Recommended Reading: Heart of Darkness and The Gathering are good ideas, naturally. Having a background in this part of Samura's storyline is really useful in making sense of some of this chapter, although it again could still stand on its own. I also used Dark Shadows as a reference when writing this. Hee. If you can pick out what I tied in, I'll give you... erm... something? ^^
" Tomorrow's just an excuse away
So I pull my collar up and face the cold
...On my own."
--The Smashing Pumpkins
When Dreaming Ends
Part Four -- Looking Back on a Vengeance-Path
Renzo awoke from a fitful sleep to find himself slumped in the back corner of an alleyway. He was quite a distance from the sword-polisher's shop, although he didn't quite remember how far. It had been a strange, almost dream-like night... but when he found himself looking across the alley that morning, he realized that he was sitting in a harsh reality. There was no blurring here.
He was sitting against the wall with the sword in the crook of his shoulder and a small pack at his side that he had made from the wrapping cloth that the weapon was in. After a moment of rousing he pulled it over his shoulders and eased himself to his feet. He fiddled with the cord that was wrapped around the hilt of his stolen sword, and slung that over his back as well.
Renzo had spent a long time thinking before he finally drifted off to sleep the night before. Hence, this time he walked with a path in mind. He knew what he was looking for. It was only a matter of finding the right trail. Renzo had no idea where Asano Rin and her companion were heading, but there were ways of finding out.
After all, they were wanted murderers.
- - -
It took a lot of questioning and wandering, but eventually Renzo found himself standing in front of the office of the district metsuke. The building was plain and unimposing, and even the lower-ranking city watchmen who rested outside with their long-pole lanterns after shift seemed bleak and unthreatening. However, despite this, Renzo felt a tightness in his stomach at the sight of the place.
He did not act on it, however, as he strode up to the front step with his chin high. One of the watchmen gave him a glance as Renzo was slipping out of his sandals, and then cast on a crooked smile.
"You aren't just going to waltz in there, are you kid? The metsuke is a very busy man." The man lacked the refined accent of a higher-ranked worker, and thus sounded quite brash. He was scrawny and a little stooped, almost insect-like in appearance. Homely.
Renzo's knotted stomach twined at the realization that he was being spoken to, but with that came a bout of stubborn defensiveness. He raised his head a little higher, and said with almost haughty pointed-ness, "I have some information on the pair that killed those travelers, old man, and I am going to give it to the inspector."
The man chewed on the end of his pipe and glared idly at Renzo from beneath the rim of his hat. "You should watch how you talk to your elders, boy -- pull that with Inspector Tsuruta and you'll probably be walking out without a tongue."
"Or a head." Another man said.
The first officer leaned back. "What have you got?"
Renzo tightened his lips defiantly. Something brash and cocky rose into his throat, but he remembered an encounter that he once had with an irritable samurai and found himself holding back. If refusing to apologize for a stupid broken sandal had been grounds for Renzo to have his life in danger, he didn't even want to think about where he would end up for snapping at an officer who was just getting off a long shift. He hated the proud bastards, yes, but he didn't have time to fool around.
"If you'll excuse me," Renzo said. "I have important information and would like to have an audience with the metsuke. I do not want to keep you on duty any longer. Good day."
It reminded him of Rin, how he smoothed his words down to avoid another man's temper. He hated himself for it, and yet could not deny the fact that the subtle method had worked before. However, this time he only got a few steps toward the door before the officer grabbed his arm and jerked him back a step.
"Hey!"
"You can't just walk in there," the watchman said. "Tsuruta is a very busy man. People just can't step in like they own the place, ya know."
"I need to talk to him." Renzo said. His irritation was starting to shine through, and the watchman took note of this with a narrowing of his eyes.
"You'll have to get an appointment. If you want to save time, talk to us."
"You're just lap dogs." Renzo retorted. "I need to talk to a real officer who knows things. If you want to save time, then maybe you should go and fetch him."
There went Asano Rin's polite strategy.
There was a snap as the man clacked his lantern pole downward in order to rise sharply into an upright position. The other men, letting out a small chorus of grumbles and short retorts seemed to follow suit, and Renzo... half glory-fed by the response that he was getting and half terrified, made a quick motion toward the sliding door that led to the metsuke's quarters.
The skinny watchman by the door was less gentle this time. Forcefully he took Renzo's arm again and jerked him back. Renzo let out a belt, and he was clipped firmly behind one ear. It hurt terribly, but Renzo felt anger more than pain. Forcefully, almost spastically, he jerked loose and forced himself back toward the door again.
"He's making an attack on the metsuke!"
