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Chapter Three: Siblings and Snakes
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Tsurayaki gripped the end of the wood-framed spyglass and turned, attempting to get a better view of the two men on the beach. The hard rock against his stomach was beginning to irritate him, but not quite as much as Yuki's singing.
"In the trees, with bumblebees, crows and owls, crows and owls are waiting. Gobble you up, gobble you up, gobble you up, little girl..."
Pressing his lips together, Tsurayaki watched Kenki Sou grab the younger man and press him to his chest. Ugh. Was Kenki -that- way? Who would have known? Well, it did make a bit of sense. After all, he was very anti-social, and -those- sorts of people probably wanted to hide any perverseness...
"Tsura-ni, whatcha lookin' at?"
Tsura glanced away from the glass towards the young woman laying on her back by his side. Almost sixteen now, and she still wore her hair in pigtails. Her green yukata lay open past her bent knees, exposing way more flesh than decent. Yuki held her colorful paper pinwheel up, giving the spinning kaleidoscope a backdrop of blue sky.
Her face seemed so innocent. But, then, she was innocent. She didn't know anything. Her mind was far too simple to understand the evils of the world. She was a little girl trapped in the body of a young woman.
She'd always been this way, as long as he could remember. Just a smidgen slower than everyone else. Just a bit too eager to believe anything she was told. Unable to remember anything bad, anything her childlike mind didn't want to believe.
Unable to remember much of anything...
But somehow, she always remembered him.
"I'm just watching the beach, Yuki-chan." Yuki wouldn't understand, even if he spent all day explaining it to her. "What are you doing?"
Keeping Yuki talking was the best way to keep her occupied. "I'm singing to the sky. It must get lonely to be so high. Rain is pain, a sad cloud having a cry..." Yuki began to hum quietly, continuing her tune from earlier.
"I see," Tsura replied, returning to his task. He didn't need Yuki to make any sense. She often never did, anyway.
From the bluff where he lay on his stomach, Tsurayaki could barely make out the two figures without the aid of his spyglass. Modern technology was quite a marvelous thing. Using only simple polished glass and wood, he could magnify the distant image. Now, if only he could read lips...
"Tsura-ni?"
"Aa?" Tsurayaki collapsed his spyglass with a click. He wouldn't learn anything more about Kenki Sou today. The hermit and his visitor were returning to the hut. He'd just have to wait. Maybe the smiling boy would leave after a day or two. That would definitely make things easier.
"Do you think it hurts when people get shot?"
Tsurayaki sat up and attempted to correct his sister's yukata, pulling the fabric back over her knees. "Yes, it does. But, you only shoot bad people, right? Bad people who have hurt other good people. So, it is only right for them to get hurt too, isn't it?"
Catching the edge of her spinning pinwheel, Yuki poked her finger into the folded paper and drew a small circle, attempting to make the toy spin in the direction opposite of the wind. "But, how do I know that the people I shoot are bad?"
Tsurayaki grinned softly. So simple. She was so incredibly simple. "Because I tell you they are, and big brother would never lie to you, right?"
"Never?"
"Never ever. Promise."
Yuki leapt up and threw her arms around Tsurayaki's neck. Her rightmost pigtail bounced up and tickled his chin as she hugged him tightly. "You're the best, Tsura-ni. I love you so much. I'd be so sad if you weren't here."
"I know, Yuki-chan, I know." He rubbed her back gently, waiting to be released. But, she only pulled him tighter, crushing her forgotten paper pinwheel between their chests.
She'd make another one. Her little section of their dingy one-room shack was already littered with and pinwheels of every size...
All of them riddled with bullet holes from target practice.
So simple.
And so very, very deadly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A brother.
Soujirou didn't quite know what to think about that.
Most people spoke of family as if it were something great, something to be cherished and adored for your entire life. He'd heard whispers of how your family was supposed to care for you, nourish you, help you to grow. Love you...unconditionally? But, Soujirou had always passed off those notions as fairy tales. Nice stories that people like Anji-san told, but holding no truths, no relevance to the real world.
Family meant 'abandonment', 'fear', 'cruelty'. It meant being stuck with these things, and escaping them only by handing over your soul.
Could he...
Would he...
Kill Okita-san, too?
Soujirou watched as the older man stirred the oyster stew he'd been making. Okita-san looked like he might be lost in thought, too. The warmth of the fire had dried the man's hair into a stringy mess which twisted around his shoulders and back like dead vines. No, not 'Okita-san'. His brother. His brother who could swim very well, and was very grumpy, and called out the name of Himura Battousai in his sleep. His brother...
His brother was interesting.
"Ano...uhhh..." Soujirou winced mildly at his own voice. What should he call Okita? 'Okita-san' didn't seem right, but he didn't really know if it would be polite yet to call him anything else. Well, might as well try and see what sort of reaction he got. "Souji?"
"Hm?"
"You're practically ancient."
Okita looked up from his cooking and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. "I'm not -that- old. I'm only thirty-two."
"Yeah," Soujirou replied, "Old."
Okita harrumphed as he returned to cooking, ropes of hair falling in his face. "Have you considered the possibility that I'm not old, and instead, you're just merely a child?"
"A child? But, I'll be eighteen in two weeks. I've fought..." Soujirou stopped himself. What a ridiculous thing to say. Why should he care if Okita thought of him as a kid? It made no difference at all. None. "Eh, maybe you're right," Soujirou cooed, as cheerful as possible despite the conflicts in his mind.
Okita stared at the stew, watching as the broth turned golden brown. Eighteen? He'd been that age during the Ikeda-ya incident. He'd killed untold numbers of men by that time. How many? How many boys and men? It had to be done, but... Okita still wished he knew their names. He wished he could remember when their brothers and sons came for revenge. So that he could at least tell them with some modicum of truth, that he remembered how honorably they had died.
"Here," Okita said, handing Soujirou a steaming bowl of pungent soup. "It's hot."
Soujirou wondered why Okita had bothered to point out that the soup was hot. Of course it would be. It just came off the fire.
Settling himself across from his younger brother, Okita picked out a chunk of oyster and popped it into his mouth. They tasted so good like this. Just like the first time Bunbu had cooked the soup for him. Bunbu had taken him in and showed him everything, how to care for the oysters. How to cook for himself. How to repair the nets, the traps. How to dive and...maybe even how to live with regret and sorrow as deep as the ocean.
This kid. Okita still knew nothing about him. He'd said that his master had died, but...what kind of life did he lead before wandering? What would make a kid smile like that, even when in pain? Okita watched as Soujirou picked up a piece of oyster, inspected it, and then nibbled off the end.
Okita decided his brother was...very interesting. And he needed to know more about him. And he needed to know more about their mother. "She was very young when she was married to my father."
Soujirou looked up from his soup. "Huh?"
"Mother. She was only fifteen. As the third daughter of her family, they wanted to marry her off to whomever they could. So, when father's family offered, they accepted. He was a very low rank samurai, and her family was of slightly higher rank, but fading fast. I was born the next year. Life in our little village was slow, and very calm, mostly. But, father died when I was eight. There was a terrible storm, and he was trying to pen up the chickens. Part of the barn roof blew off and crushed him."
Soujirou didn't know quite what to say about that. Okita seemed genuinely sad to be talking about his deceased father. "I'm...sorry."
"Yes. Well, I suppose..." Okita returned to poking at his food, "Mother did as well as she could for some months, but it was obvious that things weren't going well. When Kondo-san saw me practicing kata in the yard one morning, he asked my mother if he could take me to his dojo for some testing. I guess he liked what he found, because he told my mother that he wanted to train me. For free. So, mother put me into Kondo-san's hands, and sold our house. She moved to Kyoto to live with relatives. We wrote often, but then...one day...her letters stopped coming."
Okita had stopped eating by now, and sat with his head turned towards the open door, gazing forlornly at the sea beyond.
"Hijikata-san had contacts in Kyoto. He sent them to investigate and found that neighbors said the entire family died of cholera. But, I suppose...she didn't die after all..."
Soujirou knew the rest of the story already. He felt something pull within his throat, as he puzzled at the way to relate the tragic events that had befallen their mother after that time. He had really only known her through the words of his uncles and aunts. Words like 'filthy' and 'low' and most of all 'whore'. He'd been so young when she'd given him away. He really couldn't remember much more about her.
"She..." Soujirou nudged his food fruitlessly, chasing one cooked oyster around the bowl with the end of his chopsticks. "I guess she didn't have anyone else, so she went to the places where fallen and lonesome women tend to go. My father was from an up-and-coming rice merchant family. He was her patron. They were lovers, and maybe in love. I don't know. I used to like to think that there was some reason why..."
Why she didn't drink the poison that could rid a woman of an unwanted child. She certainly must have had access to it. There was probably another reason, Soujirou thought. But, just sometimes, he liked to think that once, perhaps for a very short while, he might have been cherished. A foolish thought. Irrelevant. Who needed them? He could take care of himself. He always, always, had.
"I only lived with her for the very first few years of my life. Then, one day, a man came for me. My father. I didn't know him, but mother said that I should go with him. He would, she said, provide me with a much better life than she ever could. I always supposed that they wanted to be married, but that my father's family wouldn't allow it. He seemed to be a kind man, at least. I enjoyed the few months we had before he..."
Okita turned and watched as his brother related the tale. Soujirou's eyes...his eyes, at least, contained a modicum of sadness for once, darkening as his bangs fell in his face. But, his ki remained guarded. No, it was even -more- guarded. An impenetrable wall of blank steel. Cold and repellant.
'Something happened to this boy,' Okita thought, 'Not just troubles of a normal life. Something evil pulled out his beating heart and crushed it underfoot. That smile... That smile is a battle scar.'
"He died while traveling to a distant warehouse. There were bandits. I ran away several times when I grew older in an attempt to return to my mother. I finally found the house where she had lived with the other women. But, they told me that she was gone. Disappeared one night, they said. Only the old madame, Kiyato, knew what happened, supposedly. Unfortunately, Kiyato had retired to somewhere in southern Okinawa."
