Chapter 6 – The Girl in the Shadows

In the fourteen days since Ken and Ran had duelled, Cherry and her spies had little to report.  Rutherford was involved in innocuous pursuits.  He attended the theatre; he gambled at White's.  He had been to see his tailor five times, refurbishing his wardrobe with tailored vests made of silk he bought in China.  He visited his mistress, a semi-respectable widow on the fringes of society, twice.  His gang of cronies accompanied him almost everywhere.  Ran Fujimiya was his silent shadow, accompanying him to the places none of the others were permitted.  Of Takaoka, there was no sign.

It was late afternoon, and Ken was in his study.  He had only just settled himself behind his desk when Cherry burst through the doors, panting as though she had run a great distance.  She looked near to fainting; alarm had leeched the colour from her skin and her lips were pale with tension.  The sunlight caught her at a sharp angle, and Ken observed the strangely Asian cast to her features.  It was slight, but incredibly obvious if one knew how to look; eyes that were caught between almond-shaped and oval: something subtle about the cheekbones.  He wondered, not for the first time, about the father she never mentioned, the mother who had died when she was a child.

He noticed all of this in the instant before she spoke; a split-second pondering that vanished at her hurried speech.

"Master Ken?  He saw me," she gasped.  "That samurai, he saw me."  He drew his brows together sharply.  She hunched over before him, half in supplication, half in an attempt to fill her lungs with air.  In two years, he had never seen her so panicked.

"Calm yourself, Cherry," he said as he stood up.  "Sit down, I'll have Geraint bring you something to drink."  He reached for the bell-pull behind the desk just as Geraint came through the study doors, bearing a tray laden with food, glasses, and a pitcher of water.  News travelled swiftly in the Hidaka manor.  He placed the tray on the desk, bowed, and left as quietly as he had entered, closing the doors behind him as he went.  Cherry sat on the edge of one of the leather chairs, trying to calm her breathing.

Cherry was the best at what she did, and Fujimiya had still spotted her.  That thought raced through Ken's mind as she sipped obediently at the water he poured her and nibbled at a sandwich.  "Tell me exactly what happened, Cherry.  When did he see you?"

She swallowed a mouthful of sandwich, following it with a gulp of water, before explaining.  She had been watching Rutherford's house, waiting for him to leave so that she could follow.  She was only planning on following him for about a block; she had her network of spies set up so that there was always someone at every intersection, creating a mutable web.  It made the job easier, and the chances of being spotted less. 

It was just her bad luck that the samurai had caught her looking directly at the house when he reached the street.

"It was only for a second, but he looked flummoxed, Master Ken," she said.  "It was like he'd seen a ghost; he got a lot paler, and his eyes went really wide."  She fidgeted with the glass.  "It looked like he was going to come over to me, but Creepy called him, and he just followed.  I didn't go after them, because I was sure that one of the others would.  Carver, maybe.  Or Bri."

He knew that her shifty colleagues would be in touch with her as soon as it was safe, so he didn't bother to ask her to keep him informed.  He was about to remind her to be more cautious when her head popped up.

"I almost forgot," she said, a wide grin transforming her face.  "That man you described, Master Ken?  I know who he is."  She reached into one of the many pockets her current outfit provided, pulling out a small notebook.  He had purchased it for her a year ago, after realizing that she could both read and write.  She flicked to a page near the beginning.

"His name's Adamson.  Norman Adamson.  He's Rutherford's son.  His bastard."  She paused, flicking her eyes up.  "Seems Creepy ignored him all his life growing up, but when his mother died, he started living on Creepy's estate in Dorset.  He came up to London just before Creepy came back from Japan.  And," she drawled, gesturing in the direction of the window, "he's been watching the house lately."  She waited for Ken to process that information.

So, the intensely focused young man at the duel was Rutherford's illegitimate son…and he was watching Ken's house.  It didn't explain why he was so fascinated with Ken, but it did bear some thought.  Cherry had only noticed his surveillance recently; had he been there earlier?  Ken let the thought simmer in the back of his mind; hopefully by the time he came back to it, some type of answer would be there. 

"The woman?  Have you seen her?" he asked.  Cherry flipped back a few pages, and consulted her notes.

"I haven't seen her, exactly," she said, "but I'm sure she's still in there.  I heard a couple of Rutherford's servants talking about her…what they'd like to do to her."  A shudder, slight but visible, racked her slender frame.  "And I heard a man and woman talking in a foreign language the other day.  I thought it was the samurai, though I haven't ever heard him talking to anyone."

"Did you hear anything specific?"  He didn't hope for much; Cherry spoke no language but English, with the occasional foray into broad Yorkshire she had picked up from old Granny Medlock.

