USEFUL GLOSSARY OF USEFULNESS
Oshogatsu : Lunar New Year, usually falls around February
Butsudan : Buddhist family altar
Tokaido : walking road connecting Tokyo to Kyoto
Kamuro girl : child assistants of oiran, between 5-11 years old
Shinzou : oiran-in-training. Yes, they took customers
Oiran: high-ranking courtesans, considered better than "common" sex workers
Shakujou: pewter staff topped with metal rings traditionally carried by Buddhist monks
Meiji 2
(February-March 1869)
In the frigid days leading up to Oshogatsu, Tomoe cloistered herself in the kitchen to prepare the traditional holiday meal.
Otetsudai-san had taken her leave to prepare for her own celebration, as was the custom, and while Kenshin had offered to help, Tomoe had shooed him away. She had never quite been able to replicate all of the customary dishes during her years on Mount Atago, and now that the whole family was together - and the Kamiyas had been invited over as well - she was determined to give them a proper Oshogatsu dinner.
As she was putting the finishing touches on the nishiki tamago - the one time of year any of them actually ate eggs, and so naturally the dish was incredibly complex and prone to spoiling if not done properly - she could hear strains of childish laughter in the courtyard, where Kenichi, Kaoru, and even Enishi took turns pounding sticky rice with a mallet under Kenshin's patient supervision.
Later they would all pat the mashed rice into balls of mochi, some of which would go into the clear soup Tomoe had prepared, some of which would be fashioned into auspicious decorations and offered up at the family butsudan, while the rest would be eaten as snacks over the next several days.
Over the three days of the celebration, they ate until their bellies were absolutely stuffed, the children flew kites and spun tops and played endless games of tag well into the evenings, and once they had passed out from exhaustion and the sake was flowing freely, the adults (and Enishi) attempted to write traditional renga poetry, where one person's verse was then joined by another's and then another's, until an entire poem had been written.
Kenshin, Enishi, and Hiko-san were generally terrible at it. Otousan made at least a passable attempt. Tomoe put in her best effort, but Kamiya-san was surprisingly good once he had drunk enough sake.
"Good poetry comes from the heart," he said cheerfully, tipping back his sake cup. "Or perhaps from the bottle. I haven't decided yet."
Enishi glanced over at Hiko-san. "Then you'd think he'd be a master at it by now."
"I am," Hiko-san shot back, leveling a glower at Enishi over his empty sake cup. "Just because you lack the ability to appreciate my genius doesn't mean it isn't there."
"Your genius hasn't really expressed itself very clearly in these poems," Otousan murmured, and Kenshin didn't even bother hiding his smile.
"Great art is never appreciated in its own time," Hiko-san countered. Kamiya-san had helpfully refilled his cup, and he didn't hesitate to empty it again. "Give it a few hundred years."
Tomoe looked at him. "So when none of us are around to see it?"
"Thank the gods," Enishi muttered.
When the bells in every Buddhist temple in Tokyo - in every Buddhist temple across all of Japan - rang 108 times in a riotous cacophony, cleansing every sin and starting the world anew, Tomoe leaned against her husband in contentment.
It had been a very satisfying Oshogatsu.
…
…
By the early days of the third month, the frost was off the ground.
The great drifts of snow that had persisted through the long and cold winter had grown smaller and grayer with each passing day, until finally there was nothing left of them but fog in the air and mud on the ground. The dripping of water from tree branches and the eaves of roofs was an ever-present background noise, and the canal behind Yukishiro's house had risen more than a shaku with the melting of Tokyo's blanket of ice and snow.
Hiko watched the signs of spring approach, earlier than they would have on the mountain and indeed earlier than he had expected even in the low altitude of Tokyo, and began to think of their journey back home. The way might be treacherous, especially as they climbed the mountain, because of the snowmelt and the swollen rivers. And he recalled the warnings they had all given Enishi about the dangers of mudslides at the end of the boy's first winter on Mount Atago.
Kenichi, heedless of his own mortality, would need to be watched especially closely.
An expression somewhere between a smile and a frown crossed Hiko's face as he imagined his grandson's eager explorations. He'd have to stay within easy reach of the boy, never more than an arm's length away, just in case he needed to seize him by the back of his collar to stop him from sliding down the mountain...
Over breakfast one morning, Tomoe laid down her spoon and looked meaningfully around the hearth.
"Kenshin and I have been talking." Her eyes met her father's. "It's going to be time for us to make the journey back to Mount Atago soon."
Yukishiro nodded. "I was wondering if you would decide to do so come spring."
"It's time." A small smile flickered across Tomoe's mouth. "My husband misses his garden, after all."
"This much is true." Kenshin's gaze met Hiko's for a moment, before he refocused on his father-in-law. "We thought within the next week or so, as long as the weather holds."
Enishi's eyes widened at that.
It suddenly struck Hiko that Yukishiro did not seem to be putting on his customary act of inscrutability; he seemed legitimately unsurprised at the announcement. In fact, the only one who did seem somewhat taken aback was his second apprentice.
Kenichi looked up from his porridge, spoon clutched in his tiny hand. "Ojiisan come too?"
Yukishiro shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Kenichi-kun. This is my home, and this is where I must stay."
"But how would you feel about coming back to visit Ojiisan next winter?" Tomoe asked her son. Lifting her eyes to her father, she added, "If Ojiisan agrees, that is."
The same small smile crossed Yukishiro's face. "Why should I not agree to such a thing?"
Enishi's gaze dropped into his lap, fingers clenching at the fabric of his hakama.
"We'd thought about the idea of spending every winter here, actually," Tomoe said.
Hiko's head snapped up. This was something he hadn't expected. And judging from Enishi's sudden paralysis, it was news to him as well.