Okita leaned forward suddenly, causing the bowl by his knees to wobble as he brushed against it. "You mean you don't know what happened to her for certain?"
"No," Soujirou replied, "Shi...my shishou took me away from my father's house after..." Soujirou's left eyebrow twitched so lightly, Okita almost didn't notice it. "...after they all died. After my other relatives died."
"And you haven't looked for her since then?"
"No."
Anger flashed across Okita's face, concentrating fiercely at his brows, "Why -not-?"
"Why would I?" Soujirou closed his eyes. Okita had to strain to perceive the sharp edge in his voice as he continued. "She gave me away. Women are, by nature, weak. But she didn't even have the strength to care for one son. No. Two sons, it seems now. Why would I want to be associated with her? She's nothing important to me, because I was nothing important to her. She had no courage, no faith in herself. She is despicable, and not just because she was a whore..."
"You..." Okita darted forward, lunging towards Soujirou with incredible speed. Both bowls of stew flew into the air as Okita's hand swung towards Soujirou's face. The younger of the pair dodged at the last second, his eyes wide. Soujirou leaned forward once again, and Okita found a very sharp chopstick pointed right at his chin.
It was just a chopstick, but with enough force, Soujirou could ram it through the soft spot below Okita's jaw and cause a serious injury.
"Please don't..." Soujirou said quietly, his shoulders trembling slightly as he forced himself to lower the utensil, "Please don't ever move to strike me, aniki. You'll end up hurt."
Okita fell back onto his haunches, his eyes shaded by tangles of hair. Fisted hands relaxing, Okita's fingers spread over the tatami as he exhaled every inch of breath stored in his lungs. "Soujirou." Okita bit his own tongue in an attempt to force it to divulge more words. They came out mournful and whispered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. Please forgive me."
"No," Soujirou replied, "I..." The smiling youth put his makeshift weapon down on the ground. Okita-san was asking him to...-forgive-. Why? Had his older brother done anything wrong? Soujirou wasn't certain. How dreadfully confusing everything was, all of a sudden. It would be so nice, right now, to be back at Mt. Hiei by Shishio-san's side. Shishio-san would at least have some idea of how one was supposed to interact with one's long lost brother. Why was Okita-san being so strange now? Perhaps he was upset because he had lost in the skirmish. That seemed reasonable. Losing could put anyone in a foul temper.
"You called me 'Aniki'," Okita whispered, reaching up to push his hair out of his face.
"I...did?"
Straightening his back, Okita nodded curtly. He didn't look angry now, Soujirou noted. Just forlorn. "Would you call me that, Soujirou? From now on?"
"Ano...uh...if you'd like."
Okita grunted his approval and stood to find a rag to clean up the spilled stew. "You move quickly, even as injured as you are. You must have had a formidable shishou."
"Yes," Soujirou replied, picking up chunks of spilled dinner and putting them into his bowl. "He was very strong."
"Did you kill him?"
Soujirou's head shot up, his face incredulous and wide-eyed. "What? Huh? No. Of course not. Why would you think..."
"Nevermind, Soujirou, nevermind. Now. Lets try to have dinner together, again. And this time, remember, a chopstick is for eating. Not for killing your aniki, eh?"
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The darkness of the hut irritated Soujirou like a thick blanket in summertime. He couldn't sleep. And, indeed, it seemed that Okita wasn't faring much better in the endeavor.
His brother's hands balled into fists as he flopped around on his futon like a fish out of water. Okita's blanket had already been tossed into some dark corner, leaving the agonizing man's chest visible to the room's other occupant. Soujirou watched as his brother's muscles reacted to some dream, some passing nightmare, and listened as troubled words spilled from Okita's lips.
He was, quite definitely, a different man altogether when he slept.
"I smell it, too. Blood. He's near, Saitou-san." Okita's face turned quickly to the side. "You men go north. Meet up with squad ten. Alert them..."
Soujirou pulled on his own covers, hiding all of his face except for his eyes. This seemed almost -forbidden-, spying on a man in his sleep. He'd spied on a lot of people before, but never someone...he didn't intend to kill.
"Hijikata-san, Kondo-san...everyone...everyone... I'm so sorry. I should have...I should have..."
Was Okita sobbing? No. No, this was another sound. This was some sort of strange panting. Almost a whistle. The elder brother coughed lightly and flipped himself over onto his other side.
"Himura...Battousai. Battousai... At last."
Okita became still, his hands relaxing, his sudden strangled breathing returning to normal.
"Now I can die, with honor."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Soujirou sat in the doorframe of the seaside hut, scrubbing at Okita's old dinnerware with a thick-bristled brush. Today, apparently, was not a day for checking the oyster traps. Instead, Okita had been spending the morning chopping wood.
Thunk. Shwip. Plunk-plunk. Thunk. Shwip. Plunk-plunk.
Okita cut through the wood like paper, even with his small dull axe. The wind coming off the sea kept them both cool, a refreshing change from the summer which had assaulted Soujirou during his travels.
These old pots. They looked like they predated the formation of the Shogunate. Thick black iron, often bearing writing in some language Soujirou couldn't read. Yet, at least cleaning them was better than laying in bed.
To Soujirou, it seemed like there was always something to do at Okita's house. Cleaning, mending, cooking, repairing. Not to mention Okita's actual -work- with the oysters. When he'd been with Shishio-san, Soujirou had endured a great deal of boredom. Besides actual assignments, he hadn't had much to do besides practice his sword skills. Occasionally, Yumi-san would attempt to teach him something, take him to the theater, or engage him in a game of shogi. But, he never felt exactly at ease with these things. Mostly, he just endured them for Yumi-san's sake.
Okita had been pensive all morning, saying even less than usual, and then only in grunts. Soujirou was beginning to become inured to his brother's perpetual foul mood. He didn't seem angry so much as... Well, it was as if a stormy rain cloud had settled over his brother's mind, and just wouldn't lift. But then sometimes, just rarely, like last night, Soujirou could part the cloud and get a glimpse of the man underneath.
Dunking a pot into the large wooden basin of water, Soujirou saw his own face smiling back at him. Well. It wasn't gone yet. Maybe his smile would outlast Himura's crossed scars. Who knew? His hair had grown quite shaggy. If he stayed here, maybe it would grow as long as Souji's. But could he stay? He hadn't really asked his brother about that, yet. To stay here a while would be nice. Yes. Maybe not forever, but at least long enough to get to know his brother. Himura wouldn't fault him for halting his journey long enough for that, would he?
Soujirou's thoughts caused him not to notice that Okita had stopped chopping the wood and that the older man was now standing, axe in hand, watching Soujirou peer at himself in the water..
"What are you doing?"
Soujirou lifted his head slowly, not a whit embarrassed to be caught gazing at his own reflection. "I was thinking about this place. It's calming. I'd like to stay here with you, aniki. For a while, anyway."
Okita dropped the axe. It landed with a thud, blade down in the wood. He'd been thinking about it, as well. Now that he had a brother, now that things were different... Soujirou could definitely protect himself, even if people did come seeking revenge. But, something else had been plaguing Okita's mind. Their mother. She could be somewhere out there, right now, mourning for the two sons she was forced to give away. Waiting to be rescued from her own hellish guilt.
But, trying to find her would mean he'd have to leave here. Leave this comfortable haven. Just from his biannual trips to the nearby town, he already knew that the world had changed since he'd left it behind. And yet, allowing his fear of the outside to consume him would not appeal to his unrelenting idealism. To -not- go merely because the beach meant safety...would be cowardice. And cowardice went completely against the code of bushido.
"You can't stay here." Okita replied, bending to pick up blocks of wood and stack them beside the hut.
"Oh?" Soujirou pulled a soaking pot out of the tub, turning his reflection into a fragmented puzzle. "Oh. I see." Well, could he really blame Okita? After that interlude with the chopstick, Soujirou really couldn't fault his brother for wanting to get rid of him.
"I can't stay here either," Okita continued, "We have an obligation. An obligation as sons to find out where our mother is. If she is alive, we must put her mind at rest and let her know that we are fine. If she has passed on, we must learn her resting place and go to it. These are filial duties, and they can not be neglected by any swordsman."
"Duty?" That was a new one to Soujirou. A sword was for strength, as far as he knew. It had nothing to do with duty.
"Aa. Duty. Surely the concept is not foreign to you? A man has a duty to his family, to his ideals, and to his country. I've failed my country and my ideals, but if I will be damned before I fail my family."
Soujirou reflected on this as he dried the iron kettle. He'd helped Shishio-san rebel against their country, and failed. The ideals he'd held dear had proven fruitless in the light of Himura's Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. And his family...most of them had fallen to his wakizashi. But, now he had a brother. And, possibly, his mother might still be alive. Just maybe, if he could help Souji, then...in the end...he might not be such a failure after all.
But, he didn't really care if his mother was alive or dead. Why should he? She'd abandoned him, left him in the care of those monsters. Souji, on the other hand, could have left him to die on the beach, but didn't. Okita cared. Maybe he had a strange way of showing it, sure. But, right now, Okita Souji was the only person in the world who really, truly, seemed to care if Seta Soujirou continued to exist.
"I'll go with you, aniki."
"Good." Okita smirked as he wiped his hands on his pants. "We'll leave as soon as your ankle heals."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Okita hissed and turned his head quickly, which only caused the pain to become more pronounced. Soujirou blinked in return and waited until his older brother faced forward again to continue.
"Can't you be more gentle, Soujirou? I'm not going to have any hair left."
The younger brother yanked on the brush, attempting to defeat the frustrating tangles in his brother's black mane. "I could cut it off, aniki. That would be relatively painless."
"No." Definitely not. Okita hadn't cut his hair since he came to this place. In some cultures, he'd learned, leaving one's hair uncut was a sign of shame. He liked the thought. Men or women refusing to beautify themselves, or conform to society's rules of dress, until they could be redeemed. By their appearance, they set themselves apart as outcasts, as failures, until the day they had restored their honor. Quite poetic. But, as far as Okita knew, he'd die with his hair long. "No. It will not be cut."
