Yes and no." Katsura-san shook his head mutely. "The government is nearly bankrupt and the Westerners are upping the pressure. Even the most ignorant are starting to realize that we need to stand united against them. However, many see our rebellion as weakening the country. Even worse, now one of our staunchest allies, Emperor Komei himself, seems to be leaning towards supporting the Shogun's reforms."
Those words felt like nothing less than a prophecy foretelling doom, and Kenshin's heart skipped a beat, his veins flooding with horror. "Then this all will have been for nothing."
Katsura-san didn't answer. His left fist clenched in a white-knuckled fist, his ki moving in dangerous currents.
Silence fell between them.
They walked through the quiet, shadow-cast streets, heading to a safe-house where Katsura-san had been staying for a week. The cold had driven most city-dwellers indoors this late at night. The New Year had been just two weeks ago and for the first time in weeks, Kenshin had been called to escort Katsura-san to a heated council with Satsuma leadership. It seemed that among everything else that was going wrong, there had been multiple incidents of infighting among the rebels. No matter how they tried to get their samurai to collaborate on assignments, it was becoming obvious that Satsuma and Choshuu men didn't mix well.
They needed to stand together, everyone knew it.
Getting the lower ranks used to one another and unite against a common enemy seemed a great idea in theory, very nice and encouraging for their shared agenda. However, in practice… demanding cooperation from bitter enemies wasn't easy. So for now, it had been agreed that the Choshuu and Satsuma ranks would be kept separate.
"Have there been any further problems with Nakamura?" Katsura-san broke the silence.
"O… er… that is, not as such," Kenshin stammered, looking away in shame. His difficulties with his direct superior hadn't come to violence again, but the man had been getting bolder with his dislike. For the last couple months, Kenshin's pay had been late. When everyone else got their stipend, Nakamura had acted surprised that he seemed to have one purse too few with him, and there was nothing to be done, so Kenshin just had to wait…
On top of that, Nakamura had developed a habit of hand-picking the most time-consuming tasks for Kenshin, making sure that they always came at the most annoying hours. It was petty mischief, something everyone in the inn noticed. Perhaps, someone else would have protested, or brought the matter up with another, higher ranked rebel, but the fact was that Kenshin was capable of performing the missions and Nakamura was entitled to assign them to him.
So what if he couldn't manage proper sleep, having to resort to cat-napping whenever he had the slightest opportunity? It wasn't like Kenshin had managed proper sleep in years, even when given ample opportunity for it. And the pay, well, he hadn't cared about money for quite some time. He didn't have much else besides work in his life anyhow. He had no friends, no lovers, no family… it wasn't like anyone was left wanting because his stipend was late or went missing in delivery.
The thing that bothered Kenshin more, was something he had heard from another Choshuu man, Fujiwara-san. Apparently, Nakamura had been telling some higher-ups that Battousai was insane, his bloodlust making him uncontrollable. It was hardly the first time such rumors had been said about him, but lately, Kenshin had heard similar talk about Hitokiri Shishio. And if their own were talking about manslayers as men driven insane by bloodlust, so that they became nothing but mad dogs that needed to be put down…
Could it mean that he, and any other manslayer – men doing the most thankless job among the rebels – were in danger from their own?
The thought was unsettling.
It certainly didn't help Kenshin's peace of mind that those rumors had caused some of the newer men transferred into Nakamura's unit to avoid him.
True, there were still some of the old crew left at the inn, men from Ito-san's time. Fujiwara-san was one of them. However, Nakamura had been making sure that all the new guys in their unit came from diverse circumstances and home domains. So far they had guys from Tosa, Bizen, and two from Setsu. These men had only heard of Hitokiri Battousai as a fearsome demon, not as a rebel fighting for Choshuu's freedom. So perhaps, it was understandable that they were wary of him.
And it wasn't like it was a big thing. Kenshin wasn't one to socialize; he much preferred to be left alone. However, he didn't particularly like to be treated like he was an insane murderer that one needed to be extra careful of. It reminded him too much of the early days.
Shaking his head, Kenshin focused on the matter at hand.
Katsura-san was looking at him strangely, a glimmer of concern in his gaze.
"…There are rumors." Kenshin said slowly, hiding his eyes with his long bangs. "They say hitokiri should be brought down after they run out of their usefulness." He hated to bring this matter up with Katsura-san. He knew how much Katsura-san valued him, but at the same time, he wasn't particularly liked among the Ishin Shishi, or even all that sane anymore. He just… he just needed to know.
The ki beside him stilled, becoming cold as ice.
Shocked by the reaction, Kenshin glanced up out of the corner of his eye.
Katsura-san's gaze had turned cool, his lips drawn white. "Kenshin," he said. "If there comes a day when you feel like you cannot do this anymore… come to me."
Kenshin looked aside.
So, it was true.
A fortnight later, Emperor Komei died suddenly.
The young prince Mutsuhito was only fourteen years old when he was chosen to ascend to the divine throne as Emperor Meiji.
AN: Oops, have another super long chapter. ^^*
Betaed by Animaniacal in 23.09.2016.