He felt more hands clap down onto him, and almost fell on his face as a number of men pulled him back. A few people passing by on the street stopped and stared.
"Attack?! You crazy old dog! What are you talking about?!" Renzo struggled and kicked, and winced as he was struck on the back with one of the lantern poles. He yelled out then, half to relieve pain and half in desperate panic. "Hey! Hey! Help! Inspector! I need to...!!" Another pull jerked him onto his belly, and his words were cut off as he hit the ground belly first. Furious and frantic, he pulled one of his sandals off the stepping-stone and threw it at the door.
As the shoe snapped against the wooden panels and tore a square of rice paper, Renzo was distracted by the sound of a sword leaving its sheath. With a surge of panic he realized that a few of these men must have been armed. All of his blood rushed to his feet as he felt two pairs of hands holding his shoulders down like a wild animal being prepared for slaughter. His mouth pressed into the dirty street, and he inhaled a lungful of dust in his sudden realization.
And then there was a loud clack, and the commotion was severed into a corpselike halt. Renzo painfully eased his head up, but could only crane his neck up far enough to see the wide and skirt-like bottom of a pair of hakama, and the clean split-toed stocking feet that poked out just beneath. Someone was standing firmly on the front step of the metsuke's office.
Renzo couldn't see his face or hands, but the man must have signaled for the watchmen to release their hold. Renzo's shoulders were finally freed, and he felt a cool air of relief as everyone took a step away from him. Indignant, he tugged his collar back in place and roughly dusted off his arm, glaring over his shoulder at a number of blank and bashful faces. However, the boy's smug look faded as he realized that the metsuke was staring intently--and quite unhappily--down at him.
He swallowed painfully over the large lump in his throat. The metsuke wasn't as big as Renzo would have pictured him, but there was something in that neatly-lined face and those dark eyes that radiated power and intelligence. It took a lot of both to be an effective chief-of-police, and this man had the aura of a great leader. His garments were perfectly pressed and his hair neatly oiled... even when just standing there he looked strong and imposing.
"...You broke my shoji." He said simply.
"I-I... I'm sorry." Renzo said. He was too stunned to bow or offer any other sort of humble response. His bottom was still sprawled on the ground, and the hand that had been rubbing his shoulder clung tensely there.
"...I expect you to repair it immediately." And then the metsuke was signaling for the watchmen to depart with a flick of his finger and turning around to return to his quarters.
Renzo blinked.
That... that's it?!
"Hey!" He cried. He could feel a few of the watchmen cringe, heard a chuckle or two, and then watched the metsuke's shoulders twitch and stiffen at the sound. Renzo, already snowballing, could only continue. "I need to know about those murders! The two travelers! You've gotta tell me what happened!"
The metsuke looked over one shoulder. A thick eyebrow had risen with an emotion that Renzo could not read. Perhaps it was irritation. Perhaps it was surprise. He did not know, and found it impossible to tell. He didn't say anything, and Renzo felt his heart snare.
"I-I... they...I...my father..." He stammered. "They...murdered my father...and...I've gotta...f-find...find them...they..."
"These are dangerous people. A boy your age should not burden himself with this sort of task when there are swordsmen who are more capable around to execute the matter more safely." The man's voice was as smooth and monotone as the steel across the top of a blade.
"I'm not a kid! I can take care of myself, and I can take care of them!" Renzo snapped. Again, the metsuke blinked a little. "I'm not going to let some stranger kill the people who killed my father before I do! And I can do it! I almost did it before!"
"But you didn't." The metsuke said.
"I'm older now." Renzo replied coldly.
The metsuke eyed him for a moment, as if he were sizing him up. From behind, he knew that the small crowd and the rest of the watchmen were watching him as well. Renzo felt very self-conscious, but kept his face firm and steady.
Eventually, the metsuke spoke. "Do you have a permit to extract revenge on these people?"
Renzo narrowed his eyes, avoiding the trap. "I don't need one. They're wanted criminals."
The metsuke knew this. The boy was treading a dangerous path, and an attitude like the one that Renzo was displaying wouldn't get him far, much less anywhere near the pair that killed those travelers. Worst-off, if he did manage to get that far... he wouldn't last a heartbeat against any swordsman, much less a skilled one. However, there was no stopping fate. The boy's path was set. How saddening.
"Two medicine sellers were slain on the main road to Kaga. A young geisha was also mutilated there. As of now, we're not sure if she will pull through." He finally said. The boy's bold brown eyes shifted a little, and fell into a silence that was stronger than a moment without words... it was obvious that he clung to every sound. The metsuke frowned for a moment, and then continued. "We also just recently discovered that two kenshi were killed in a street fight outside a public bath and inn in Shinjuku on the same day. A man who matches the killer's description was involved."