"Then sit still." After Okita complied, Soujirou began again. His brother's hair slowly transformed itself from a sea salt crusted net into a ribbon of ebony satin. Of course, this had all been Soujirou's idea. They were going to go into town, and Souji didn't seem to understand that he looked like a frightening wildman. The whole town was afraid of him, if what Chihori-san said was true. And having people frightened of you, Soujirou had found, wasn't very conducive to getting anything done in a marketplace. If he had known the task of fixing his brother's hair was going to be this difficult, however, he might have just suggested a hat. Encountering yet another tangle, Soujirou shook his head. "When was the last time you brushed your hair?"
Okita shrugged.
"When was the last time that you took a bath? And I mean, not in the ocean?"
Okita shrugged again. "Waste of firewood."
"Your skin is coated in flakes of dried salt, aniki. I can see them." Okita had no response to this. The only thing, besides being unable to find any concrete answers, which annoyed Soujirou about life as a rurouni had to be the lack of baths. Hunger and bad weather he could endure. But bathing properly, well, he missed that a great deal. Shishio-san did certainly have a fine taste in bathing. They'd visited numerous hot springs. And they had wonderful baths at Mt. Hiei, stocked personally by Yumi-san with a variety of exotic scents. Bathing was lovely, especially when it diminished the smell of blood.
"You have to try to look less crazy, aniki. People are scared of you."
"All the better for them, I'd say."
"It will make it easier for us to travel," Soujirou explained, "If you look less wild, and far less suspicious."
"Mm. I suppose."
Soujirou finished brushing out his brother's hair and then tied it away from his face in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck with a piece of an old yukata sash he'd found. "There. Doesn't that feel better?"
Okita turned his head to look at his brother while at the same time reaching back to touch his hair. It felt so different now, so strangely light and soft. "Yes. That is alright."
"You look like a completely different person, now." Yes. Now that he'd convinced his brother to shed those old green pants in favor of a white yukata with dark grey waves painted at the hem, he looked almost -innocent- when he wasn't scowling. Before, Soujirou had thought the older man looked like what his nickname had suggested, a demon. A sea demon that might gnash its teeth at any passerby. But now, like this, he didn't resemble a demon at all. With his hair brushed and his muscled torso covered by the yukata, he looked...in fact...very gentle.
"Are you finished with me?"
"Yeah," Soujirou replied, using the walking stick Okita had given him in an attempt to stand. "We can go now. But, just to be on the safe side, maybe you should let me do the talking in town."
They left the little hut, and walked slowly up the beach due to Soujirou's hurt ankle. It had become much less problematic over the last few days. He could stand on it now, as long as he didn't turn it awkwardly or put pressure on it for too long. His head, too, had healed a great deal. Now he only kept one strip of folded gauze on it, tying his hair back like the bandana worn by that loud street-fighter which followed Himura around.
Soon, they left the beach in favor of a road into town. The branches of late summer's trees spread full and heavy over the path. Although they kept mostly in the shade, patches of sunlight would fall through and sprinkle their faces and clothing as they walked. Weeds and flowers alike grew unchecked by the roadside, inviting insects with their heady scent.
Traveling on a road was nice, Soujirou had long since decided. Much less difficult than making your way through dense woods with nothing but nature to guide your path. Roads were, of course, far more dangerous than the forest. Well, more dangerous if your name -wasn't- Tenken no Soujirou.
Both men wore swords at their hips. To not do so would have been a bad idea, they had agreed. Okita sported both his katana -and- his wakizashi, while Soujirou carried only a katana. He'd had no need for a wakizashi in a long time, and even carrying one tended to make him unnerved. Instead, he carried a concealed tanto for those emergency situations where one's katana might be out of reach.
The town itself was unremarkable. Small, mildly prosperous due to its proximity with both the sea and the city of Narita, and fairly quiet. Not sleepy, exactly, for other patrons of the markets, taverns, and inns could be found traveling the road, but not exactly bustling with rowdy shows of life either.
"You get our tickets at the harbormaster's office. I'll find supplies."
"Tickets?" Soujirou asked.
"We're not walking to Osaka. That would take us a week or more." Reaching into his sleeve, Okita brought out a small cloth bag. "Here. Boats from Yokohama stop by here occasionally to pick up fresh fish and extra passengers." Okita handed Soujirou two gold coins, causing the younger man to balk slightly. Who knew that Okita had any money at all? You certainly couldn't tell from the way he lived. "That should be enough with some left over. Buy whatever else you want. We'll meet back here in an hour."
"Ano...thanks," Soujirou mumbled. By the time he looked up, Okita had already left, crossing the market square towards a shaded shop front with a rich blue awning.
After a few quiet inquiries to passersby, Soujirou made his way to the harbormaster's office. Ticket prices turned out to be, in his estimation, quite fair. Strange, Soujirou had just assumed they would travel by foot to his hometown of Keita, on the route between Osaka and Kyoto. But, a boat would be much quicker, cutting the journey down to only a day or two.
'When you have somewhere definite to go,' Soujirou supposed, 'You take the most expedient route to get there.'
Soujirou took his change and headed back towards the marketplace. A few children played in the streets, rolling themselves about in awkward somersaults and botched cartwheels.
'Now, what else do I need to buy? I haven't had this much money in a while. I'm not quite sure what to do with it.'
Soujirou browsed carts and shops, not quite certain what to seek. He'd had to mend a couple holes in his clothes already, but nothing which would require them to be replaced. He had all his cleaning utensils for his katana. His shoes had been holding up fine.
As time drug on, Soujirou couldn't come to any decisions. Nothing caught his fancy. Beyond the clothes on his back, his blades, and a good pair of shoes, Soujirou hadn't ever really desired anything. So as not to disappoint his brother, Soujirou ended up buying a pair of paper fans. Fans were useful things, at least, good for combating the lingering summer heat.
He spotted his brother across the market, ducking into a brightly decorated shop, a thick bag of purchases hanging at his side. 'Well, might as well meet back up with aniki early.' Soujirou made his way towards the shop, using his walking stick as efficiently as possible to assist him to his destination.
Peering in the doorway, Soujirou was met with a most interesting sight. Okita Souji was squatting in front of a display, ogling the contents of multicolored paper boxes, gesturing quietly to the young attendant.
Boxes, it appeared, which contained bushels of candy. The smell of the sweet shop was overwhelmingly divine, an opinion which appeared to be shared by Okita who bent his face closer to a box and inhaled.
"Some of these, please," Okita said softly, his eyes shining with childlike greed. "These too."
"Yes, Kenki-san, yes," the woman replied, obliging the murmured requests. "My, you have such a sweet tooth."
Okita didn't reply to this comment. He merely pointed at another cache of candies.
"Those too, Kenki-san?"
Okita nodded and bit his bottom lip. He proceeded to stare at his feet just like a kid caught in the act of stealing sweets before dinner.
Before he could be spotted, Soujirou silently withdrew from the shop and made his way back to the middle of the square. Watching that whole exchange had been singularly bizarre. Was that even his brother? Couldn't have been. His brother was an irascible hermit who was still fighting the Revolution in his sleep. This person acted more like...well...like a lost little boy.
"Did you get the tickets?"
Soujirou spun around to find Okita standing next to him. His previous demeanor now gone, the older man appeared to be glaring hard at a pair of passersby who had ventured too close, invading his personal space.
"Aa. Tickets and these fans. For if we get hot."
Okita turned his head and peered at his brother, eyes narrowed. "That's all you bought?"
"Was I supposed to get something else? Here, I brought you back your change."
Okita took the money, albeit rather reluctantly, without taking his eyes off his brother. "Soujirou, don't you want anything?"
"Mmmm," the humming noise issuing from Soujirou's lips drew out into a long wavering note. "Nope. Can't think of anything I need."
"This doesn't have anything to do with what you need, kid. This has to do with what you want. You can buy things just because you like them, you know. Don't you have anything you like? Anything you enjoy?"
"I like not dying, aniki," Soujirou said, his voice peppered with the hope that such an answer would suffice.
One of Okita's thin dark eyebrows lifted. "Don't you have anything you like to do? I mean...besides things having to do with your sword or wandering around Japan?"
"Uhhhhh. Ano..."
"You need a hobby, Soujirou."
Soujirou laughed good-naturedly and nodded, "Perhaps so, perhaps so. I might should try my hand at poetry like you, eh, aniki?"
Okita sighed, mild exasperation apparent in his fallen shoulders. Sometimes his little brother could be creepy, it seemed. What sort of kid isn't interested in anything in the world? Was that all Soujirou had been doing? Floating around Japan aimlessly, without any ideals or dreams or passions to guide his way? How could a man live, without anything to look forward to? Just wanting to live, but having nothing for which -to- live, seemed so...so...
Desperately hopeless.
"I don't know that poetry would suit you, Soujirou. But, you could certainly try." Okita shook his head sadly and motioned towards a tavern across the way. "Lets go there. We can eat and you can rest your ankle."
Before he could take three steps in the direction of the dining establishment, Soujirou's head turned towards the west.
"Aniki..."
Okita, too, was stopped, peering in the same direction as his brother. "Aa. We're being watched. No. Scrutinized."
"Who do you think..."
"Too far away to tell. Probably just curious townspeople, though. Lets go inside."
On a rooftop, several buildings away, Tsurayaki pursed his lips. He adjusted his spyglass carefully, trying not to reflect the sunlight and give away his position.
"Tsura-ni, Tsura-ni, did you find the bad man?"
Ignoring his sister's question, Tsurayaki collapsed the telescopic lens and headed towards the side of the building where they'd stashed the ladder. "Come on, Yuki. We need to go figure out why they have boat tickets. We have to go to the harbor. You like the harbor, remember?"
"Lots to see, you and me. Boats are for going far. Guided by a distant star." Yuki trailed behind her brother, looking around in utter confusion. What were they just talking about? She couldn't remember. They must be going somewhere. Best just to follow Tsura-ni. Try to keep up. Yes, she must try to keep up with her brother.
Tsura-ni knew everything there was to know about the world, Yuki supposed. And if he didn't know, then he knew how to find out. He was seven years older than her. -Seven-. She could always remember that. That's how many bullets she had before reloading. Two in the right pistol, two in the left, two in the one which she hid at her back, and one bullet in the emergency gun strapped to her leg. Seven.
