Ties of Loyalty
By The Unseen Watcher
Chapter 4
Disclaimer: No own Rurouni Kenshin.
No own nothing. Leave 'lone, or Hulk Smash!
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The setting sun illuminated a small clearing in the forest, casting gold and
red shadows over the small hut and the kiln that rested there. The crickets
were just starting up their nightly song when two figures stepped into the
open.
The taller one strode ahead, his shoulders back and
head high. Only someone who knew him well would have noted the subtle stiffness
in his stride and the slight hesitation in his steps, as if he wasn't sure
where the ground was under his feet.
His smaller companion followed closely, trying unsuccessfully not to look like
he was ready to jump forward any second if the other so much as stumbled.
Hiko scowled, tossing an annoyed look over his
shoulder. Unfortunately, it took his vision a bit longer to follow and he
nearly tripped over a stray bucket in his path. Kenshin
was by his side in a instant, steadying him as his
former master sucked in his breath and tried not to wince at the pull the
sudden movement had caused on his ribs.
"I'm fine! Quit mothering!" He whispered harshly. His mood soured
further as the fact that he had to speak quietly in his own home fully
registered.
"Hai, Shishou." Kenshin whispered back, looking slightly wounded at the
reception to his help. Hiko caught the expression
even through the haze that still clung to his vision and sighed. "The
house is that way." He said, gesturing in the vague direction of his hut. Kenshin glanced at it then him. He carefully repressed the
slight smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he got the veiled hint.
He went toward it, slowly, Hiko following closely
behind.
Inside the small interior, Kenshin moved to the large
chest used to store extra cloth and tugged it aside, revealing a trap door.
Pulling it up, he gazed into the small cellar that had been dug out by his
master long ago in order to store and cool vegetables and his extra sake jugs.
"I'd like to know how you found out about this." His master grumbled, his voice nearer normal with the muffling walls
around them. Kenshin fidgeted guiltily under the
other's stare.
"You made me clean this place from top to bottom often enough. I was bound
to discover it sooner or later." He said defensively, suddenly feeling
like a little boy that had been caught in a prank. Hiko
could make a rock feel guilty.
Hiko snorted. "You were young and, impossible as
it sounds, even smaller than you are now. It would have taken a lot of effort
to move that chest. You weren't the type to go above and beyond in your
chores." He was surprised at how much he was enjoying this little
interrogation. Teasing Kenshin had always been fun,
and it was helping now to lighten his mood and salve his wounded ego.
Kenshin looked up, mouth open to say something in his
defense, but stopped as he noted the glimmer of humor in his master's eyes. Hiko could keep a straight face through just about any
situation Kenshin had seen him in. That he would let
true emotion show through now was both startling and somewhat alarming to his
student. Was he sick?
Noticing the concern that had once again entered those large violet eyes, Hiko rolled his own. "I
always wondered where all that dust you swept up went." He said, diverting
the redhead's attention back to defense. Ignoring the other's embarrassed sputtering, he looked down into the narrow darkness. He was
not looking forward to hiding down there like a trapped animal. But then,
that's what he'd been the last few days. He tamped down on his rising anger,
focusing instead on the present. First things first.
Carefully, Hiko sunk down into a sitting position,
legs dangling down into the hole. He was about to lower himself down when a
small hand fell on his shoulder. Irritated at any delay (he wanted to get this
over with), he looked up at his student.
Looked up. Now there was a switch.
*
Kenshin met his master's dark eyes steadily and in
answer reached into his gi, pulling out the bandages
and medicine he had borrowed from Dr. Genzai's
clinic. Hiko's eyebrows rose, surprise flickering
briefly over his face. How had. . .?
For that matter, how had Kenshin known to come? He
hadn't taken the time to consider that it was quite a coincidence for the
younger samurai to be in the area just at this time.
Caught up in his puzzled thoughts, he didn't protest when Kenshin
gestured for him to lie down so his wounds could be better treated. The redhead
carefully peeled away the dark blue strips, trying as best he could not to tear
the wound open again. He winced slightly as he caught sight of it. It wouldn't
become serious if it was tended. Hiko had done a good
job of treating it temporarily, but Kenshin still
wished he could get his master to a doctor.
It was a bullet wound. The slug had gone through his torso and exited the other
side. Kenshin prayed it hadn't hit any vital organs,
and was encouraged by the fact that the signs showed that
wasn't the case. Using the skills he had learned from the man before
him, what he had learned in the war, and even more so from watching Megumi and
Dr. Genzai, he tended to the wound.