"It would be quite a bit easier on us than wintering on the mountain, after all," Tomoe continued, "and I think it would give everyone something to look forward to other than months of cold and dreary weather."
"I should like that." Yukishiro set his spoon down, his gaze flickering over each member of the household in turn. "I should like that very much, though I believe the news is quite a surprise to Hiko-kun."
"Surprise, Jiji!" Kenichi said, and would have thrown his hands in the air, spoonful of porridge and all, had his father not reached out and gently lowered the boy's little fist.
"A surprise, yes," Hiko said slowly. And then, in a further surprise even to himself, he smiled. "But perhaps not necessarily a bad one. I've little patience for the city - for any city - but the company here hasn't been at all disagreeable."
Enishi said nothing, not even to make what he likely would have imagined to be a very cutting retort.
"Though I don't seem to be the only one surprised by this news," he said, his gaze falling on Enishi and not swerving from him.
Enishi looked up at him and scowled. "It's just sudden, is all. No one discussed it with me."
Kenichi shook his head. "No one discussed Nishi-jichan."
Kenshin smiled and ran his fingers through the boy's hair, and Kenichi closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.
"No one discussed it with me either," Hiko groused. "I suppose it's taken for granted that we'll simply follow along with everyone else's decisions." He snorted. "That's a man's fate when he lives with a woman."
Kenshin hummed and ate a spoonful of porridge, but very wisely kept his fool mouth shut.
…
…
The next few days were spent in a flurry of activity.
Tomoe made several trips to the fabric market (which meant Kenshin made said trips too, though he never complained), stocking up on everything she thought she might need for the next year. The quality and availability of fabric was far greater than what could be found in the small village at the bottom of Mount Atago, and everyone (even Hiko-san, whether he acknowledged it or not) could use a freshening up of some of their clothing.
She also had a new pair of straw zori woven for her. Though she had much affection for the pair Kenshin had fashioned for her (years ago by that point, though she could hardly believe it), it was high time she had a pair made exactly to her size.
"And we should visit Yumi-dono as well," Kenshin said. "I'll need to lose at least one last hanafuda card game to her before next winter."
"At least one," Tomoe said with a hint of a smile. She had grown to like the woman over the past months, and it was clear that Yumi felt the same way about her. It would be pleasant to have one last visit with her before they left. "I wonder if she'll have time to answer if I write her letters?"
"Perhaps?" Kenshin frowned. "I wonder how often mail is collected from the village?"
"Oh." Tomoe's face fell, then settled into a small frown. "I'd forgotten how many things I take for granted here in the city."
It was true. During the war, she'd become used to the notion of letters taking time to deliver. But now, when she would want to send letters back and forth to her father by means of an ordinary letter carrier rather than a chain of Kenshin's compatriots, and to the first friend she'd had in years as well, she found herself surprised and disappointed by the thought of such delays.
"Such is life atop a secluded mountain," Kenshin murmured around the carefully wrapped bundle of fabric in his arms. "I hope you won't be too disappointed to return to it."
"Disappointed?" Tomoe's frown melted away. "Only by how long it might take for letters to travel. I enjoy living up on the mountain." She smiled. "It's where our son was born. It's where you lived since your seventh summer. It's where your garden is, and the house you and Hiko-san and Enishi built for us to share." She shifted closer to Kenshin as they walked. "It's where I made my home with you and our family."
"I'm glad to hear that." Kenshin glanced over at her, hesitated a moment, then, "Because I think a certain member of the household might be beside himself if we refused to return to Atago, though he'd never admit to such a thing."
(Elsewhere in Tokyo, Tomoe imagined said certain member of the household sneezing into his sake…)
"For all his insistence on people saying what they mean," Tomoe murmured with a smile, "he certainly goes to great lengths to avoid saying how much our company means to him."
But then again, Kenshin and Hiko were both fairly equally inept about acknowledging anything about their relationship at all, and so Tomoe couldn't expect much more of an answer on Kenshin's end. She wondered idly whether either one of them would ever even admit to himself that their relationship had long since transcended that of a master and his apprentice. And, if so, who would arrive there first.
"Aren't you pleased with the idea of going back to Mount Atago?" she finally asked.
A small smile flitted across Kenshin's mouth. "As we both said, I do miss my garden. I think I'd like to try my hand at growing eggplants."
"You really are a farmer at heart, aren't you?" Tomoe asked, the gentle smile never wavering. "You're as happy working in the garden as you are playing with our son. And it makes me happy to see how fulfilled you are."
How fulfilled they all were.
…
…
Over the next handful of days, Enishi's training was less than productive.
"Where is your head, boy?" Hiko finally asked after his apprentice had failed to evade a strike that even the greenest novice could have seen coming. He leaned on his bokutou and glared down at Enishi. "You're supposed to be improving with training, not getting worse."
"I'm fine," Enishi snapped, though he was, in fact, very far from fine, covered in mud and soaking wet as he was. "Just having an off day."
"An off day?" Hiko snorted. "An off week is more like it. Any observer would think you hadn't had the benefit of nearly three years of training with me."
He paused, peering down critically at the boy, and decided to press the issue. Enishi had always given his best responses under pressure, and Hiko knew how to apply it.
"I think we're done for the day." Hiko shook his head in disgust. "I'm beginning to feel bad about kicking you into the mud, and that can't be a good sign."
"Whatever." Enishi stood and tossed his bokutou aside. "Fine by me." He turned toward the direction of the bath. "I'm going to light the fire for the bath then."
Hiko scowled darkly as he watched Enishi storm away, but his expression masked a deeper worry. He had expected his second apprentice to rise to the bait, to insist upon continuing to train, and to finally break under the strain and allow what was truly bothering him to pour out in the end. The fact that Enishi had simply walked away spoke of a more serious problem than Hiko had considered.