Of course, Tsura-ni didn't need guns. He was the best fighter in all of Japan. Probably the whole world. No one had ever beaten him, anyway. So, as far as Yuki could tell, that made him the best. He used to work somewhere, didn't he? Somewhere where he lifted heavy things all day, and because of it, he had grown very strong. Yuki thought that might be right. It might be.
Yuki looked up at the sky, watching as a bird passed overhead. She shaped her hand into an "L" and pointed up at the flying creature. Moving her thumb forward, she whispered, "Pow. Gotcha."
"Come on, Yuki."
"Where are we going, Tsura-ni?"
"To the harbor," Tsurayaki replied. She'd forgotten already?
"Have I ever been there before?"
Tsurayaki tried not to sigh. She always got worse during this time of year. By the time fall was in full bloom, he'd be hard pressed to keep her from forgetting her own name. "Yes, imoto. We live there, remember?"
"Oh." Yuki replied cheerfully, climbing down the ladder after her brother, "Right."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Hijikata-sama! Hijikata-sama!"
A white-sleeved hand holding a cigarette raised up to halt the noisy speaker. Curls of smoke drifted through the air, tobacco mixed with incense, casting the already cave-like room into a haze.
"I didn't know your kind could cause such a racket."
A black-clad figure slid into the room, kneeling respectfully in apology. "The news will please you."
"Will it?"
"In return for passage to China, a certain Yukishiro Enishi gave us quite interesting information."
"Yukishiro...Yukishiro..." A line of ash fell to the floor. "I'm not familiar with the name."
"Ah, he's not important. We did learn from him, however, that Saitou Hajime is still alive. Alive and in quite admirable health."
This provoked a response from the usually stoic figure sitting in meditation. A head tilt. "So ka? Saitou Hajime, hm? He was formidable."
"Takani Megumi, as well."
Silence permeated the air. The crouching figure in black leaned forward slightly, as if to catch any whispered words or slight gestures.
"Takani Megumi? The young daughter of Takani? I remember her. She was quite winsome."
"Hijikata-sama, shall I go to discern..."
"No." The smoking figure replied curtly, "You've done well Gin-hebi. Go and assemble the Jadokubatsu. I will go, myself, to investigate this information."
"Yes, Hijikata-sama." With these words, the crouched figure faded completely into the shadows, and disappeared.
The figure dressed in white turned to look at the smoke slowly rising from the incense burner. Smoldering just like that time... No one should be expected to live with those images seared into their mind. No one.
"Now they will pay," came Hijikata Nobue's whisper, "Pay for what you took from me in so many battles. And above all, you will pay for Aizu."
The rail-thin woman stood and raised one arm to twist her long hair up into a loose pile.
One arm...
The only arm she possessed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"It's all arranged then? She knows what to do? You trust her?"
Soujirou nodded and tied his traveling pack down more tightly. "Don't worry, aniki, Chihori-san will do a fine job looking after your house. She's trustworthy, and even if she wasn't, I don't think she'd chance you coming back to find something amiss. Like I said, the entire village is afraid of you."
Okita continued to scowl as he wrapped their swords in a piece of linen and tied them off with rope so they wouldn't rattle. They certainly couldn't wear them on the boat. Instead, Okita decided to take an old bokken Bunbu had bought him some years back. And Soujirou had that tanto he didn't think Okita knew about.
"You should get a wakizashi, Soujirou."
"Oh? Don't need one, really."
"Could be useful someday, you never know."
"Hm." Soujirou sounded cheerfully in response. Okita had learned it was a noise that meant that his brother wasn't going to deride the proposal vocally, but that he wasn't going to consider it, either.
The younger man watched Okita out of the corner of his eye, laughing silently as his brother slipped a sack of candy into his traveling bag.
"Your ankle?"
Soujirou's head turned quickly back to his own packing as Okita looked up from his clandestine squirreling away of sweets. "It's fine."
Okita smirked as he grunted in approval. Soujirou wouldn't tell him if it -was- hurting, so asking amounted to nothing. Still, the kid walked on it properly now, if a bit slowly. It would be fine. They were taking a boat, after all. And the journey from Osaka to Keita didn't amount to much...
Soujirou suddenly became still. He ceased tying the strings on his pack and looked over his shoulder towards the door.
"Aniki..."
"Aa?" Okita looked from Soujirou, across the floor, towards the open shoji. A tremor ran up his spine as he realized the beach had acquired a trespasser. The newcomer's ki flooded the small hut like a tsunami driven landwards from the sea beyond. Looking down at the wrapped swords in his hands, Okita sighed lightly. He wasn't really prepared to kill anyone today. In fact, he hadn't thought much about his life's curse all week. "I see. How ill-timed. Stay here, Soujirou. I'll chase him off." '
'Or kill them and dump them in the ocean,' Okita added mentally, as a mournful tide of guilt washed over his thoughts, 'Depending on how persistent they decide to be.'
Soujirou said nothing, he merely let his eyes follow Souji to the door. Then he put down his travel pack and picked up the walking stick he had been using.
'Silly Aniki,' Soujirou thought as he stepped into the afternoon sunlight, 'You must really be out of practice if you didn't sense that there are two trespassers. However did you survive those terrible wars?'
On the beach, a muscle-bound man a few years Soujirou's senior stood, his arms crossed. He held no weapons, but he didn't exactly look like he was on a peace mission, either. His blue-black hair rippled over his shoulders, catching on the thick wool of his homespun gi.
"Kenki Sou," Tsurayaki declared, watching his opponent approach, "I've come for what is mine."
"Is that so?" Souji replied evenly as his hand fell on the hilt of his bokken, "And what would that be?"
Tsurayaki snorted and rolled his eyes. "This land, you fool. The land and the pearls. Tell me where they are, and I will let you die swiftly."
Back by the hut, Soujirou pressed his fingers to his temple as his smile slipped a few millimeters. He gazed up the beach until he saw a tiny spot of pink blow out from behind a large boulder.
"Oh Souji," Soujirou muttered, "You're going to get yourself shot."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Chou!"
The odd looking man from Kansai opened one eye and looked up at his employer. From where Chou had been napping in the corner of the office, he could only see Saitou's upper shoulders and head. The lanky man blew smoke out of his nose and tapped his fingers on the desk in annoyance. "Stop...snoring...or....die."
Chou pursed his lips and rolled his eyes in response. The Boss was ending everything with "Or die" today. Who knew why. Oh, that's right, his wife's sister had moved in with them this week. Chou suppressed a chuckle. No wonder the Boss was looking for any excuse to take a trip. Between his wife, her sister, their adopted son Eiji, and his two sons, he probably never got a lick of peace at home.
"Think there's such a thing as a city bein' too peaceful, Boss?"
Ash. Inhale. Exhale. "Ahou. That just means the criminal elements are planning something."
"Yeah, but..."
A knock on the office door prevented any further protest. Scuttling in after Saitou's grunt of admittance, a haggard looking officer saluted and began his report.
"Three weeks ago, there were some murders south of Tokyo, sir. All of them along roads heading northeast towards Narita. Witnesses say that the assailant identified himself as Tenken no Soujirou, and that his build and features coincide with the description you provided."
Saitou Hajime's cigarette, pressed between his lips, dropped a centimeter. Slowly, he plucked the cigarette from his mouth and turned to look out the nearby window.
"Proceed with your report. I want every detail."
Chou crooked an elbow into his knee and leaned a cheek against his hand. So, the kid was on a murder spree, eh? What a nuisance. And now the Boss would want to track the boy down and capture him.
Might as well try to descend into hell and arrest Shishio Makoto.
Might as well attempt to convince Himura Kenshin to feast on the blood of babies.
Might as well coax Yukishiro Enishi into calling his sister a plague-ridden whore.
Capture Tenken no Soujiro?
Riiiiiiight.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
***In Our Next Chapters: Tsk, tsk, Soujirou, have you been on a killing spree? Will Okita get shot? And, if he doesn't, will the brothers find out what happened to their mother? Will Soujirou ever tell Okita about his past? What's with this one-armed Hijikata Nobue and the aforementioned Jadokubatsu? The answers to these questions and more in the next chapters of Sen Akoyagai.
***Author Notes:
I'm changing the title of this story to "San Akoyagai". Apparently, the Japanese glossary I was using used the rather uncommon romanji "sen". Oh well, I hope it won't confuse anyone.
Well, not a lot of action in this chapter. Had to introduce the antagonists, though. Well, some of the antagonists, anyway. There will be some Action and swordfighting in this story, but other plot arcs will focus more on the psychological aspects of the two...soon three...main characters. (It is -Three- Pearl Oysters, after all.) No, the third character has not been mentioned yet.
There may eventually be some light romance in the story, but that won't happen until -far- down the line.
For this story, yes, Soujirou is 17, about to turn 18. I've looked on many websites and have seen him listed everywhere from 16 to early twenties. Souji should be around Saitou's age, but I've made him a few years younger. (I think this jives with the OVAs, where he looks younger than Saitou by a bit. But, he's still older than Kenshin.)
There will be a few original characters in this story, but I will try to make sure they are interesting and don't obscure the our beloved canon characters.
Hijikata, according to one website I read, was the youngest of 6 siblings. I made the name for his sister up, though, as I was not able to find a list of their names. According to another website, Tokio had a younger sister named Tami, and a younger brother Seinosuke. If you begin to see a theme here, there is one. I am often very interested in sibling relationships, and I don't find that there are enough stories that write about them in a realistic manner.
This chapter was also largely to show the brothers getting more comfortable being around one another, and to set up some themes for further chapters.
If anyone didn't notice, much of Okita's personality and physical appearance for this story has been taken from Peacemaker Kurogane. (Not the grumpy part. Just the glimpses into the -real- Okita.)
***Glossary Notes:
Gin: Silver
Hebi: Snake
Jadoku: Snake poison. (Dearest readers of my other stories, I didn't use the Hachinisasareru again, just to be unconfusing.)