Hiko didn't flinch, but that was no surprise to Kenshin. The man wouldn't have admitted he was in pain if
he'd had a dozen sword wounds. Kenshin only hoped
that whatever drug was running through his system helped to dull it. He'd
brought disinfectant but hadn't thought to grab any anesthetic. Hoping to
distract the older man, he asked what had happened.
*
Hiko looked up at his student, gauging his
probable response, then mentally sighed and decided to go for blunt. He was
tired from lack of sleep and loss of blood, and still disoriented. Now was not
the time for games. He spoke softly, recounting events from the sake shop to
the present, leaving out nothing; including the increasing number of people in
the woods lately, and of the conversations he'd overhead in the trees.
By the time he was finished Kenshin was done too,
tying off the last swath of cloth. His ribs were bound tightly, restricting
movement. Hiko sat up, testing his mobility.
Inspecting his student's handiwork, he felt a grudging approval. "Nice
job." He admitted.
Kenshin looked surprised, then pleased. His master
rarely complimented anyone, especially him, and then only when it was well
deserved. Kenshin cleaned up the remains of his
supplies and went over and opened the repositioned chest. Getting out a fresh gi, he handed it to his master.
As Hiko eased the cloth over his shoulder's he spoke,
not looking up. "My turn. Why are you here?"
He sensed Kenshin stiffen and looked up, his onyx
eyes piercing even through the fog that now seemed a permanent resident on his
senses. "How did you know. . .?" he trailed
off, looking as sternly as he could at the redhead.
Kenshin frowned slightly, tilting his head to the
side, a puzzled look entering his eyes. Still thoughtful, he sat down in his
usual position, his sword on his shoulder, looking down. Finally, he looked
back up, and met the older man's gaze.
"I, I'm not sure Shishou." He said,
answering the other's half-spoken question. "These last few nights I've
been having dreams. Different from normal. Last night
I . . ." he paused and took a breath, looking into his master's eyes and
hoping he wouldn't think he was crazy. ". . .I
just KNEW that you were in trouble. So I came." He finished, knowing it
sounded lame.
Hiko studied his former student, turning the story
over in his mind. The tale raised some interesting implications, and confirmed
some of his own suspicions. He'd have to think on it,
but for now he kept his speculations to himself. "You came all the way
from Tokyo?" He asked.
Kenshin nodded. "I jumped the train." He
admitted, ducking his head sheepishly.
Hiko regarded the lowered bright-haired head. His
expression was soft for a fleeting instant before returning to his normal
impassive manner.
"Good night." Hiko said by way of
dismissal, swinging his legs back through the hole. Kenshin
stood up quickly. There had been something in his master's eyes. . . He didn't
ask, knowing Hiko would talk when and if he wanted,
but he was still curious. At least he'd believed him.
*
Kenshin felt daring enough to help Hiko ease down into the cellar. His master didn't protest.
As an afterthought, Kenshin grabbed an extra blanket
and handed it down. There would be plenty of food there already.
Leaving the trap door open for air, he pushed the chest in front of it, hiding
it from immediate view from anyone looking through the doorway.
With one final glance at his master's location, Kenshin
walked through the doorway. As he stepped through, a subtle change came over
him, his very posture altering mid-step as he went from passive to hunting mode
with the ease that only hard experiece could bring.
Glancing around, he again noted the position of everything, more closely
studying the footprints on the soil, and carefully erasing the evidence of his
own and his master's return. He had left the bodies of the fallen where they
were. No trace must be left of his passage. The hunters must not know of his
presence. Yet.
Once he reached the trees, he paused to get his bearings. Years of silent
warfare kept his mouth shut, but internally he was making up new and inventive
oaths, mostly involving certain hunters in rather painful situations. He had
managed to keep calm throughout the recitation of the events, but now he
allowed his cheerful mask to slip, revealing an angry and very dangerous man.
The warrior started to move, not even a leaf disturbed by his passing. He
headed for the light that signaled the location of the enemy's encampment.
***
Night had settled once again over the mountain, illuminated only by the sliver
of the waning moon and the light of a fire set in a small clearing. The forest
was silent, but inside the camp it was a different story.
#Where could he be?! No way we coulda missed him. He's over six-foot and wearing
white for crying out loud! # Smith was grumbling, his limited patience
exhausted after a day of chasing false trails. They'd killed a few rodents and
reduced the bird population a bit, but they were no closer to their real
target.