"Uh huh."  She consulted her notes again.  "He said ah-ya a lot, and something that sounded like ma-mow-roon-da."  She looked up at him, eagerness trying to hide itself under a professional detachment.  "Does that mean anything to you, Master Ken?"

He kept his face impassive.  "Send somebody else to watch the house for the next few days, Cherry.  He's not going to be an easy mark to slip by."  He ignored the look of disappointment on her face, choosing to seat himself behind the desk again and immerse himself in thought.  He was only idly aware of her putting her book away and carrying the tray of food out of the study.  He barely noticed the door closing behind her.

Cherry had said that Ran looked surprised to see her; flummoxed, she said.  It was the first time she had seen any type of expression on his face.  Had it been the realization that she was watching him, or was there something about her appearance that had disturbed him?  She looked like many of the street urchins in London; ragged and underfed.  She tended to insert herself in groups of people when she was in public, to make herself less obvious.  For a neighbourhood like Rutherford's, she wore nondescript clothing of the lower housemaid variety.  What could there have been about a young maidservant that had the power to surprise the samurai?

He swept his hand along the polished mahogany of the desk, thinking, not for the first time, that it would be handy if he possessed the vampiric powers described in folklore: specifically, the ability to turn himself into mist or a small animal.  He couldn't count on Cherry and her spies to accurately bring back a conversation between Ran and Takaoka, when all they could make out were snatches of words they didn't understand

Aya.  Was that Takaoka's given name?  She could be Ran's lover.  If he was sold into Rutherford's service, she might have chosen to be sold also.  Perhaps it was better for her to be Rutherford's slave and be near Fujimiya rather than to remain behind, alone.  That could have been what Ran meant when he implied she knew what she was getting into.

But he hadn't been able to sense anything between them that first night.  There was a kind of connection between lovers that left an intangible impression on them: a sensation akin to a scent, a taste.  Ken hadn't sensed anything like that between them the night of Lucy's ball.  And the idea he had of Ran being averse to a personal relationship was still strong; the man had a body that screamed carnality but his emotions were too firmly hidden.

Ma-mow-roon-da, Cherry had said.  Mamorunda.  Who was protecting whom in Rutherford's house?  And, more importantly, would he have to kill Ran to get to Rutherford?

He was not a patient man by nature, and the five months he had waited for Rutherford's return had grated heavily on his nerves.  He wanted more than Rutherford's death; he wanted to expose the man's crimes to the eyes of society, to give his victims' families a face to put their hatred to, and then he wanted to annihilate him completely.  He wanted to rip Rutherford's beating heart from his chest and crush it under his foot.  He wanted nothing of such evil to remain.

The monster he struggled with every day raged inside him, and it was only a matter of time before he could contain it no longer.  And, at that time, he wouldn't try.

The next day found Ken behind his desk again, attempting to sort out various bills.  Ver teased him for being so punctual with his creditors, but he hated the thought of dunning simple merchants out of their money.  It wasn't like he hadn't accumulated enough over the course of two centuries.  The plain truth of the matter was that after so many years spent in Europe, he still hadn't mastered English currency, and he hated to have to have someone else explain it to him.  Thus, he had been alone all afternoon, as none of the servants were brave enough to disturb him.

The doors to the office were abruptly pushed open.  Ken looked up, annoyed.  Whatever irritable remark he had been about to make died unspoken at the sight of the couple before him.  Geraint waltzing naked with Lady Wagnall's eldest daughter couldn't have shocked him more.  A bill from Emile Gagnon dropped to the desk.

Ran Fujimiya stood in the doorway, firmly but gently holding Cherry before him.  Cherry looked nervous but not terrified, which was a mark in Fujimiya's favour.  If she had looked frightened, Ken would have had to kill him.  He knew that Ran had seen her the day before, but hadn't realized the other man had connected the two of them.

Fujimiya's first words dispelled that illusion.  "You!" he snarled, free hand dropping to the hilt of his katana.  "What are you doing here?"

Ken rose slowly, acutely aware of his lack of weaponry.  Ran hadn't known Cherry worked for him…so it had to be something about Cherry herself that drew him.

"I could ask you the same question," he said, stepping out from behind the desk.  "What exactly do you think you're doing with my servant?"

"You sent her to spy on me.  Are you in league with Takatori as well, you traitorous dog?"  His tone was brutal and accusing, but his grip on Cherry remained gentle.  She looked towards Ken, not certain, as he spoke in his native tongue, what Fujimiya was saying.

"It was an accident, Master Ken.  I didn't mean for him to catch me."  The confidence he had worked so hard at building in her had fled; she wilted in Fujimiya's grip like a flower.  Before Ken could say anything comforting, Ran had moved.  He led her unresisting form to the nearest chair and made her sit down.