Very well.
If that was the way the boy wanted to play this little game, Hiko would oblige him.
The next few days saw a near endless downpour that washed away the last vestiges of winter, but turned the courtyard into a slurry of mud.
Enishi glanced over at Kenshin, expression sly. "Guess the weather didn't hold."
They had cracked open one of the storm shutters wide enough to allow them to watch the rain and feel the breeze while they ate a simple lunch of grilled fish and stirfried vegetables.
Kenshin looked at him over his rice bowl. "Give it a few days."
Lightning cracked across a rapidly darkening sky. Kenichi yelped, chopsticks clattering to the floor, and clung tightly to his mother.
"Perhaps several days," Yukishiro said mildly.
Enishi looked almost delighted.
"I'd rather hold out for safe traveling conditions than risk getting caught on the mountainside in a storm like this," Hiko said, glancing over at Enishi. "Though I do remember you thinking that a mudslide might be fun to ride down, in your first spring on the mountain."
Enishi scowled and said nothing.
"I wouldn't even want to risk the Tokaido in a storm like this." Kenshin set his bowl down and looked over at his wife. "We've walked in weather like this. It… wasn't our best walk."
"That was a necessary walk," she murmured. "Even if it wasn't exactly pleasant." The hint of a smile passed across her face. "Still, the rain was the least of our worries then."
Hiko fought down his gag reflex at the mooning, lovesick look that the two of them lavished upon each other.
A small smile pulled at the corners of Yukishiro's mouth, though he directed it into his rice bowl.
Predictably, the rains stopped after a few days, though a heavy greyness continued to hang over the sky. Kenshin and Tomoe used the opportunity to pay a final visit to their friend in Yoshiwara, taking Kenichi with them.
"What are they so certain about?" Enishi groused, watching as the front gate slid closed behind them. "The rain hasn't promised to stop or anything."
"The rain's blown itself out," Hiko grunted in response. "The next couple of days may be damp and misty, but we won't see a storm like that again for weeks." He arched an eyebrow at the boy. "You ought to have learned that much after living up on Atago for as long as you have."
"Some of us grew up in cities," Enishi snapped. "We can't all be perfect Ishin Shishi farmers or reclusive mountain men."
"Clearly not," Hiko retorted, noting the sharp edge in his second apprentice's voice and returning it readily. "Regardless of how hard I've worked to improve upon your city background."
"You know…" Enishi gritted his teeth, sucked in his breath, and then spat the words out. "I don't notice you giving Kenshin any of your charm, and he hasn't done anything since we got here." He gestured expansively. "Except bring the new government to our door and let the whole neighborhood know that we're hosting an infamous hitokiri in our home, but yeah, my city background's the real issue here."
Hiko's eyes narrowed. "I seem to recall you wanting to bludgeon the men from the government with your bokutou on Kenshin's behalf, so you'll want to refrain from belittling him."
Enishi returned the glare. "Why? You belittle him all the time. Figured we should all take a turn here and there."
"I've earned it," Hiko spat. "I trained him, I raised him, and I've put up with his nonsense for twelve years. You, on the other hand, have done none of those things."
"Whatever." Enishi turned away. "I don't care. It doesn't matter."
How very like a young boy on the edge of semi-adulthood to become suddenly dismissive about something which very clearly did matter to him. His idiot apprentice had sung the same tune in the year or so before their final argument, and Hiko had never forgotten the monumental stupidity of it. Saying he didn't care about something so obviously crucial. Really, now…
Hiko snorted.
Enishi whirled on him in an instant. "I've told you not to mock me," he seethed through gritted teeth. "Go chase down your perfect, dedicated, better apprentice and mock him, since you've earned it and all."
"And you think I haven't earned being able to talk some sense into you?" Hiko arched an eyebrow. "After not only taking you in when you were starving and ragged, but teaching you for three years against the most fundamental injunctions of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu?" He shook his head sourly. "Your gratitude is bottomless."
Enishi's eyes widened at that, and he actually took a step back before turning away.
"I don't have any gratitude," he said raggedly. "For anything or anyone. I never have." He dug his fingers into his hair suddenly. "I know that. I've always known that."
…
…
As always, Yoshiwara was a flurry of activity in midday, though of the sort that served the locals of the area, and not the patrons who would visit later in the evening.
Kamuro girls bustled to and fro, running errands for the oiran they served. Vendors made deliveries, shopkeepers displayed elegant kimono and other sundries, and hawkers called out to passersby from their various food stalls.
Also, Tomoe couldn't help but notice that the locals seemed a good deal more friendlier that day. Some of them waved or called out cheerful greetings as she and Kenshin and Kenichi passed by. A few even bowed.
"This hasn't happened any of the other times we've visited," she murmured to Kenshin. "Is there something special about today?"
"Kenichi is here!" The boy grinned up at them. "So today very special."
Kenshin glanced at his son and smiled. "There's our explanation."
"Indeed," Tomoe replied with a tiny smile of her own. Still, she resolved to ask Yumi-san about it when they arrived.
The kamuro girl who answered the door of the Hanakotoba was not one of Yumi-san's, but she beamed at them both the moment she recognized them.
"Hello, Oneesan. Himura-oniisan. We've all been wondering when you would come by again."
"You have?" Kenshin started, only for Kenichi to jump in with:
"Kenichi eat so many sweets today?"
"Of course. Lots and lots of sweets." The girl stepped aside, ushering them inside. "Always for Kenichi-kun."