"And the geisha?" Renzo asked. His voice was almost analytical.
He frowned, just slightly. It was more in the forehead than in the mouth, but present nonetheless. "What about her?"
"Where is she?"
"She is being nursed at a place called yukimachi." The metsuke
said the name of the pleasure-quarter distastefully, as he was of too high a
rank to speak of such a place with anything but spite.
Renzo nodded a little, and then sat there in silence for a while. The metsuke said not a word, and patiently watched him. After a few moments Renzo's face fell, and then twisted a little. "...Hey... is that all? You're a metsuke! You should know more than just that! Come on! I could have picked all of that up from street gossip!"
The metsuke crossed his arms over his chest. "This doesn't satisfy you?"
"You aren't hiding anything?"
The boy certainly didn't mince words. The metsuke felt a smile tug at the inside of his mouth, even though he kept his lips in a tight line. "No. And if I were, you would have no way of finding anything out. Do not waste your breath."
"But--" The man raised a hand to silence him, and Renzo frumped into a frown.
"You know what we know. We'll see how both of us do in the end, yes?" The metsuke shifted his head in a way that was the barest glimmer of a farewell, and rustled around to return to his quarters. This time, he was not stopped. "I will have one of my men deal with the shoji, as they have proven to be quite rude to you..." Something about his tone was ironic, and it was obvious that most of the insult was amusedly set against Renzo himself. "...and bear in mind that it would be wise to hone up on your swordsmanship before you set out to find these people. If you have trouble fighting off a few tired night watchmen, I would hate to see you battle a refined kenshi." And, before Renzo could push out a retort, "Good-day."
The boy blinked. It took him a long time to finally gain the mentality to peel himself off the ground. Everyone stared as he retreated.
- - -
When Renzo finally got on his way again, away from the eyes and the horrid atmosphere of the metsuke's office, he had a basic plan in mind. He would interview the people around the place where that kenshi had been killed on the street -- this was something that the metsuke would have already done, but Renzo had no other avenue. Perhaps he would find the right people. Perhaps he would ask the right questions. Perhaps he would find a spark of luck.
Secondly, he would travel to yukimachi and find the geisha that had been attacked. He had no idea how she could help him, but perhaps she had overheard something about where they were traveling. The metsuke would have asked her the same thing, but there was no harm in trying for himself. What else could he do?
It was a long walk to Shinjuku, and as Renzo passed a number of vendors he felt his first pangs of hunger. However, he did not want to take the time to purchase anything. Even in his hurry he did not reach Shinjuku until mid-afternoon, and he tiredly looked up and down the streets until he found the bath-house that the metsuke had been talking about.
He walked around and called at the door. There was nothing, and he peeked in the windows of the buildings on that side of the street. Everything he saw was dark and empty, and he frustratedly moved from one opening to another.
Suddenly, as he was putting his face to a row of bamboo slats in a kitchen window, a scream broke out from inside and a tray clattered to the floor. The woman inside met his eyes and let out another huff, this one more angry than surprised, and then she was stepping forward to shake her finger at him and snap, "Will you people just stop doing that?!"
Renzo blinked and stepped back from the window.
She was pretty in a strange sort of way, with thick eyebrows and a kerchief wrapped about her head. There was something defiant and raw about her, both in the ways that her eyes flashed and her hands were on her hips. "Don't you just run away! What do you think you are doing? Do you know how rude that is, just poking your head into windows like that? You almost scared the wits out of me!"
"I-I..." Renzo stammered.
"Huh? Huh? Spit it out, kid!"
"I'm looking for someone..." Renzo started, unsure of quite what to say.
"Obviously." The woman said flatly, before he could continue.
"He...he was out here. He killed a man in the street...he... he's the man that murdered my father." Renzo said. This was the second time that he had spoken those words that day -- and just then did he realize it. His throat constricted and began to choke up... how could his father's death have become nothing more than a few dry facts, an excuse...so empty...?
The woman was silent for a moment, staring at him from beneath those bushy brows. And then, without warning, she threw her head back and started to laugh.
Laugh.
"Hey!" Renzo said irritably, choking on the word a little in aftermath of his sudden surge of melancholy. "What the hell?"
The woman was unable to speak, but she waved her hand around on her wrist at him a little, as if signaling for him to stay put a moment. And then, almost buckling over, she walked out of view. Her chortles rang in the small cooking space, and Renzo was staring shockedly into it when he heard a sliding door clack open to his left.
Still chuckling a little, the woman motioned for him to come inside.
