Title: Hanafubuki
Part 7: For Hire
AN: Read the opening note if you'd like an explaination of the
title (and why it's changed...). Sorry this has taken so long!
I'm slow, I know. Ick, and now it's winter, and I'm cold as
well. But hope you enjoy this part anyhow .
--
As events unfold
Walk to the river again
To stand in the rain
--
Part 7
"Something I need to know?" I squinted in concern as I waited for him to continue, a general feeling of unease settling in my stomach. Sanosuke, although a good decade younger than I, was an accomplished fighter, a loyal ally, and overall a true friend -- I trusted his opinions, and considering how worried he was over what he'd overheard, it was no doubt serious.
"Last night some friends and I were hanging out at the Akabeko." He reached over his folded legs to scoop up a handful of dirt then let it fall back down through his fingers. "It was getting late, and the place was emptying out, but there was still one table besides ours." He paused, and I could sense that he was thinking back over the scene with care.
"They were the same men who were there yesterday... when you left -- the very same men, but this time they had a kid with them." I could feel my heartbeat accelerating as he spoke, and as my mind anticipated his next words, my hands clenched into fists in my lap. "He couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen, but well... he carried himself as though he were at least twice that. Dark hair, you know, but streaked here and there with --"
"Sumire Shimizu."
Sanosuke glanced up sharply at my interjection, his eyes widening in surprise. "Euh, you know him?" He hesitated as if waiting for me to respond, but at my relapse into silence he shrugged and continued his account. "Yeah so, they were right next to us, and I couldn't help overhearing their conversation. The boy had the sense to keep his voice down, but the others were far too drunk to care whether anyone heard them or not..."
- - - - - - - - - -
"Do you have news of my father?" The boy stared intently at his two companions, dark eyes swallowing their own as he ground his teeth in determination. Empty bottles lay scattered across the table, but not a drop had passed his lips.
"Jiro? He's dead, I'm sure of it." The man reached forward to pour himself another round, but Sumire's hand angrily swatted the bottle away.
"You shouldn't use that name in public," he growled. "And how do you know for sure? What proof do you have?" His eyes darted to the left and right as if checking to see if anyone had overheard the name uttered by the older man across from him.
"You want proof? Here--" The second man pulled his hands into his sleeves, feeling around for something. "--is this proof enough for you?" A small golden hairpin fell onto the table, and even in the dim light there was no mistaking the object's identity.
"W-where did you get this?" As his voice wavered in surprise, Sumire's hand shot forward to claim the pin, his fingers tracing the familiar edges. "You have to tell me where you found this!" His tone was angry, insistent, almost frantic.
"Cool it, kid, we don't have to tell you anything--" The first speaker held up a limp hand to wave off any protests "--but because your father was always good to us we'll help you out this one time. Just don't come running back to us later when you're scared shitless."
"Just tell me."
"The Hitokiri Battousai dropped it on our table yesterday," the second speaker replied offhandedly, apparently unperturbed by the boy's stare. "Maybe he's the reason why you're father's gone missing.
- - - - - - - - - -
"That's all I heard before the boy managed to bully the others into lowering their voices." Sano shrugged apologetically, and my eyes traced down his shoulders and arms to his dust-covered hands, which he wiped against his pant legs. "But because they'd been talking about you and all, when they left, I trailed them out into the night. They split up after about a block, the men heading off one way and the boy in another."
"And you followed Sumire." It was more of a statement than a question. I could sense the direction in which the events were moving and knew from his tone of voice and avoidance of my eyes that the more critical matter had yet to come.
"How he knew where he was going I can only guess, but I followed him through the rougher parts of town to a small building where a man who... knows things lives."
- - - - - - - - - -
"...and what would you have me do if I can't beat my opponent?" the boy whispered tensely though clenched teeth. The light of a single lantern washed the room in dark shadows, and as the two figures sat cross-legged on the floor across from each other, silence hung uncomfortably around them. "I won't let my father's death go unanswered."
"I didn't say you should -- but if your opponent is as skilled as you insist he is, you'll have to hire real assistance, and that, as everything does, costs money." The speaker was thin but sturdy, past his prime but not yet gray and feeble. Straight hair was pulled back meticulously from his face, and although his dark jacket was patched and faded, it was clean and relatively well kept. His voice drawled languidly, meandering along the twisting roads of suggestion.
"I'll pay whatever it takes. I've no other goal than to avenge my father's death." Sumire, in contrast, leaned forward eagerly, fingers tapping lightly against the tatami mats beneath him as he stared into the other's lined face.
"You'll want to see Hitokiri Junzou then." As he mentioned the name, the older man's eyes unfocused, his mind drifting off toward some undefined point in the distance. Sumire ground his teeth in impatience.
"Err... Hitokiri Junzou? Who is he? Is he any good?"
The man, still gazing into the past, sighed. "Is he good? If I didn't know better I'd say you were a stranger to this city... only the name of the legendary Hitokiri Battousai strikes greater fear into the hearts of men--" His eyes narrowed slightly (as if possibly in satisfaction) at Sumire's reaction.