"It's all right, Cherry," Ken murmured.  "I told you he'd be a hard mark to slip past."  Once Ran had stepped back from the girl, Ken asked, "What possible reason do you have for accusing me of being in league with a corrupt politician who traffics in human slavery?"

Ran's face became stoic again, all previous traces of anger erased.  His posture stiffened, and his hand dropped to his hilt again.  "Because you sent this girl to spy on me, to watch my every movement and ensure I am fulfilling my duty."  He stepped forward, moving closer until Ken was forced to look up slightly to maintain eye contact.  "Tell your master that I will fulfil my duty, as disgusting as it is, and that if he lays a hand on her, just once, I will destroy everything around him."
Ken leaned back against the desk, feigning nonchalance.  "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  "Because all you're doing is convincing me that you're an idiot."

"The girl," he hissed, pointing towards her.  "Why else would you have sent her to spy on me?"

"I sent her to spy on Rutherford because she's the best eyes and ears in London.  Rutherford wouldn't have caught her."  Who was the she Ran referred to?  It couldn't be Takaoka, if he was worried about Takatori harming her.  It had to be someone he had left behind in Japan.  "It's nothing to do with you.  If you want to yell and rave at me, you will wait until I have spoken with her."  He didn't wait for Fujimiya's assent.  Switching back to English, he asked Cherry to explain how and where she had been discovered.

As she described the scene to him, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to paint the events out to him…

She had hidden in the mouth of the alley across from Rutherford's tailor's shop.  It was dark and the walls were close and a large wooden palisade structure was at her back: she felt secure there.  Master Ken had told her to let someone else shadow Rutherford, but she couldn't stop.  She was the best at what she did: everyone knew it.  Creepy could never in a million years catch her; she moved within the shadows like a cat.

She had watched Rutherford and his cronies enter the shop earlier, the samurai close behind.  Personally, she couldn't understand how the man could spend so much time at his tailor's and still look so atrocious; she much preferred Master Ken's understated wardrobe to Creepy's outlandish coats and vests.  She even thought the samurai's outfit was better, no matter how strange he looked next to the Englishmen.

So intent was she in her surveillance of the shop door that she didn't sense the danger behind her.

Only willpower gathered over years of living on the streets prevented her from crying out as hands gripped her from behind.  She went limp immediately, hoping to slip out from under her attacker's grasp, but he was prepared for that.  He switched his hold from her shoulders to her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.  She tried to kick backwards, but again he was a step ahead of her; he lifted her up so that her feet dangled, applying pressure around her waist.  Now she was ready to scream; his hand over her mouth forestalled her.  He pulled her further into the sheltering darkness of the alley, turned so that he was between her and the street, and dropped her down in front of him.

She reached for the small knife she had hidden in her bodice, and whirled around to face him.  He caught her by the wrist and twisted her arm up behind her, forcing her body against his.  The knife dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers.  She looked at his face for the first time, prepared to spit and bite if that was what it took to get free.

Her attacker was the samurai…and he looked shocked to see her.  They both froze.

"Aya," he whispered, peering down at her.  His voice was husky, softer than she recalled.  His grip loosened enough that she could slip free.  "Aya," he whispered again.

"What?"  It slipped free before she knew she was going to speak.  What was an ah-ya?

"Imouto."  The word rolled off his tongue like a benediction.

"I don't understand you," she said, edging away.  This man protected Creepy Rutherford; he couldn't be trusted.  No matter that he had a voice like the angel Gabriel himself, he was dangerous.  Tears started welling in her eyes; confused and afraid, she wanted to be back in the ordered chaos that was Master Ken's house.  There was safety only with Master Ken…

"You look…your face…"  His English failed him as he stared at her, transfixed.  He reached towards her face and she jumped backwards, crying out, "Don't!"

He pulled his hand away, amazed at her fear.  "Shh.  I won't hurt you."  When she continued to cringe away from him, his face hardened, assuming the expressionless expression she was accustomed to.  When he said, "Take me to your master," his voice was cold and hard again.

"And so I had to bring him here, Master Ken.  I tried to get away, but he was holding my arm so I couldn't.  I'm sorry."  Cherry hunched miserably in the chair, not making eye contact.  He could almost taste her disappointment in herself; she had gone against his wishes, and then she had gotten caught.  He laid a gentle hand on her head.

"Don't worry, Cherry," he said, forcing lightness into his tone.  "Go get yourself something to eat and have a rest.  I'll talk to Mr. Fujimiya alone."  She rose and made her way to the door, keeping her head low and Ken between her and Fujimiya.  Geraint opened the study doors just as she got to them.  "Geraint, take her down to Molly, she's had a bad day."  Geraint nodded and led the unhappy girl away.