Tomoe looked questioningly at her husband. She did not recall ever having met this girl, and yet she seemed to know them on sight. Or, at least, to know him on sight. Not that she suspected Kenshin of anything untoward, of course, but she hadn't expected such a warm welcome from everyone in the district when no such thing had occurred beforehand.
"Have I missed something?" she whispered as they entered.
As if on cue, a flurry of girls surrounded them, cooing at Kenichi and petting his hair, before leading him away with promises of more sweets than he could count. A middle aged, yet fine-featured woman was left in their wake, her hair swept up in an elaborate, waxed coif and her black kimono simple, yet elegantly expensive.
Tomoe immediately marked her as the Hanakotoba's Okaasan.
"Himura Battousai-san," the woman said, bowing. "And his most welcome wife. I'm glad I'm finally getting the opportunity to meet the both of you." She straightened and eyed them both. "My oiran name was once Hanahomura, but I own the Hanakotoba now. All of my girls have spoken very highly of the both of you."
She gestured to two girls, who were quietly setting up trays of tea and snacks in one corner of the room.
"Won't you join me before you pay your visit to Hanahomura? Though I understand she allows you to call her by her given name."
Startled by this flood of revelations, Tomoe responded only after a moment. She glanced over at Kenshin once again, then hurriedly offered a gracious bow to the older woman.
"Of course," she said. Then, cautiously, not wanting to offend but still curious, she asked, "Why does everyone speak so highly of us? We've been welcomed here most kindly and hospitably before, but something feels different today."
A smile - almost a smirk - tugged at the corners of Okaasan's mouth as they all settled in front of the tea trays. Kenshin set his sword down next to him, and the woman's eyes fell on that for a moment before she spoke.
"Word does get around very quickly in Yoshiwara." She twitched her sleeve aside and poured a cup of tea each for Kenshin and Tomoe before pouring one for herself. "And word that the infamous Hitokiri Battousai patronizes our establishment is a word I'm very interested in, indeed."
Kenshin's eyes widened slightly at that. "I wouldn't…" He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't say 'patronizes.'"
Okaasan definitely smirked at that. "No, your intentions have been rather pure, haven't they? And yet…" She blew steam off her tea. "The value of my girls has increased exponentially, therefore making all of our futures more secure."
Tomoe laid a hand on her husband's arm, giving it a light squeeze as if to remind him that she loved him without having to speak the words, before giving Okaasan a quizzical look.
"Just the fact that my husband comes here, even if he doesn't spend money, makes this a more profitable establishment?" She gave the woman a small, somewhat mischievous smile. "Every day, I learn more about him."
"They don't know his spending habits, do they?" Okaasan shrugged lightly, as if to suggest such a thing didn't matter at all. "But they do know he brings his wife to the Hanakotoba, meaning he has some very interesting habits, indeed."
Kenshin coughed into his tea and might have simply choked to death from embarrassment or shock had Tomoe not put a soothing hand on his back.
For a moment, Tomoe thought wryly that this would be one more reason for Musashino's waterwheel to churn. But she quickly realized that such rumors, whether about her or her husband, would only make it back to Musashino if the men who frequented this district mentioned it to their wives.
It was just as well, she thought with a smile. Even if she could have explained it to her father easily, it would not have been a conversation she relished.
"My husband's habits are certainly interesting," she said, watching as Kenshin turned a shade redder.
"My habits are just fine," he rasped, setting his tea down and wiping his sleeve across his mouth. "Completely unnoteworthy."
Okaasan looked at him for a long moment. "Including your habit of defending women of other houses from the abuses of terrible men?"
Kenshin's gaze sharpened at that.
"Ito Riichi was known for his violent predilections. Not at the Hanakotoba; he could have never afforded any of my girls." Another easy shrug. "But he's a monster and a thug, and yet he's been too embarrassed to show his face around Yoshiwara for months now."
Tomoe felt her heart swell with warmth at the thought of her husband's good deed and its results, and she moved her hand with gentle pressure up and down his back.
"My husband is a good man," she said simply. "Whatever else people have said or thought about him."
"Well, the people of Yoshiwara think very highly of him, myself included." Okaasan's gaze flickered between Kenshin and Tomoe in turn. "And so, Himura Battousai-san, even though you haven't spent a single mon here, know that you're always welcome at the Hanakotoba."
Kenshin was silent for a moment. "Thank you," he finally said, bowing his head. There was real gratitude in his voice. "I really do appreciate that."
A smile flickered across Okaasan's mouth. "Indeed."
…
…
As Hiko looked down at the boy, hands fisted in his hair in the same way they were sometimes fisted in the fabric of his hakama, he thought he began to understand.
Enishi's relationship with his father had been uneasy; he'd understood that from the beginning. He'd come to comprehend the complexity of it much more deeply after Enishi had shown him the butsudan with its silent and horrible row of black lacquered memorial tablets. But he had not given much thought to it once Enishi had begun spending more time with the old man. He had imagined that things had been settled, and turned his focus to other matters.
But clearly he had not paid close enough attention.
"And how long have you known that?" he asked, his tone losing a great deal of its sharpness but retaining its gruff directness. "Who else has told you that, or should I guess?"
"Nobody needs to tell me that." Enishi kept his back to him. "I'm not an idiot. I know that I'm just making things harder for everyone. I know that I don't appreciate anything. I know…"
The energy seemed to drain from him suddenly. He sank to the ground, knees falling into mud, hands still clenched in his hair.
"I'm making things harder," he said quietly. "I make everything harder."
"Tell that to your sister," Hiko replied flatly. "You led me to the forest when the Yaminobu took her. I wouldn't have found her otherwise. Or tell that to your father, when he was so obviously relieved to see you again after the war."