Aniki: Older brother, of course. I suppose Okita should call Soujirou "ototo", but he prefers to just call him Soujirou.
***Review Notes:
It seems that some of the review notes from the last chapter were accidentally cut off. My apologies!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It may be a while before I get the next chapter up, as I should probably update some of my other stories, and I am working diligently on my novel. :D :D Anyway, thanks again to all readers for taking the chance on this story about two lesser characters from RK. I know that every story, every chapter, you read and review is a chunk out of your time and has a chance of completely disappointing you. :(
Wolf Of Mibu: I've decided not to post an epilogue to H&T. I still need to post the appendix, however. *rubs head* I think I may have forgotten all the stuff I wanted to put in the appendix. Argh.
Lizzy44: Much more torment for the brothers to come!
Youkai Girl: I -adore- Okita. Soujirou confuses me sometimes, though. He's pretty hard to write, mainly because he is so single-minded.
Trupana: A couple of different people suspected that Okita was going to be his father. But, I think this is more fun. Anyway, Watsuki-sensei based the character of Seta Soujirou loosely off of Okita in some ways. (Well, he says he did, anyway.) The funny thing about Okita and Soujirou are that they both have inconsistent hair colors in the anime! Sometimes black, sometimes brown. Guess the animators couldn't make up their minds. You've hit the nail on the head about why the mother named two sons the same. I guess she keeps trying to replace the things she lost with new ones. I'm sorry I haven't read Icicle Lovin' yet, but it is on my favorite stories list now, so I should get to it next time I run through unread fics. :D
lone_wolf_236: Bunbu was supposed to be very -Yoda-. In a way, I guess, Soujirou and Okita reminds me of Obi Wan and Luke. (Except Okita isn't -that- old.) Anyway, I know, I guess I have a -problem- wanting to give Okita some family. I very much enjoyed writing the Seichii/Souji bits in H&T and thought this would be a way to somewhat capture that, but at the same time explore Soujirou. :D
MissBehavin: It might be a while before Saitou and Okita finally meet up. But, they definitely will. Chuckle. I think I may be running out of ways to resurrect Okita, but I used the best one I had. :D Thanks for reading!
Shimizu Hitomi: Thanks for the links. Sorry if I fudged Soujirou's age a bit. :D Anyway, it probably would have been easier for Okita to commit seppuku. I can think of two reasons why he would not. 1) Seppuku requires a great deal of strength, which he didn't really have at that point. 2) Seppuku would be an honorable way to die, and Okita did not, at that point, think himself worthy of such honor after failing his friends. Well, I'm just grasping at straws, because I have to admit, I didn't think about it while writing.
SachiAmi: I think ol' Okita may be slowly becoming less grouchy. Soujirou is definitely distracting him from brooding about how much his life sucks, anyway. :D
Ron Weasley: Thanks for reading! Glad you are enjoying the story!
Ebony-Glass: Oh, you have not seen insanity yet. Just wait a few chapters until Shishio shows up. Cackle!
Veleda: Yeah. I'm big on brothers. Maybe I've always wanted one of my own. :D And I think you are right about Yumi. She was strong in many ways. I mean, who else could SMILE after being stabbed?
Wistful-Eyes: Yeah. Soujirou has to work a bit on his social skills. Can you imagine never being hugged in your life? How awful for the boy.
Master of Time and Space: Did you get my reviews for your story? The Soujirou in WalMart thing still cracks me up every time I think about it.
Lord Cirenmas: Thanks for reading. :D
Eeevee: So many "E"s in your name. Chuckle. I always pictured Soujirou as being a bit "slow" sometimes, but I think he is quicker (mentally) than he likes to admit to himself and others. He's one of those people who could be smart, maybe, if someone showed him how to do it. He just -agonizes- over thinking about things too much. He really does need a hobby, eh?
Sailor-Earth13: Thanks for reading. It should be an amusing adventure, I hope. :D
ooka-chan: I made up the poem. Took me quite a while, as I am not a very adept poet. I wish I could figure out how to make ff.net display poetry in the middle of a story correctly. Well, I'm glad you liked it. :D
ChiisaiLammy: No problem. Personally, I'm always amazed by everyone's reviews. Mine, especially for stories I really like, are always so short. I think to myself, "Well, that was just perfect. What else could I say about it?" Anyway, I am working to try and make the pair more dynamic. It should become more interesting when the third main character enters the scene. I'm glad you like my descriptions. I always thought they were probably the worst part of any story I write. I wish I were a talented artist, like you, then I could draw a picture and say: "Here is what I was describing, it might make more sense to -see- it." Chuckle.
RK-LuVa: Up with the Okita and Soujirou fanclub, eh? Those boys, they so rock. :D There may be some light romance towards the middle/end, but nothing distracting, I hope.
Pixie Ayanami: Yeah, Saitou showing up and seeing the brothers will be one of the -big- scenes, I think, but it may not happen for a few chapters yet. Hehehehe. What -will- happen? Ooooo.
Nigihayami Haruko: I hope this explains the ages and the past, a bit. They should uncover more -if- they make it to the boat. Chuckle. Thanks so much for reading!
Gemini1: I -finally- got to see episodes 15 and 16. Might I say that the OKita clone is so... Ack. *shudder* But, hmmmm...Hijikata and the potato. *cracking up* Anyway, there are three things which can explain any stupid and quasi-magical plot, I've found. Eastern Medicine and Magic, Nuclear Radiation, and Aliens. Hm. Has anyone written a story where Kenshin gets abducted by aliens yet? Imagine Scully and Mulder in Meiji Japan. Hmmmmmmmmm.
pu: Thanks for reading!!!
Chapter Three: Siblings and Snakes
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tsurayaki gripped the end of the wood-framed spyglass and turned, attempting to get a better view of the two men on the beach. The hard rock against his stomach was beginning to irritate him, but not quite as much as Yuki's singing.
"In the trees, with bumblebees, crows and owls, crows and owls are waiting. Gobble you up, gobble you up, gobble you up, little girl..."
Pressing his lips together, Tsurayaki watched Kenki Sou grab the younger man and press him to his chest. Ugh. Was Kenki -that- way? Who would have known? Well, it did make a bit of sense. After all, he was very anti-social, and -those- sorts of people probably wanted to hide any perverseness...
"Tsura-ni, whatcha lookin' at?"
Tsura glanced away from the glass towards the young woman laying on her back by his side. Almost sixteen now, and she still wore her hair in pigtails. Her green yukata lay open past her bent knees, exposing way more flesh than decent. Yuki held her colorful paper pinwheel up, giving the spinning kaleidoscope a backdrop of blue sky.
Her face seemed so innocent. But, then, she was innocent. She didn't know anything. Her mind was far too simple to understand the evils of the world. She was a little girl trapped in the body of a young woman.
She'd always been this way, as long as he could remember. Just a smidgen slower than everyone else. Just a bit too eager to believe anything she was told. Unable to remember anything bad, anything her childlike mind didn't want to believe.
Unable to remember much of anything...
But somehow, she always remembered him.
"I'm just watching the beach, Yuki-chan." Yuki wouldn't understand, even if he spent all day explaining it to her. "What are you doing?"
Keeping Yuki talking was the best way to keep her occupied. "I'm singing to the sky. It must get lonely to be so high. Rain is pain, a sad cloud having a cry..." Yuki began to hum quietly, continuing her tune from earlier.
"I see," Tsura replied, returning to his task. He didn't need Yuki to make any sense. She often never did, anyway.
From the bluff where he lay on his stomach, Tsurayaki could barely make out the two figures without the aid of his spyglass. Modern technology was quite a marvelous thing. Using only simple polished glass and wood, he could magnify the distant image. Now, if only he could read lips...
"Tsura-ni?"
"Aa?" Tsurayaki collapsed his spyglass with a click. He wouldn't learn anything more about Kenki Sou today. The hermit and his visitor were returning to the hut. He'd just have to wait. Maybe the smiling boy would leave after a day or two. That would definitely make things easier.
"Do you think it hurts when people get shot?"
Tsurayaki sat up and attempted to correct his sister's yukata, pulling the fabric back over her knees. "Yes, it does. But, you only shoot bad people, right? Bad people who have hurt other good people. So, it is only right for them to get hurt too, isn't it?"
Catching the edge of her spinning pinwheel, Yuki poked her finger into the folded paper and drew a small circle, attempting to make the toy spin in the direction opposite of the wind. "But, how do I know that the people I shoot are bad?"
Tsurayaki grinned softly. So simple. She was so incredibly simple. "Because I tell you they are, and big brother would never lie to you, right?"
"Never?"
"Never ever. Promise."
Yuki leapt up and threw her arms around Tsurayaki's neck. Her rightmost pigtail bounced up and tickled his chin as she hugged him tightly. "You're the best, Tsura-ni. I love you so much. I'd be so sad if you weren't here."
"I know, Yuki-chan, I know." He rubbed her back gently, waiting to be released. But, she only pulled him tighter, crushing her forgotten paper pinwheel between their chests.
She'd make another one. Her little section of their dingy one-room shack was already littered with and pinwheels of every size...
All of them riddled with bullet holes from target practice.
So simple.
And so very, very deadly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A brother.
Soujirou didn't quite know what to think about that.
Most people spoke of family as if it were something great, something to be cherished and adored for your entire life. He'd heard whispers of how your family was supposed to care for you, nourish you, help you to grow. Love you...unconditionally? But, Soujirou had always passed off those notions as fairy tales. Nice stories that people like Anji-san told, but holding no truths, no relevance to the real world.
Family meant 'abandonment', 'fear', 'cruelty'. It meant being stuck with these things, and escaping them only by handing over your soul.
Could he...
Would he...
Kill Okita-san, too?
Soujirou watched as the older man stirred the oyster stew he'd been making. Okita-san looked like he might be lost in thought, too. The warmth of the fire had dried the man's hair into a stringy mess which twisted around his shoulders and back like dead vines. No, not 'Okita-san'. His brother. His brother who could swim very well, and was very grumpy, and called out the name of Himura Battousai in his sleep. His brother...
His brother was interesting.