"--ah, I see you stiffen at that name. Yes, I can see you are a man of the sword from the way you carry yourself, as was I in my better days. But even though Battousai disappeared at the end of the Bakumatsu, his name will live on forever in the annuals of time. No one can replace such a name as his, but if any man would try, if any man would have the audacity to think that he could waltz in step with the ghosts of legends, it would be Hitokiri Junzou."
"Enough, no more talk of history, of the Bakufu. Junzou-san, where can I find him?"
The other man narrowed his eyes, frowning, clearly skeptical that anyone would voluntarily want to find the hitokiri. "He lives by himself, moving often and hiding in the shadows, but I happen to know where he was last seen..."
"I'll pay you. What do you want?" Sumire began to reach for his purse, but the old man shook his head in negation.
"I want nothing -- seeing Battousai defeated at last will be payment enough." His eyes glowed red in the lamplight, latent ferocity rising once more from its buried depths, and Sumire's breath caught in his throat. How had the man guessed the murderer was Battousai?
- - - - - - - - - -
"The lantern burned well into the night, but I couldn't hear more than the occasional word, so eventually I left. But Kenshin, even if your kid hadn't heard of Junzou, I have, and he's-- " Sanosuke turned toward me again, brow creased in concern.
"--fairly skilled, yes, I know," I finished quietly. "He was a member of the Kyoto police during the Bakumatsu, a skilled swordsman though certainly not of a caliber with the leaders of the Shinsengumi... but the title is new addition within the last decade." My gaze followed the haphazard path of a white cherry petal as it floated up and down, tumbling in the breeze. "I wonder what he's been doing these past ten years."
"Gaining a reputation in the underworld, that's what. Stories of his slaughter circulate through the streets at night. Damn, Kenshin -- we're talking about the same guy, right?" He plucked a weed from the ground and proceeded to shred it into bits as he spoke, fingers tearing through the green leaves as his zanbatou had never been able to tear through Junzou's flesh.
"Before the revolution he was a ronin, a lordless samurai belonging neither to a feudal domain nor the Bakufu. Once the fighting began he supported the 'Union of Court and Camp' movement and thus was neutral, not endorsing either the Shogunate or the Imperialists over the other." I stared into space as the white cherry blossom petals continued to flutter gently from earth to sky, watching the scene before me but not seeing it. "Something must have happened early on in Kyoto, something that forced him to the Shogunate's side."
"Me, I don't see how anyone could have stayed neutral in Kyoto with everything going on as it did..." Beside me, Sanosuke's fingers curled into fists, the ragged bits of greenery staining his hands as his words slid out from between clenched teeth.
I wasn't certain how to respond, but I was saved by the irregular rhythm of approaching footsteps and a voice that cut easily though the encroaching silence. "Ooh, Sanosuke, here to mooch off another free meal, are you?"
"Euh, what kind of greeting's that, Jou-chan?" Momentarily forgetting his agitation, Sanosuke met the set of eyes staring down at him in accusation then quickly scrambled to his feet so that he stood head and shoulders above his 'opponent'. "No one'll ever visit you if give 'em that kind of welcome when they step through the gate."
"It's only you who gets the special treatment, Rooster-head." Complete with her characteristically smug grin, Megumi appeared at Kaoru's side, her hand held before her mouth as she giggled. "And no one else has an appetite as inhumanly large as yours."
"Anyhow--" Kaoru continued calmly as she stood her ground, arms akimbo, "-- I thought you didn't like my cooking." She was baiting him as always, and thus the familiar rounds of 'friendly' banter began anew.
"Now, now." From my seated position on the dojo step I lifted my eyes up hopefully toward the two of them, looking to avert another shouting match (fortunately there wasn't anything on hand that could easily become a projectile). "Something certainly smells delicious, that it does."
- - - - - - - - - -
"Yahiko, could you let Kaoru-dono know that I'm going out but will be back in time to fix dinner?" I stood besides him as he practiced with his shinai outside, and the sun, just beyond its zenith, soaked warmly into my and back shoulders.
"Sure..." he voice trailed off hesitantly as if he had questions on his mind but wasn't certain how to voice them. "...you say you'll be back for dinner?" He let his hand, loosely gripping the shinai fall to his side, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot as he looked up at me.
"Yes." The last time I'd passed through the dojo gate I'd been unarmed. The last time I'd walked through the wooden gate I'd returned running, paranoid of whom I'd become and whom I was becoming. And the last time I'd left by myself I'd returned with blood on my hands. Kaoru-dono -- I still hadn't told her the truth.
And so I left again, determined to prove to myself that I was still in control, determined to prove that I was not a slave to my sword and the past.
The roads were empty, and the dust from my sandals swirled in thick yellow clouds around my head. It hardly mattered where I was going, for I only needed to reassure my troubled mind, and I let the scenery blur as I paced onward.