He crouched down beside the boy and peered into his stricken face. "Or better yet, before you talk to any of them, talk to me and tell me what's really on your mind. You've been on a knife's edge for days now. Don't think I haven't noticed."
"Don't-" Enishi squeezed his eyes shut. Shook his head. "Don't try to be understanding. You don't…" His breath hitched. "You won't get it. You can't."
"Try me," Hiko replied simply, with a touch of impatience.
Enishi took another shuddering breath. "I… I've wasted three years of your time." He sounded seconds away from being sick. "I didn't mean… I'm sorry about…" He shook his head, fingers still clenched in his hair. "I didn't mean to…"
"What in blazes are you talking about?" Hiko growled. "How exactly have you wasted my time? I've taught you the foundations of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, and I'd like to imagine I've taught you more besides. So what exactly are you sorry for?"
For a long moment, Enishi said nothing. He took another shaking breath, then another more carefully controlled one. His fingers loosened from his hair, hands dropping nervelessly into his lap.
"I can't…" Another breath. "I can't go back to Mount Atago with everyone." He kept his gaze in his lap. "I'm sorry, but I can't."
For a long moment, Hiko remained silent. The echoes of what his second apprentice had said reverberated through his mind, stirring a thousand other thoughts to life as they connected themselves to Enishi's words.
He ought to have expected this, he realized dully. He'd even pointed out himself how much progress Enishi and his father had made with their relationship. It only made sense for the boy to stay here in Tokyo in order to continue nurturing it. A son's place was with his father, after all, and for as much as Hiko had forged a bond with Enishi through Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, he was not the boy's father, and Enishi was not his son.
An odd sensation of relief struck him as he reminded himself that Kenshin had already agreed to renew his training when they returned to the mountain. Why that thought should occur to him at this moment he had no idea, but he found it reassuring nonetheless.
"Every man has to choose his own path in life," Hiko said after a while. He got to his feet and gestured for Enishi to follow suit. "Come on. Get up out of that mud and come with me, and you can tell me exactly why you can't come back to Mount Atago with the rest of us."
…
…
The first thing Tomoe couldn't help but notice, once they had been admitted into Yumi-san's room and the greetings had been exchanged, was that Yumi-san was dressed in what appeared to be an eye-wateringly expensive kimono.
It was a beautiful deep blue, patterned with delicate white irises and pink lilies floating in shining streaks of rippling water. Her obi was a heavy brocade of gold cloth, swirled with complex designs and tied in a bow so complicated, it might have taken both of her kamuro girls to manage it.
"Do you like it?" Yumi-san giggled and turned so Tomoe could admire the full effect. "I just received it yesterday."
The second thing Tomoe noticed was the new vanity in one corner of the room. It was made of dark, shining wood in what must have been a Western style, high up enough off the floor that a small stool was placed in front of it.
Yumi-san followed Tomoe's gaze. "That was a gift as well. It's imported directly from, oh…" She tapped a finger lightly against her mouth. "How do they say it? Doitsu? Deutschland? Well, it's from there."
"It's from Europe?" Kenshin said, glancing at the vanity and then at Yumi-san.
"Himura-san, you are darling, as always." Yumi-san smiled brightly at him. "There are several countries in Europe, and Deutschland is one of them."
"All the way from Europe," Tomoe murmured. She could just imagine how the glossy wood might feel under her fingertips - as smooth as a thousand layers of lacquer - but she knew perfectly well that something that beautiful, from that far away, was far too expensive for her to sully with finger marks. "And you said it was a gift?"
"Oh, go sit at it." Yumi-san gestured Tomoe toward the vanity, as Kenshin eased his sword from his belt and seated himself on one of the cushions. "I can tell you want to."
Tomoe smiled at her, then hesitantly reached out and touched the shining surface of the foreign-looking furniture. She had imagined it correctly, and she hurriedly buffed the spot where her fingers had touched the dark and polished wood using the sleeve of her kimono.
"Who gave you a gift this rich?" she asked in wonder. "I can't even imagine how much it must have cost to make, let alone to bring all the way here."
"I've accepted a new patron as of yesterday." Yumi-san seated herself next to Kenshin and began to pour the tea in what seemed like one fluid motion. "It took some convincing. I made him entertain a visit four times instead of the usual three, but Murasaki-sama is a very successful fabrics merchant, and now he's branching out into the import and export business as well."
"A new patron…?" Kenshin murmured, as Yumi slid the teacup toward him.
"He certainly seems successful," Tomoe ventured, looking at the gorgeous kimono with fresh perspective. "If he can afford to lavish gifts like these on you." Her brow suddenly furrowed. "Is he pleasant to be around? You said it took four visits…"
She trailed off, somewhat concerned for her friend. She knew that Yumi-san would never have suffered a man like the ones Kenshin had fought, but men could be unpleasant in other ways. Ways that wealth could not soften.
"Well, I don't usually agree to see merchants, but..." Yumi-san shrugged lightly. "In our new government, merchants might end up being the ones with the real influence and power." She looked at Kenshin coyly. "After all, rumor has it that the daimyo will eventually be stripped of all their power."
Kenshin blew the steam off his tea. "Good."
"As for how pleasant he is?" Another shrug. "Well, he's pleasant enough, and he certainly wants to be the sort of man who can afford to patronize the Hanakotoba." A sly smile flitted across her mouth. "In fact, he's having a new futon delivered today. I've requested that the blanket match this kimono."
Tomoe blushed slightly at the ramifications of such a delivery. She supposed she shouldn't have; she knew that Yumi-san was an oiran, after all. But the thought of this unknown merchant buying a special futon for what she knew would be his and Yumi-san's private use reminded her of the time Yumi-san had allowed her and Kenshin to use her own futon.