#There are big trees. Lots of hiding
spots. He could have taken the coat off. # Schuster spoke up, speaking
slowly as if to a particularly slow and tiresome child. Smith shot him a look,
reaching down to finger the six shooters that were a part of his 'rough and
ready' image. He'd had to smuggle them into the country, but had seemed to lose
them in transit. He'd found them that afternoon at the bottom of Spencer's pack
after he mistook it for his. He'd been giving everyone the evil eye since.
#Would you kindly refrain from bickering for a few
hours? In my opinion it has been a rather long day, and I wish to retire in
peace. # Spencer spoke up from across the fire, a slight hint of irritation showing
through his usually bland manner.
#So who's stoppin' ya?! # Smith retorted, hoping to pick a fight. But all he
got was one of those blasted superior looks before the other turned in. #Why
me? # Smith moaned to the world in general. What had he ever done to be stuck
with this bunch of kooks? He'd met them all in a bar in California,
and had thought they'd be kind of fun to hang out with. Boy had he been wrong,
and now he was stuck with them only-heaven-knew-how-far from home.
*
Hiroshi approached the group cautiously, sensing the mood. #Excuse
sirs. # He said tentatively. Smith cast him a bored glance while
Schuster ignored him entirely. Spencer didn't move from his spot on the ground.
Hiroshi forced himself to swallow his pride and irritation at being treated so
by foreigners, managing to keep his voice mild. #Would
like okay to send for more men. Lost many before. Need
more. #
Smith waved his hand idly in a dismissive gesture. #Fine,
fine. The more the merrier I guess. Sent someone to
fetch some extra cronies. #
Hiroshi nodded, head lowered and his expression obscured. #Send for first thing
in morning. # he replied.
#Why not now? It's not as though they have much else to do. # Smith said,
indicating the seven or more men left that were now taking sentry posts or
trying unsuccessfully to get some sleep.
Hiroshi swallowed. Leave alone at night on the Haunted
Mountain? No one could be paid
enough for the job. Vehemently, he shook his head. #No,
morning. # he stated firmly. Smith shrugged,
turning his attention to the warmth of the large fire before him. #Suit yourself. # he said. As Hiroshi
bowed and turned to leave he added. #Hey Heeroshi, you seen Schmidt around? #
Hiroshi again shook his head, knowing this meant no to them. #No
sir. Sorry. # he replied. As he hurried back to
the outer camp, he couldn't suppress a slight shiver between his shoulder
blades at the thought of not knowing where the cold-blooded marksman was.
**
A small shadow attached itself to one of the trees surrounding the large camp.
Veiled eyes surveyed the scene, noting the placement of the foreign leaders in
the middle around the main fire, and little more than half a dozen locals
surrounding them. The hired help seemed to be a bit more huddled than their
confident looking employers. He also noted that one of the four described to
him was missing. The deadliest, according to his master.
Looking around warily, he spotted the man several feet from the camp, hidden
from all view but his own practiced sight. He wouldn't have noticed him at all
if it weren't for the slight glint of light off his gun. The shadow's eyes
narrowed as he surveyed the marksman, who was looking around suspiciously, as
though sensing something. Any emotions he detected were cold, and calculating. Deadly, indeed.
Finally the man returned to camp, and he let himself relax slightly. The men
were talking amongst themselves, and he carefully edged closer to overhear,
finding a spot on a branch just above them.
He listened, and his eyebrows rose. They were telling stories, most of which he
hadn't even heard of. In his present state of mind, he couldn't help but be
amused by the exaggerations. *Now, now. * He mentally chided them after a
particularly dubious story. *I never did THAT . . . I'd never have gotten any sleep
if I kept peering into all the windows in Kyoto.
*
Chuckling internally at his own idle thoughts, he melted back into the forest.
It was only a few hours until morning, and he had things to do. Those tales had
given him a few ideas.
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Surprise! No, I haven't died, I've just been in kind of a funk. Slightly listless. Playing Final Fantasy VII. I don't like writing unless I can actually picture the scenes in my mind. Which means I sometimes need to have paper on hand and write it down fast before an idea runs away from me! Still having trouble with this one. I guess I just suck at strategy. So much for RPG's. I want everything to connect! To have a good plot, and conclusion! I want it to make sense! Bizarre, yes, but it's a little quirk I have. Thanks to my sister, brother, and especially my dad for ideas. Thanks too to all the people who've been giving me ideas in reviews that I can't mention 'cause I haven't asked their permission to yet. Oh, and this chapter is basically an interlude. I like interludes too. Not too many, as you can lose sight of the story that way, but enough where you're not left stranded wondering how the heck the characters got to the next scene!