"Ano...uhhh..." Soujirou winced mildly at his own voice. What should he call Okita? 'Okita-san' didn't seem right, but he didn't really know if it would be polite yet to call him anything else. Well, might as well try and see what sort of reaction he got. "Souji?"
"Hm?"
"You're practically ancient."
Okita looked up from his cooking and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. "I'm not -that- old. I'm only thirty-two."
"Yeah," Soujirou replied, "Old."
Okita harrumphed as he returned to cooking, ropes of hair falling in his face. "Have you considered the possibility that I'm not old, and instead, you're just merely a child?"
"A child? But, I'll be eighteen in two weeks. I've fought..." Soujirou stopped himself. What a ridiculous thing to say. Why should he care if Okita thought of him as a kid? It made no difference at all. None. "Eh, maybe you're right," Soujirou cooed, as cheerful as possible despite the conflicts in his mind.
Okita stared at the stew, watching as the broth turned golden brown. Eighteen? He'd been that age during the Ikeda-ya incident. He'd killed untold numbers of men by that time. How many? How many boys and men? It had to be done, but... Okita still wished he knew their names. He wished he could remember when their brothers and sons came for revenge. So that he could at least tell them with some modicum of truth, that he remembered how honorably they had died.
"Here," Okita said, handing Soujirou a steaming bowl of pungent soup. "It's hot."
Soujirou wondered why Okita had bothered to point out that the soup was hot. Of course it would be. It just came off the fire.
Settling himself across from his younger brother, Okita picked out a chunk of oyster and popped it into his mouth. They tasted so good like this. Just like the first time Bunbu had cooked the soup for him. Bunbu had taken him in and showed him everything, how to care for the oysters. How to cook for himself. How to repair the nets, the traps. How to dive and...maybe even how to live with regret and sorrow as deep as the ocean.
This kid. Okita still knew nothing about him. He'd said that his master had died, but...what kind of life did he lead before wandering? What would make a kid smile like that, even when in pain? Okita watched as Soujirou picked up a piece of oyster, inspected it, and then nibbled off the end.
Okita decided his brother was...very interesting. And he needed to know more about him. And he needed to know more about their mother. "She was very young when she was married to my father."
Soujirou looked up from his soup. "Huh?"
"Mother. She was only fifteen. As the third daughter of her family, they wanted to marry her off to whomever they could. So, when father's family offered, they accepted. He was a very low rank samurai, and her family was of slightly higher rank, but fading fast. I was born the next year. Life in our little village was slow, and very calm, mostly. But, father died when I was eight. There was a terrible storm, and he was trying to pen up the chickens. Part of the barn roof blew off and crushed him."
Soujirou didn't know quite what to say about that. Okita seemed genuinely sad to be talking about his deceased father. "I'm...sorry."
"Yes. Well, I suppose..." Okita returned to poking at his food, "Mother did as well as she could for some months, but it was obvious that things weren't going well. When Kondo-san saw me practicing kata in the yard one morning, he asked my mother if he could take me to his dojo for some testing. I guess he liked what he found, because he told my mother that he wanted to train me. For free. So, mother put me into Kondo-san's hands, and sold our house. She moved to Kyoto to live with relatives. We wrote often, but then...one day...her letters stopped coming."
Okita had stopped eating by now, and sat with his head turned towards the open door, gazing forlornly at the sea beyond.
"Hijikata-san had contacts in Kyoto. He sent them to investigate and found that neighbors said the entire family died of cholera. But, I suppose...she didn't die after all..."
Soujirou knew the rest of the story already. He felt something pull within his throat, as he puzzled at the way to relate the tragic events that had befallen their mother after that time. He had really only known her through the words of his uncles and aunts. Words like 'filthy' and 'low' and most of all 'whore'. He'd been so young when she'd given him away. He really couldn't remember much more about her.
"She..." Soujirou nudged his food fruitlessly, chasing one cooked oyster around the bowl with the end of his chopsticks. "I guess she didn't have anyone else, so she went to the places where fallen and lonesome women tend to go. My father was from an up-and-coming rice merchant family. He was her patron. They were lovers, and maybe in love. I don't know. I used to like to think that there was some reason why..."
Why she didn't drink the poison that could rid a woman of an unwanted child. She certainly must have had access to it. There was probably another reason, Soujirou thought. But, just sometimes, he liked to think that once, perhaps for a very short while, he might have been cherished. A foolish thought. Irrelevant. Who needed them? He could take care of himself. He always, always, had.
"I only lived with her for the very first few years of my life. Then, one day, a man came for me. My father. I didn't know him, but mother said that I should go with him. He would, she said, provide me with a much better life than she ever could. I always supposed that they wanted to be married, but that my father's family wouldn't allow it. He seemed to be a kind man, at least. I enjoyed the few months we had before he..."
Okita turned and watched as his brother related the tale. Soujirou's eyes...his eyes, at least, contained a modicum of sadness for once, darkening as his bangs fell in his face. But, his ki remained guarded. No, it was even -more- guarded. An impenetrable wall of blank steel. Cold and repellant.
'Something happened to this boy,' Okita thought, 'Not just troubles of a normal life. Something evil pulled out his beating heart and crushed it underfoot. That smile... That smile is a battle scar.'
"He died while traveling to a distant warehouse. There were bandits. I ran away several times when I grew older in an attempt to return to my mother. I finally found the house where she had lived with the other women. But, they told me that she was gone. Disappeared one night, they said. Only the old madame, Kiyato, knew what happened, supposedly. Unfortunately, Kiyato had retired to somewhere in southern Okinawa."
Okita leaned forward suddenly, causing the bowl by his knees to wobble as he brushed against it. "You mean you don't know what happened to her for certain?"
"No," Soujirou replied, "Shi...my shishou took me away from my father's house after..." Soujirou's left eyebrow twitched so lightly, Okita almost didn't notice it. "...after they all died. After my other relatives died."
"And you haven't looked for her since then?"
"No."
Anger flashed across Okita's face, concentrating fiercely at his brows, "Why -not-?"
"Why would I?" Soujirou closed his eyes. Okita had to strain to perceive the sharp edge in his voice as he continued. "She gave me away. Women are, by nature, weak. But she didn't even have the strength to care for one son. No. Two sons, it seems now. Why would I want to be associated with her? She's nothing important to me, because I was nothing important to her. She had no courage, no faith in herself. She is despicable, and not just because she was a whore..."
"You..." Okita darted forward, lunging towards Soujirou with incredible speed. Both bowls of stew flew into the air as Okita's hand swung towards Soujirou's face. The younger of the pair dodged at the last second, his eyes wide. Soujirou leaned forward once again, and Okita found a very sharp chopstick pointed right at his chin.
It was just a chopstick, but with enough force, Soujirou could ram it through the soft spot below Okita's jaw and cause a serious injury.
"Please don't..." Soujirou said quietly, his shoulders trembling slightly as he forced himself to lower the utensil, "Please don't ever move to strike me, aniki. You'll end up hurt."
Okita fell back onto his haunches, his eyes shaded by tangles of hair. Fisted hands relaxing, Okita's fingers spread over the tatami as he exhaled every inch of breath stored in his lungs. "Soujirou." Okita bit his own tongue in an attempt to force it to divulge more words. They came out mournful and whispered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. Please forgive me."
"No," Soujirou replied, "I..." The smiling youth put his makeshift weapon down on the ground. Okita-san was asking him to...-forgive-. Why? Had his older brother done anything wrong? Soujirou wasn't certain. How dreadfully confusing everything was, all of a sudden. It would be so nice, right now, to be back at Mt. Hiei by Shishio-san's side. Shishio-san would at least have some idea of how one was supposed to interact with one's long lost brother. Why was Okita-san being so strange now? Perhaps he was upset because he had lost in the skirmish. That seemed reasonable. Losing could put anyone in a foul temper.
"You called me 'Aniki'," Okita whispered, reaching up to push his hair out of his face.
"I...did?"
Straightening his back, Okita nodded curtly. He didn't look angry now, Soujirou noted. Just forlorn. "Would you call me that, Soujirou? From now on?"
"Ano...uh...if you'd like."
Okita grunted his approval and stood to find a rag to clean up the spilled stew. "You move quickly, even as injured as you are. You must have had a formidable shishou."
"Yes," Soujirou replied, picking up chunks of spilled dinner and putting them into his bowl. "He was very strong."
"Did you kill him?"
Soujirou's head shot up, his face incredulous and wide-eyed. "What? Huh? No. Of course not. Why would you think..."
"Nevermind, Soujirou, nevermind. Now. Lets try to have dinner together, again. And this time, remember, a chopstick is for eating. Not for killing your aniki, eh?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The darkness of the hut irritated Soujirou like a thick blanket in summertime. He couldn't sleep. And, indeed, it seemed that Okita wasn't faring much better in the endeavor.
His brother's hands balled into fists as he flopped around on his futon like a fish out of water. Okita's blanket had already been tossed into some dark corner, leaving the agonizing man's chest visible to the room's other occupant. Soujirou watched as his brother's muscles reacted to some dream, some passing nightmare, and listened as troubled words spilled from Okita's lips.
He was, quite definitely, a different man altogether when he slept.
"I smell it, too. Blood. He's near, Saitou-san." Okita's face turned quickly to the side. "You men go north. Meet up with squad ten. Alert them..."
Soujirou pulled on his own covers, hiding all of his face except for his eyes. This seemed almost -forbidden-, spying on a man in his sleep. He'd spied on a lot of people before, but never someone...he didn't intend to kill.
"Hijikata-san, Kondo-san...everyone...everyone... I'm so sorry. I should have...I should have..."
Was Okita sobbing? No. No, this was another sound. This was some sort of strange panting. Almost a whistle. The elder brother coughed lightly and flipped himself over onto his other side.
"Himura...Battousai. Battousai... At last."
Okita became still, his hands relaxing, his sudden strangled breathing returning to normal.
"Now I can die, with honor."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Soujirou sat in the doorframe of the seaside hut, scrubbing at Okita's old dinnerware with a thick-bristled brush. Today, apparently, was not a day for checking the oyster traps. Instead, Okita had been spending the morning chopping wood.