She hoped that this man would be good to Yumi-san. Especially since…
"We're going to be returning to Mount Atago soon," she said suddenly. "But we'll be returning before winter. May we write to one another?"
"Oh." Yumi-san's face genuinely fell at that, but she quickly schooled her expression back to something more cheerful. "Yes, of course we should write to one another. I would like that very much."
"We thought we would come back every winter," Kenshin explained, "and stay for several months at a time. So it's only a temporary goodbye."
"You're very sweet, Himura-san," Yumi-san said softly. "You and Tomoe-san are lucky to have each other."
"I certainly feel lucky to have him," Tomoe agreed, before turning back to Yumi-san with a smile tinged with sadness. "And I do hope your new patron turns out to be lucky for you."
"It was time." Yumi-san tapped her fingers against her teacup. "My contract ends in two years, but I'm still in so much debt to the Hanakotoba and there are Kanomo-chan and Konomo-chan's expenses and futures to consider…"
Kenshin frowned, but said nothing.
"I don't see paying off my debts in the next five years, let alone two. And…" Yumi-san shook her head. "We have to move on. At some point, we have to move on."
Kenshin's frown deepened. "You miss him," he said quietly.
Yumi-san's gaze fell into her teacup. "I do."
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Yumi-san." Tomoe reached out a hand and gently laid it on the other woman's arm. "I know what it is to lose a love."
The three of them sat with that for a moment, then abruptly Yumi-san looked up, bright smile on her face.
"Shall we play hanafuda cards now? I'd like to see Himura-san lose a few rounds before my procession today."
"Procession?" Tomoe asked, her brow furrowed. Then her eyes went wide. "Are you having a procession today?"
She had never seen one of the elaborate parades in which oiran dressed in their finery and, accompanied by their entire retinues, proceeded through the streets to show themselves to the district. Such things had, of course, never been considered proper for the daughter of a samurai. But now that she could count the most popular oiran in Yoshiwara as her friend…
She wondered if she looked as hopeful as she felt.
Yumi-san giggled. "I am. I've agreed to let Murasaki-sama entertain my entire retinue this afternoon at the Ichiya Teahouse." She sipped at her tea. "Well, my shinzou will do some of the entertaining. They certainly need the practice."
Tomoe looked over at Kenshin, then back at Yumi-san, then at Kenshin once more. She didn't want to ask for the privilege of watching the procession, perhaps from a special vantage point, but how many chances would she ever get?
"My wife would love to watch the procession," Kenshin said over his teacup.
She loved him.
Yumi-san looked delighted.
…
...
Hiko made Enishi sit on the engawa after opening the shutters, not wanting the boy to enter the house with his hakama splattered with mud, and disappeared into the house. He returned in a few moments carrying his sake jug and two saucers. The boy was near enough to manhood, Hiko reasoned, and conversations of this weight were always made easier when properly lubricated with decent sake.
"Here." He poured a splash of sake into a saucer and gruffly held it out to the boy. Pouring one for himself, he sat down beside Enishi on the engawa and looked at him expectantly.
Enishi looked at the sake, then looked up at Hiko. "Is this because my father isn't home?" All the same, he accepted the saucer, though he didn't drink from it.
"Partially," Hiko scowled. "I suppose this is a conversation you ought to have with him, but I guess I'll have to suffice for the time being."
Instead of taking an experimental sip, Enishi knocked the whole saucer back. He promptly gagged, eyes watering, and set the saucer aside.
"It tastes terrible, you know. And it has nothing to do with my character or whatever." He dragged his sleeve across his mouth. "Your sense of taste is probably shot at this point, so you don't even realize it."
"Sake is an acquired taste," Hiko shot back with a glower, tipping back his own saucer and appreciating the flavor. "One that's well worth acquiring, for your information."
Enishi scowled. "Or I could just drink things that taste good right away."
"Youth is wasted on the young," Hiko muttered, refilling both saucers. "Listen to me, boy. There are some things that are well worth the effort to cultivate. Even if something isn't immediately satisfying, that's no reason to abandon it outright." He snorted. "You ought to know."
Enishi sighed.
"Well, then." Hiko gestured at Enishi's refilled sake saucer. "Drink that, and then you can tell me about how you came to your decision."
This time, Enishi took a tentative sip, then immediately pulled an exaggerated face. "Still terrible." He set the saucer aside. Sighed again and picked at an invisible loose thread hidden in his muddy hakama.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was very quiet. "I'm my father's only living son. I'm not… I'm not a very good son, but I'm it. I'm all he has left." His eyes stayed focused on his hakama. "Neechan has to go back to Atago. She could get Kenshin to stay here if she really wanted to, but I don't think she would force him to make that choice. A wife is supposed to follow her husband to his family home."
He worried harder at the thread, keeping his eyes trained on his work. "But if I go too, then Otousan has no one. The Kamiyas, I guess, but that's… that's not the same thing. He'll have no one but my dead siblings on the butsudan."
Hiko thought of Yukishiro and how he must have lived during the years of the war. How he must have stood before that shelf every single day, staring at the reminders of the family he had watched die. How he had clearly never missed a day, never allowed the shelf to become untidy or unkempt, and how it might have entirely consumed his mind if his children had not come walking unexpectedly back.
In the company of a wild mountain man and the most notorious hitokiri in history.
"I'd thought as much," Hiko said after a long pause, lifting his sake saucer to his mouth again. "I just wanted to hear it from you." He turned to regard Enishi, then said somewhat more forcefully, "And if you were a bad son, it wouldn't have even occurred to you to stay. So you can get that thought out of your foolish head."
A beat passed between them.
"I really did enjoy training with you," Enishi said quietly. "I didn't mean to waste your time."