I stopped when I could go no farther, stopped at the edge of the river. The water was quieter than I'd remembered it to be, less violent in its grip upon the half-submerged grasses. Beneath the surface lay a carpet of multicolored pebbles, and when I reached into the cold wetness, they slipped through my fingers, slick with mud.
So I sunk onto the thick log by the river's bank and rhythmically traced the marbled patterns of the rocks with muddy fingers. The dull grating sound of stone against stone proved soothing, lulling my mind into a transient moment of peacefulness.
The afternoon passed, and I didn't notice the weather shift until my vision blurred with dripping raindrops. The sun, having just recently dominated the vaulted sky, was smothered in pale gray storm clouds, clouds that looked too gentle and innocent to be crying. The rain was warm, a testament to the progression of spring, and I closed my eyes, losing myself in its light embrace.
"You'll get sick if you sit out here in the rain." She stood behind me, waxed paper umbrella in hand, soft smile indicating that her words were more of a greeting than a rebuke. Dark splotches of moisture speckled her kimono, and her socks, once white, were proof of her journey through the mud puddles.
"So will you." I slid down the rough log so that she could sit where I'd been, that area being marginally dryer than the rest, and I dropped the stones to the ground so that I could take the umbrella while she dried her hands.
"But I haven't already been sick..." She met my eyes as she used her sleeve to wipe the raindrops from her cheeks, "... and I don't have as much on my mind as you do." Ever since, ever since the last time I'd come to the river I'd felt transparent under her gaze. I looked away and sighed.
"You shouldn't have left Yahiko alone. When Sanosuke came by earlier he warned me of rumors concerning that boy from Yoshida-san's dojo, Sumire." I didn't know why I was angry, for if anything happened at the dojo it would be my fault for leaving it.
"I know. He told us as well... but Kenshin, I don't care if you think you're protecting us, you shouldn't always be secretive about everything." Her hands closed over mine as I gripped the umbrella, knuckles white. "We just want to help."
"And what if there's nothing you can do to help?" The words spilled out between us before I could stop them. "Do you want me to tell you everything, every detail of the nights and days of Kyoto, every detail of the bodies that lined the streets? How would that help anything?" I clenched my teeth together, determined to halt the barrage, but to no avail. "You've been wondering about the other night, haven't you? You all have. Do you really want to know what happened?"
I withdrew my hand from the umbrella so quickly that she had to fumble to keep it from falling to the ground. "You see the water here?" I waded into the river, and the rushing water gripped my ankles, urging me in further. "It's moving, always in constant motion. Never in two moments is a drop in the same place, but as a whole entity it remembers, remembers everything. Half a week ago I killed a man here, Kaoru. Do you see how the river enfolds me in its arms, claims me as its own? Do you think it has forgotten so quickly?"
I was up to my waist, sandals sinking into the soft mud, and I couldn't tell whether the wetness on her cheeks was tears or raindrops. "Do you know why Sumire has hired an assassin to hunt me down? It's because his father will never again feel the sun's warmth. He died here, Kaoru, died by my hand." I was beyond caring what I said, was barely even hearing the words as my lips formed them, not believing that I was saying them.
And then she was beside me, catching me before I collapsed into the water, umbrella discarded upon the shore. Halfheartedly I tried to push her away, tried to unwrap her arms from around my waist. "Shhhh..." Her body was warm as she coaxed me back toward the shore, warm as we both sank into the mud on its bank. "Yes, it does help, don't you see?" She reached behind her for the dripping umbrella and unfolded it above our heads. "It helps because we're you're friends, and we care what happens to you."
She brushed the hair from my eyes with as much determination in her fingers as was in her voice. "We're all together, no matter what." And as we sat side by side listening to the gentle impact of rain against ground and water, I found myself leaning against her bright warmness, drawing upon her comfort as I tried to drag my mind back from the abyss of madness. Every time I took a step forward it seemed as though I took another one back as well.
Footsteps. "Two lovebirds in the rain, euh? Looks like I'm going to have to ruffle some feathers, aren't I?"
end of part 7
--
Note 1: Ack, I'm sorry if the parts have seemed a little slow lately.
I promise there's more action coming up... but I needed to do
some plot-building, and I hope the dialogue/flashbacks weren't
too boring/confusing. In case you're wondering, "Junzou" is
written with two kanji, the first meaning a "peragrine falcon"
and the second being the kanji for "three." I'm not quite sure
how the two come together to mean anything -- but I came
across the name and liked it, so who cares . -- Mir (11.11.01)
Note 2: I wonder why 'bad guys' always end up with the worst
(and by worst I mean cheesiest lines?). Poor Sumire, I don't know
if I can actually picture him saying it... and at the same time I
couldn't bring myself to simply edit it out. So it remains. Anyhow,
another edit, another cliffhanger. I'm starting to write the next
new chapter, so hopefully I'll have it completed by the time I
finish edit the existing chapters. Somewhere in the past seven
years I've lost the plot outline to this story, so I'm not sure how
it was originally supposed to end. I'll have to think of something
in the next few weeks... -- Mir (06.27.2008)
.