So, Aya was not Fujimiya's lover, but his sister…and Cherry looked enough like her to distract the man in mid-attack.  It explained nothing…but hinted at so much.  Ran had remained silent throughout Cherry's explanation, eyes riveted on her face.  Ken had seen a kind of longing in the young man's eyes; a loneliness, a homesickness.  He had not left his Aya willingly, that was for certain.  That was why he had jumped to an irrational conclusion upon realizing Cherry was in Ken's service.

Perhaps it was time to try to clear the misunderstandings away…

"The man you serve is responsible for the death of my woman," he said.  "I am bound to take vengeance for her."  Fujimiya's eyes widened slightly.

"He killed your woman?"

Ken sighed, settling more comfortably against the desk.  "He didn't, physically.  But he incited the one who did kill her to do the deed."  He gestured towards the chair recently vacated by Cherry.  "Please sit, Fujimiya-san."  The other man did so warily; obviously he had not spent a great deal of his time sitting at Rutherford's.  "Surely you've noticed he is not a man of honour?"  When Ran said nothing, Ken changed his approach.

"The woman you travel with…Takaoka-san…is she well?"  The samurai's eyes narrowed.  Strange that he says so much with such a small gesture.  "I found it odd that Cherry saw no sign of her."

"That man does not permit that she leave his house," Fujimiya admitted, grudgingly.  "He would prefer that she not leave his bedroom."  There was anger in his tone; a soft thread of fury that tried to hide under indifference.

"Has he had a physician look at her injuries?"  Again, silence.  "I could smell her blood on him, Fujimiya-san, as I'm sure you can."

"What do you know of blood?"  Fujimiya's eyes were ice.  "You, a dog who abandoned his homeland?  The skies rained red; the streets ran with it like rivers… You did not live through the years of blood."

Ken rolled his eyes.  "Don't change the subject.  I didn't have to live through the end of the Bakufu to know the smell of a woman's blood on a man's hand.  I know more about the blood of the innocent than you can ever pretend to."

Silence stretched between them.  Ken imagined he could hear his words echoing in the confines of the study, bouncing off cherry bookcases and being muffled by velvet drapes.  He sighed again.  "Who tends to her injuries?"

"I do."

Fujimiya's voice was soft.  "I wash her cuts.  I apply ice to her bruises, balm to her burns.  I hold her when that man has finished with her."  He looked into Ken's eyes.  "What kind of country is this, that such a man walks the streets with no fear?  Why do the people not cast him out?"
Why, indeed.  "Because they do not know what he is."  Ken pulled himself up onto the desk and crossed his legs beneath him.  "He is a master at hiding his true nature…and most of these English do not care to look beneath the surface.  That is why."  He folded his hands together.  "That is why I must take vengeance, why I sent that girl to watch him.  I know what he is, and I will destroy him."

He sighed inwardly.  There could be no turning back after his next declaration.  "Now that you know my intent, my mission will be more difficult…but I will continue."

The samurai rose gracefully.  He adjusted the magnolia sheaths of his daisho, keeping a hand on the katana's hilt.  "It is my duty to stop you.  I am bound to keep him safe."

"For Aya's sake?"  The look that Ran shot him would have slain a weaker man.  Ken was glad his knees were curled up under him; otherwise, they might have trembled at the force of that glare.

"Mistake me not, Hidaka," the other man growled.  "I do not care if that man lives or  dies, except that his death would stain my honour…and make vulnerable the person that I fight for.  I will protect him…but I will not give him any warning."  He stepped closer to the desk Ken perched upon.  "I give you my word on that." 

For a moment their eyes locked, iced violet and calm brown.  Silence fell around them; Ken imagined the dust motes froze mid-fall in the sunlight.  There was something around them; emotions made almost tangible in the silence.  Then Fujimiya pulled back, walked to the door.  "Don't send that girl to watch again," he said as he left.  He closed the door behind him, and Ken was alone again.

He wasn't certain why he had revealed what he had.  It was entirely possible that Ran would report everything to Rutherford, and the edge of surprise would be gone.  Letting the samurai know the reasons for his pursuit of Rutherford had not been in his plans.

All he could think of was that he knew Ran would keep silent.  There was no trust between them, but Ran had said he would not reveal all, and Ken had to believe him.  The man lacked social graces, true, but he possessed honour in spades and would not dishonour himself by going back on his word.  There was respect between them, if not trust.

And that would have to suffice…for the moment.

Notes:

I hadn't realized it would be difficult to write when my friends started wanting to know what I was doing…Trying to explain this to them that, No, I can't publish it, and No, I don't think you should read it has been difficult.  Not to mention that work, while mind-numbingly repetitive, has been stealing away my creativity…Curse my financial dependence…

Chapter 7 should follow soon, if the Powers That Be will it.