Hiko sighed heavily as he came to the full realization that this would have to mean the end of Enishi's apprenticeship. And while it did relieve him of the additional burden of having to decide how the boy would ever attain mastery of the style, the truth was that he had enjoyed teaching Enishi.
But the point of teaching him in the first place had been to channel his intensity. In that, Hiko had succeeded. And perhaps there was a way that Enishi's prodigious natural talent could still find an outlet.
"Then don't let it have been a waste." Hiko faced the boy full-on. "Use what you've learned, and continue to learn as best you can."
It seemed as though his last act as the boy's shishou would be, ironically, to find him a new shishou. He only hoped Kamiya was up to the task…
…
…
As always, Kenshin and Tomoe lost nearly every round of hanafuda cards to Yumi-san, who was rather gracious about her wins in that she asked them very entertaining questions.
(One or two of which made Kenshin turn the same shade as his hair…)
Tomoe was on the verge of asking Yumi-san if she might like to play a game of shogi (surely she would stand a better chance of winning there), when a voice outside of the room called out "Oneechan!" before sliding the shoji open.
Kanomo stood in the threshold, holding what appeared to be a wig draped in a cloth in both hands. "Oneechan, you wouldn't believe how long old Abe-san took to prepare this. He wouldn't stop talking about his gout and-"
She caught sight of Tomoe and Kenshin and beamed a very sunny grin at them. "Hello, Himura-oniisan. Tomoe-san. Hanahomura-dono is having a procession today, and it still took old Abe-san one hundred hours to correctly style her favorite wig."
With a quick twitch of her hand, she removed the cloth, revealing a very elaborate, freshly waxed wig. Tomoe could imagine how much more stunning it would be once the ornamentation was added to it.
Tomoe gave the young girl a smile in return, along with a polite nod of the head. "It looks beautiful nonetheless. But where is Konomo-chan? It's so strange to see one of you without the other."
"Konomo-chan is here!" a bright voice announced, appearing beside her counterpart. Several stunning kimono that had likely been freshly laundered were draped in her arms, the silky fabrics trailing against the tatami mats.
Yumi-san collected the hanafuda cards, smoothly rose to her feet, and tucked the cards in one of the drawers of her new vanity.
"Tomoe-san, would you like to watch me get ready?"
"Oh yes, please." Tomoe's smile broadened. "I can even help you if you like." She hesitated. "If you trust me with clothing that expensive."
Kanomo and Konomo exchanged a glance and giggled.
"Konomo-chan is seven!"
"Kanomo-chan is eight!"
Yumi-san smiled. "And I trust them, don't I?"
Tomoe's smile turned wry. "Then if I make a mistake, you'll know I'm less trustworthy than an seven-year-old."
"This is my cue." Kenshin stood and slid his sword into his belt. "I'll go see if Kenichi's turned into a sweets-stuffed balloon yet."
Before he could leave the room, Yumi-san stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her body against his, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"I do hope the months pass quickly, Himura-san," she murmured, before pulling away and cupping a hand against his scarred cheek. A moment's hesitation, and then she just brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth.
Kenshin murmured something Tomoe didn't quite catch, bowed, and left the room.
Something tugged at Tomoe's heart just then. She had never been the jealous type, had never felt threatened by the thought of Kenshin being close to another woman, quite simply because she knew that Kenshin would never have even dreamt of being unfaithful to her. And what she was feeling now was certainly not jealousy.
Yumi-san looked at Tomoe for a moment, then pulled the pins from her coif, hair spilling down the length of her back.
"Come comb my hair, Tomoe-san." She seated herself at the vanity. "I could use a woman's gentle touch."
As Tomoe began deftly running the comb through Yumi-san's hair, careful not to pull too hard at any tangles, she noticed a sort of tension in the other woman's neck and shoulders. There was a hint of stiffness, too, in her expression, and Tomoe could not help but try to soothe it away. She combed Yumi-san's hair slowly and delicately, as she might have done for a sister.
"What's worrying you, Yumi-san?" she murmured.
Yumi-san studied Tomoe's reflection in the mirror for a moment. "I would have loved to have him, Tomoe-san, but he has eyes only for you." She folded her hands in her lap. "And as I respect you and value your friendship so highly, you have my word that I would never dream of trying anything regardless."
Tomoe felt that tugging at her heart again, more strongly this time, and realized what it was. She had seen how Yumi-san looked at Kenshin, known on some level how she felt about him, and felt genuine sorrow for her. Everyone deserved love, but Yumi-san had lost hers to war. Now she had feelings for the husband of her friend, and was in the midst of a professional relationship with a man she very likely had no true feelings for.
Tomoe set down the comb gently, leaned forward, and put her arms lightly around Yumi-san's shoulders from behind.
"I don't need your word," she murmured. "I would have trusted you without it."
Yumi-san sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against Tomoe's.
A few hours later, Tomoe stood with Kenshin and Kenichi on the crowded streets of Yoshiwara. By common consent, the middle of the street had been cleared, and the crowds had clustered together against the fronts of the buildings on either side. Vendors had gathered and set up their stalls, some selling sweets, others small ukiyo-e prints of famous oiran, still others small paper umbrellas. Tomoe held Kenichi's tiny hand firmly in her own, knowing how easily he might become separated from her in the excitement.
Kenshin held Kenichi's other hand as well, and he and Tomoe exchanged anticipatory glances.
The procession began with a single man who held something resembling Jiyu-san's shakujou, though it was clearly meant for show and not for travel. He took very slow, deliberate, and short steps, and on every third step, he gave the ceremonial staff a single shake so that its metal rings jangled loudly. This served to set the pace for the people who followed behind him.