She wouldn't talk to him as she bemusedly poured him some tea, and only when she set the cup at his stiff and furious side did she mutter an apology with a hand over her mouth. Renzo glared silently at her, but when she lifted her fingers away he saw that her laughter had been more ironic than amused, and there was a dark, sad little tint to her lips.
"There must be a shortage of fathers in this world, the way that things are going," she said, smiling in that same way. With a tired slump she sank down onto the seat next to him, and put her hands at her sides.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Renzo asked indignantly.
"I've just had a strange couple of days, that's all." She answered. "I'm sorry." Renzo didn't reply to this, and she tiredly rubbed between her eyes with her first two fingers. It took a while for her to continue. "You were talking about that swordfight -- yeah, I saw it."
"What happened?" Renzo asked.
The woman leaned back and crooked an eyebrow at him. For a moment it seemed as if she wasn't going to answer, but she finally sighed at the result of some inner musing and spoke, "Some guy was waltzing around and causing ruckus out in the street... calling himself someone-or-other of the Itto-Ryu. Those bastards are always out getting into trouble, I wasn't surprised."
She noted that Renzo had made no motion toward the tea that she had poured for him. Renzo thought that she was going to mention it again, but rather she simply took it and sipped from the cup herself, a rather informal--if not rude--gesture. Her personality and demeanor made the act almost casual, however, and thus was in it's own way endearing. There was something comfortable about her lack of modesty and self-consciousness.
"Yeah, so..." She continued. "The guy struts around like an alpha horse in its prime, makes a few sharp comments, and then is promptly slaughtered by the man that he was insulting."
"The killer?"
"Huh?"
"The man on the poster," Renzo elaborated. "Was that the wanted man on the poster, the one who killed him?"
"No." The woman continued. "He came up after the fight was over, looked over the body a little. Talked to the winner of the fight, I guess. I dunno, really. I was going to go back inside and get back to work since the excitement was over, but then the guy who killed Mr. Itto-Ryu suddenly went and attacked the guy that you're talking about... it was amazing. This scarface guy's back was turned, and yet he managed to easily get around and kill the other man in one blow. It's scary -- to think that a swordsman like that was staying right upstairs!"
The story was a little confusing, but Renzo got the gist of it. Furthermore, it was the woman's last statement that really caught his attention. Wide-eyed, he leaned forward. "Upstairs? Him?"
"Yup. Him and a bunch of other weirdos." She shrugged. "But I shouldn't complain. They didn't bug me much." For a moment the woman pushed at her sleeves.
"Are they still...?"
She shook her head. "They left days ago. Sorry." And, before he could ask, "No. I don't know where they went."
Renzo looked at her for a moment, let out a deep breath, and hung his head.
The woman watched him with somewhat twisted lips, and it looked as if there was something that she wanted to say for a moment. The kid was obviously planning on treading dangerous ground. The girl called Rin who she had spoken to only a few days earlier came to mind, but she chose not to mention her. Asano Rin wasn't her problem. This kid wasn't her problem.
And yet... "Look," she said. Renzo looked up at her with his miserable eyes, and she put on a little smile in response. "I'm going to make you up something to take on the road with you. On the house -- how's that sound?"
Renzo rubbed a bare toe on the ground and cast his eyes off to one side. He seemed almost dwarfed by the sword that was thrown across his back, even though he was essentially tall enough to pass as a young man now. "I don't want anything."
"Hmph." She said through her nose. There was a clatter behind him as she removed the lid from a steamer of rice. "Where are you headed next?"
"Yukimachi."
"Heh. I wasn't talking about your personal 'excursions,' kid. Honestly, you look too young to be addicted to that sort of stuff."
Renzo glared at her. "There's someone there who can help me."
"Oh," She said, putting a little roll in her voice and eyes. "To help you. Is that how you put it these days?" And, knowing that he wasn't going to take her very lightly, she continued in a more serious tone of voice. "I hope you find what you're looking for, then. It may be tough for a kid your age to get inside."
"I'll find a way."
"Uh-huh." There was a clatter, and Renzo looked up to see her holding a rectangular wooden box out in front of him. He stared at it intensely for a moment, and then turned those eyes defiantly up into her own. "I don't want your pity."
A corner of the woman's lips crooked upward in a dry smile.
"Trust me, kiddo. With a quest like yours... you're going to need it."
Glossarymetsuke- chief of police, inspector
geisha- literally, 'artisan'; skilled entertainers-for-hire, not to be confused with prostitutes
Shinjuku- a district in Edo
yukimachi- a brothel in Edo
kenshi- a wandering swordsman