Thunk. Shwip. Plunk-plunk. Thunk. Shwip. Plunk-plunk.
Okita cut through the wood like paper, even with his small dull axe. The wind coming off the sea kept them both cool, a refreshing change from the summer which had assaulted Soujirou during his travels.
These old pots. They looked like they predated the formation of the Shogunate. Thick black iron, often bearing writing in some language Soujirou couldn't read. Yet, at least cleaning them was better than laying in bed.
To Soujirou, it seemed like there was always something to do at Okita's house. Cleaning, mending, cooking, repairing. Not to mention Okita's actual -work- with the oysters. When he'd been with Shishio-san, Soujirou had endured a great deal of boredom. Besides actual assignments, he hadn't had much to do besides practice his sword skills. Occasionally, Yumi-san would attempt to teach him something, take him to the theater, or engage him in a game of shogi. But, he never felt exactly at ease with these things. Mostly, he just endured them for Yumi-san's sake.
Okita had been pensive all morning, saying even less than usual, and then only in grunts. Soujirou was beginning to become inured to his brother's perpetual foul mood. He didn't seem angry so much as... Well, it was as if a stormy rain cloud had settled over his brother's mind, and just wouldn't lift. But then sometimes, just rarely, like last night, Soujirou could part the cloud and get a glimpse of the man underneath.
Dunking a pot into the large wooden basin of water, Soujirou saw his own face smiling back at him. Well. It wasn't gone yet. Maybe his smile would outlast Himura's crossed scars. Who knew? His hair had grown quite shaggy. If he stayed here, maybe it would grow as long as Souji's. But could he stay? He hadn't really asked his brother about that, yet. To stay here a while would be nice. Yes. Maybe not forever, but at least long enough to get to know his brother. Himura wouldn't fault him for halting his journey long enough for that, would he?
Soujirou's thoughts caused him not to notice that Okita had stopped chopping the wood and that the older man was now standing, axe in hand, watching Soujirou peer at himself in the water..
"What are you doing?"
Soujirou lifted his head slowly, not a whit embarrassed to be caught gazing at his own reflection. "I was thinking about this place. It's calming. I'd like to stay here with you, aniki. For a while, anyway."
Okita dropped the axe. It landed with a thud, blade down in the wood. He'd been thinking about it, as well. Now that he had a brother, now that things were different... Soujirou could definitely protect himself, even if people did come seeking revenge. But, something else had been plaguing Okita's mind. Their mother. She could be somewhere out there, right now, mourning for the two sons she was forced to give away. Waiting to be rescued from her own hellish guilt.
But, trying to find her would mean he'd have to leave here. Leave this comfortable haven. Just from his biannual trips to the nearby town, he already knew that the world had changed since he'd left it behind. And yet, allowing his fear of the outside to consume him would not appeal to his unrelenting idealism. To -not- go merely because the beach meant safety...would be cowardice. And cowardice went completely against the code of bushido.
"You can't stay here." Okita replied, bending to pick up blocks of wood and stack them beside the hut.
"Oh?" Soujirou pulled a soaking pot out of the tub, turning his reflection into a fragmented puzzle. "Oh. I see." Well, could he really blame Okita? After that interlude with the chopstick, Soujirou really couldn't fault his brother for wanting to get rid of him.
"I can't stay here either," Okita continued, "We have an obligation. An obligation as sons to find out where our mother is. If she is alive, we must put her mind at rest and let her know that we are fine. If she has passed on, we must learn her resting place and go to it. These are filial duties, and they can not be neglected by any swordsman."
"Duty?" That was a new one to Soujirou. A sword was for strength, as far as he knew. It had nothing to do with duty.
"Aa. Duty. Surely the concept is not foreign to you? A man has a duty to his family, to his ideals, and to his country. I've failed my country and my ideals, but if I will be damned before I fail my family."
Soujirou reflected on this as he dried the iron kettle. He'd helped Shishio-san rebel against their country, and failed. The ideals he'd held dear had proven fruitless in the light of Himura's Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. And his family...most of them had fallen to his wakizashi. But, now he had a brother. And, possibly, his mother might still be alive. Just maybe, if he could help Souji, then...in the end...he might not be such a failure after all.
But, he didn't really care if his mother was alive or dead. Why should he? She'd abandoned him, left him in the care of those monsters. Souji, on the other hand, could have left him to die on the beach, but didn't. Okita cared. Maybe he had a strange way of showing it, sure. But, right now, Okita Souji was the only person in the world who really, truly, seemed to care if Seta Soujirou continued to exist.
"I'll go with you, aniki."
"Good." Okita smirked as he wiped his hands on his pants. "We'll leave as soon as your ankle heals."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Okita hissed and turned his head quickly, which only caused the pain to become more pronounced. Soujirou blinked in return and waited until his older brother faced forward again to continue.
"Can't you be more gentle, Soujirou? I'm not going to have any hair left."
The younger brother yanked on the brush, attempting to defeat the frustrating tangles in his brother's black mane. "I could cut it off, aniki. That would be relatively painless."
"No." Definitely not. Okita hadn't cut his hair since he came to this place. In some cultures, he'd learned, leaving one's hair uncut was a sign of shame. He liked the thought. Men or women refusing to beautify themselves, or conform to society's rules of dress, until they could be redeemed. By their appearance, they set themselves apart as outcasts, as failures, until the day they had restored their honor. Quite poetic. But, as far as Okita knew, he'd die with his hair long. "No. It will not be cut."
"Then sit still." After Okita complied, Soujirou began again. His brother's hair slowly transformed itself from a sea salt crusted net into a ribbon of ebony satin. Of course, this had all been Soujirou's idea. They were going to go into town, and Souji didn't seem to understand that he looked like a frightening wildman. The whole town was afraid of him, if what Chihori-san said was true. And having people frightened of you, Soujirou had found, wasn't very conducive to getting anything done in a marketplace. If he had known the task of fixing his brother's hair was going to be this difficult, however, he might have just suggested a hat. Encountering yet another tangle, Soujirou shook his head. "When was the last time you brushed your hair?"
Okita shrugged.
"When was the last time that you took a bath? And I mean, not in the ocean?"
Okita shrugged again. "Waste of firewood."
"Your skin is coated in flakes of dried salt, aniki. I can see them." Okita had no response to this. The only thing, besides being unable to find any concrete answers, which annoyed Soujirou about life as a rurouni had to be the lack of baths. Hunger and bad weather he could endure. But bathing properly, well, he missed that a great deal. Shishio-san did certainly have a fine taste in bathing. They'd visited numerous hot springs. And they had wonderful baths at Mt. Hiei, stocked personally by Yumi-san with a variety of exotic scents. Bathing was lovely, especially when it diminished the smell of blood.
"You have to try to look less crazy, aniki. People are scared of you."
"All the better for them, I'd say."
"It will make it easier for us to travel," Soujirou explained, "If you look less wild, and far less suspicious."
"Mm. I suppose."
Soujirou finished brushing out his brother's hair and then tied it away from his face in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck with a piece of an old yukata sash he'd found. "There. Doesn't that feel better?"
Okita turned his head to look at his brother while at the same time reaching back to touch his hair. It felt so different now, so strangely light and soft. "Yes. That is alright."
"You look like a completely different person, now." Yes. Now that he'd convinced his brother to shed those old green pants in favor of a white yukata with dark grey waves painted at the hem, he looked almost -innocent- when he wasn't scowling. Before, Soujirou had thought the older man looked like what his nickname had suggested, a demon. A sea demon that might gnash its teeth at any passerby. But now, like this, he didn't resemble a demon at all. With his hair brushed and his muscled torso covered by the yukata, he looked...in fact...very gentle.
"Are you finished with me?"
"Yeah," Soujirou replied, using the walking stick Okita had given him in an attempt to stand. "We can go now. But, just to be on the safe side, maybe you should let me do the talking in town."
They left the little hut, and walked slowly up the beach due to Soujirou's hurt ankle. It had become much less problematic over the last few days. He could stand on it now, as long as he didn't turn it awkwardly or put pressure on it for too long. His head, too, had healed a great deal. Now he only kept one strip of folded gauze on it, tying his hair back like the bandana worn by that loud street-fighter which followed Himura around.
Soon, they left the beach in favor of a road into town. The branches of late summer's trees spread full and heavy over the path. Although they kept mostly in the shade, patches of sunlight would fall through and sprinkle their faces and clothing as they walked. Weeds and flowers alike grew unchecked by the roadside, inviting insects with their heady scent.
Traveling on a road was nice, Soujirou had long since decided. Much less difficult than making your way through dense woods with nothing but nature to guide your path. Roads were, of course, far more dangerous than the forest. Well, more dangerous if your name -wasn't- Tenken no Soujirou.
Both men wore swords at their hips. To not do so would have been a bad idea, they had agreed. Okita sported both his katana -and- his wakizashi, while Soujirou carried only a katana. He'd had no need for a wakizashi in a long time, and even carrying one tended to make him unnerved. Instead, he carried a concealed tanto for those emergency situations where one's katana might be out of reach.
The town itself was unremarkable. Small, mildly prosperous due to its proximity with both the sea and the city of Narita, and fairly quiet. Not sleepy, exactly, for other patrons of the markets, taverns, and inns could be found traveling the road, but not exactly bustling with rowdy shows of life either.
"You get our tickets at the harbormaster's office. I'll find supplies."
"Tickets?" Soujirou asked.
"We're not walking to Osaka. That would take us a week or more." Reaching into his sleeve, Okita brought out a small cloth bag. "Here. Boats from Yokohama stop by here occasionally to pick up fresh fish and extra passengers." Okita handed Soujirou two gold coins, causing the younger man to balk slightly. Who knew that Okita had any money at all? You certainly couldn't tell from the way he lived. "That should be enough with some left over. Buy whatever else you want. We'll meet back here in an hour."
"Ano...thanks," Soujirou mumbled. By the time he looked up, Okita had already left, crossing the market square towards a shaded shop front with a rich blue awning.