First came a man in identical garb, but holding aloft on a long stick a large lantern emblazoned with the characters of Yumi-san's oiran name, Hanahomura. Kanomo and Konomo followed, clad in identical bright-red kimono, their faces painted simply but brightly and their hair combed loose and straight about their shoulders. One of them carried what appeared to be an elaborately decorated, oversized envelope, and the other bore aloft a lacquered wooden box which might have been a tabako-bon.
Behind them followed Yumi-san, and Tomoe caught her breath at the spectacular sight of her.
She towered above the heads of all others in the procession, balanced precariously upon wooden shoes so unnaturally tall that she had to rest a hand on the shoulder of the man who walked beside her simply to avoid toppling over. She walked with strange, exaggerated crescent-moon steps, but so fluidly she appeared to be dancing slowly and elegantly down the street. She wore the eye-catching and unthinkably beautiful many-layered kimono that Tomoe had seen Konomo carrying in to her earlier, and the now heavily-ornamented wig which Kanomo had brought her sat upon her head like a crown.
Behind her walked a man who carried a huge red umbrella bearing the crest of the Hanakotoba, the shadow falling perfectly over her to shade her from even the slightest ray of sunlight. Her face carried the barest hint of a coy smile, and her gaze seemed to float over the entire assembled crowd without landing on anyone.
Tomoe had never seen anyone more ethereally beautiful.
In Yumi-san's wake followed a host of shinzou girls, though none as elaborately or exquisitely attired as Yumi-san herself. They seemed much more attentive to the crowd, their faces far less impassive and their eyes often lingering for a moment or longer on certain members of the audience. But the real magic of the procession was centered on Yumi-san, and it seemed as though these other women struggled to remain within its aura - they could generate none of their own.
When the last of the shinzou had passed by and the noise of the procession had faded, Tomoe let out a breath she did not know she had been holding and turned to Kenshin.
"That was…" She trailed off, not knowing how to do justice to the spectacle with mere words.
Kenichi shook his hand out of Tomoe's grasp and gestured toward the shinzou at the back of the procession. "Kenichi know Kiku-san and Sayuri-san, but they not give Kenichi sweets!"
Kenshin smiled down at their son. "Weren't they giving you sweets all afternoon?"
"But…" Kenichi stuck his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. "They not give Kenichi sweets now!"
Tomoe gave her son's hand a small squeeze, the image of Yumi-san still prominent in her mind, and smiled a bit breathlessly. "Perhaps we should head home and see if Otetsudai-san has any sweets for you, then."
She could not have imagined a more fitting last sight of Yumi-san, before taking leave of her for a year's time.
NOTE THE FIRST
Holy fuck, fam! Chapter 30 of this sprawling monstrosity! I really wanted to name the chapter 'HOLY FUCK I MADE IT TO CHAPTER 30!' but I didn't, because I have TACT and SUBTLETY. But anyway, here's to chapter 30 and the fact that there's still a lot more of this story to go, so if you're enjoying it, buckle up. I'm not going anywhere yet.
And yes, Shishio's still DEAD. Don't me on that. Why do y'all want him to be not dead so badly? Hasn't he suffered enough? Hasn't Yumi suffered enough? What good would him not being dead do, I ask you?
NOTE THE SECOND
In 1869, Oshogatsu (Lunar New Year) fell around 11 February. I'm a giant nerd. You're welcome.
Anyway, by 1873, the government declared that Lunar New Year was no longer a thing and that Japan would be celebrating the western world's New Year on December 31/January 1. Which is now referred to as Oshogatsu. Which is why Lunar New Year is no longer really a thing in Japan, even though it's still a thing in pretty much the entire rest of Asia. (Also referred to as Chinese New Year, even though, again, the entire rest of Asia celebrates it.) Thanks, the Emperor.
NOTE THE THIRD
HOW ABOUT THAT OIRAN CULTURE?
'Hanahomura', which is Yumi's oiran name, would have been a lineage name. The most popular oiran of that house who preceded her would have had that name, and when she retired, she would have chosen her successor. In this case, the Hanakotoba's Okaasan was once Hanahomura. Eventually, when Yumi retires, she's meant to choose her successor as well.
The problem is, Yumi can't afford to retire. Oiran racked up ENORMOUS debt to their brothels (those expensive kimono and wigs and makeup and their upkeep cost a lot of money) and they were also personally responsible for the cost of raising and caring for their kamuro girls. So even when Yumi's contract ran out, if her debt hadn't been paid off, she'd be forced to sign another contract. Her best hope of getting out of it was to accept a wealthy patron who would either start paying for her upkeep OR buy out her contract through marriage.
Also, SHISHIO IS DEAD, so that's not an option. Stop looking at me like that.
Finally, oiran parade reenactments are a thing in Japan today! Look one up on youtube. They're really cool looking.
NOTE THE FOURTH
Catch me in two weeks, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel. Leave me your comments and your observations, because they really are the gift that keep on giving. Certainly they make posting this sprawling epic a lot more fun.
REPLIES TO SOME OF YOUR COMMENTS - ALSO I HAVE SOME NEW READERS! *flailing Kermit arms*
Radical Dreamer 57: Well, your thoughts about Kenshin's totally innocent visits to a brothel have been answered! Also you really ought to watch the live action movies. They're quite good, and the fight choreography is TOP NOTCH.
Kodachi Claws: As Watsuki never bothered to develop Hiko past "looks cool," I've decided that Niitsu Kakunoshin was his given name. It was his pottery alias in canon, so it might as well be his given name.
TOSoldtimer: That's quite a compliment. Thank you!
TO ANYONE WHO BROUGHT IT UP, AND THERE ARE QUITE A FEW OF YOU: Nice try. Shishio is DEAD.