After a few quiet inquiries to passersby, Soujirou made his way to the harbormaster's office. Ticket prices turned out to be, in his estimation, quite fair. Strange, Soujirou had just assumed they would travel by foot to his hometown of Keita, on the route between Osaka and Kyoto. But, a boat would be much quicker, cutting the journey down to only a day or two.
'When you have somewhere definite to go,' Soujirou supposed, 'You take the most expedient route to get there.'
Soujirou took his change and headed back towards the marketplace. A few children played in the streets, rolling themselves about in awkward somersaults and botched cartwheels.
'Now, what else do I need to buy? I haven't had this much money in a while. I'm not quite sure what to do with it.'
Soujirou browsed carts and shops, not quite certain what to seek. He'd had to mend a couple holes in his clothes already, but nothing which would require them to be replaced. He had all his cleaning utensils for his katana. His shoes had been holding up fine.
As time drug on, Soujirou couldn't come to any decisions. Nothing caught his fancy. Beyond the clothes on his back, his blades, and a good pair of shoes, Soujirou hadn't ever really desired anything. So as not to disappoint his brother, Soujirou ended up buying a pair of paper fans. Fans were useful things, at least, good for combating the lingering summer heat.
He spotted his brother across the market, ducking into a brightly decorated shop, a thick bag of purchases hanging at his side. 'Well, might as well meet back up with aniki early.' Soujirou made his way towards the shop, using his walking stick as efficiently as possible to assist him to his destination.
Peering in the doorway, Soujirou was met with a most interesting sight. Okita Souji was squatting in front of a display, ogling the contents of multicolored paper boxes, gesturing quietly to the young attendant.
Boxes, it appeared, which contained bushels of candy. The smell of the sweet shop was overwhelmingly divine, an opinion which appeared to be shared by Okita who bent his face closer to a box and inhaled.
"Some of these, please," Okita said softly, his eyes shining with childlike greed. "These too."
"Yes, Kenki-san, yes," the woman replied, obliging the murmured requests. "My, you have such a sweet tooth."
Okita didn't reply to this comment. He merely pointed at another cache of candies.
"Those too, Kenki-san?"
Okita nodded and bit his bottom lip. He proceeded to stare at his feet just like a kid caught in the act of stealing sweets before dinner.
Before he could be spotted, Soujirou silently withdrew from the shop and made his way back to the middle of the square. Watching that whole exchange had been singularly bizarre. Was that even his brother? Couldn't have been. His brother was an irascible hermit who was still fighting the Revolution in his sleep. This person acted more like...well...like a lost little boy.
"Did you get the tickets?"
Soujirou spun around to find Okita standing next to him. His previous demeanor now gone, the older man appeared to be glaring hard at a pair of passersby who had ventured too close, invading his personal space.
"Aa. Tickets and these fans. For if we get hot."
Okita turned his head and peered at his brother, eyes narrowed. "That's all you bought?"
"Was I supposed to get something else? Here, I brought you back your change."
Okita took the money, albeit rather reluctantly, without taking his eyes off his brother. "Soujirou, don't you want anything?"
"Mmmm," the humming noise issuing from Soujirou's lips drew out into a long wavering note. "Nope. Can't think of anything I need."
"This doesn't have anything to do with what you need, kid. This has to do with what you want. You can buy things just because you like them, you know. Don't you have anything you like? Anything you enjoy?"
"I like not dying, aniki," Soujirou said, his voice peppered with the hope that such an answer would suffice.
One of Okita's thin dark eyebrows lifted. "Don't you have anything you like to do? I mean...besides things having to do with your sword or wandering around Japan?"
"Uhhhhh. Ano..."
"You need a hobby, Soujirou."
Soujirou laughed good-naturedly and nodded, "Perhaps so, perhaps so. I might should try my hand at poetry like you, eh, aniki?"
Okita sighed, mild exasperation apparent in his fallen shoulders. Sometimes his little brother could be creepy, it seemed. What sort of kid isn't interested in anything in the world? Was that all Soujirou had been doing? Floating around Japan aimlessly, without any ideals or dreams or passions to guide his way? How could a man live, without anything to look forward to? Just wanting to live, but having nothing for which -to- live, seemed so...so...
Desperately hopeless.
"I don't know that poetry would suit you, Soujirou. But, you could certainly try." Okita shook his head sadly and motioned towards a tavern across the way. "Lets go there. We can eat and you can rest your ankle."
Before he could take three steps in the direction of the dining establishment, Soujirou's head turned towards the west.
"Aniki..."
Okita, too, was stopped, peering in the same direction as his brother. "Aa. We're being watched. No. Scrutinized."
"Who do you think..."
"Too far away to tell. Probably just curious townspeople, though. Lets go inside."
On a rooftop, several buildings away, Tsurayaki pursed his lips. He adjusted his spyglass carefully, trying not to reflect the sunlight and give away his position.
"Tsura-ni, Tsura-ni, did you find the bad man?"
Ignoring his sister's question, Tsurayaki collapsed the telescopic lens and headed towards the side of the building where they'd stashed the ladder. "Come on, Yuki. We need to go figure out why they have boat tickets. We have to go to the harbor. You like the harbor, remember?"
"Lots to see, you and me. Boats are for going far. Guided by a distant star." Yuki trailed behind her brother, looking around in utter confusion. What were they just talking about? She couldn't remember. They must be going somewhere. Best just to follow Tsura-ni. Try to keep up. Yes, she must try to keep up with her brother.
Tsura-ni knew everything there was to know about the world, Yuki supposed. And if he didn't know, then he knew how to find out. He was seven years older than her. -Seven-. She could always remember that. That's how many bullets she had before reloading. Two in the right pistol, two in the left, two in the one which she hid at her back, and one bullet in the emergency gun strapped to her leg. Seven.
Of course, Tsura-ni didn't need guns. He was the best fighter in all of Japan. Probably the whole world. No one had ever beaten him, anyway. So, as far as Yuki could tell, that made him the best. He used to work somewhere, didn't he? Somewhere where he lifted heavy things all day, and because of it, he had grown very strong. Yuki thought that might be right. It might be.
Yuki looked up at the sky, watching as a bird passed overhead. She shaped her hand into an "L" and pointed up at the flying creature. Moving her thumb forward, she whispered, "Pow. Gotcha."
"Come on, Yuki."
"Where are we going, Tsura-ni?"
"To the harbor," Tsurayaki replied. She'd forgotten already?
"Have I ever been there before?"
Tsurayaki tried not to sigh. She always got worse during this time of year. By the time fall was in full bloom, he'd be hard pressed to keep her from forgetting her own name. "Yes, imoto. We live there, remember?"
"Oh." Yuki replied cheerfully, climbing down the ladder after her brother, "Right."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Hijikata-sama! Hijikata-sama!"
A white-sleeved hand holding a cigarette raised up to halt the noisy speaker. Curls of smoke drifted through the air, tobacco mixed with incense, casting the already cave-like room into a haze.
"I didn't know your kind could cause such a racket."
A black-clad figure slid into the room, kneeling respectfully in apology. "The news will please you."
"Will it?"
"In return for passage to China, a certain Yukishiro Enishi gave us quite interesting information."
"Yukishiro...Yukishiro..." A line of ash fell to the floor. "I'm not familiar with the name."
"Ah, he's not important. We did learn from him, however, that Saitou Hajime is still alive. Alive and in quite admirable health."
This provoked a response from the usually stoic figure sitting in meditation. A head tilt. "So ka? Saitou Hajime, hm? He was formidable."
"Takani Megumi, as well."
Silence permeated the air. The crouching figure in black leaned forward slightly, as if to catch any whispered words or slight gestures.
"Takani Megumi? The young daughter of Takani? I remember her. She was quite winsome."
"Hijikata-sama, shall I go to discern..."
"No." The smoking figure replied curtly, "You've done well Gin-hebi. Go and assemble the Jadokubatsu. I will go, myself, to investigate this information."
"Yes, Hijikata-sama." With these words, the crouched figure faded completely into the shadows, and disappeared.
The figure dressed in white turned to look at the smoke slowly rising from the incense burner. Smoldering just like that time... No one should be expected to live with those images seared into their mind. No one.
"Now they will pay," came Hijikata Nobue's whisper, "Pay for what you took from me in so many battles. And above all, you will pay for Aizu."
The rail-thin woman stood and raised one arm to twist her long hair up into a loose pile.
One arm...
The only arm she possessed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"It's all arranged then? She knows what to do? You trust her?"
Soujirou nodded and tied his traveling pack down more tightly. "Don't worry, aniki, Chihori-san will do a fine job looking after your house. She's trustworthy, and even if she wasn't, I don't think she'd chance you coming back to find something amiss. Like I said, the entire village is afraid of you."
Okita continued to scowl as he wrapped their swords in a piece of linen and tied them off with rope so they wouldn't rattle. They certainly couldn't wear them on the boat. Instead, Okita decided to take an old bokken Bunbu had bought him some years back. And Soujirou had that tanto he didn't think Okita knew about.
"You should get a wakizashi, Soujirou."
"Oh? Don't need one, really."
"Could be useful someday, you never know."
"Hm." Soujirou sounded cheerfully in response. Okita had learned it was a noise that meant that his brother wasn't going to deride the proposal vocally, but that he wasn't going to consider it, either.
The younger man watched Okita out of the corner of his eye, laughing silently as his brother slipped a sack of candy into his traveling bag.
"Your ankle?"
Soujirou's head turned quickly back to his own packing as Okita looked up from his clandestine squirreling away of sweets. "It's fine."
Okita smirked as he grunted in approval. Soujirou wouldn't tell him if it -was- hurting, so asking amounted to nothing. Still, the kid walked on it properly now, if a bit slowly. It would be fine. They were taking a boat, after all. And the journey from Osaka to Keita didn't amount to much...
Soujirou suddenly became still. He ceased tying the strings on his pack and looked over his shoulder towards the door.
"Aniki..."
"Aa?" Okita looked from Soujirou, across the floor, towards the open shoji. A tremor ran up his spine as he realized the beach had acquired a trespasser. The newcomer's ki flooded the small hut like a tsunami driven landwards from the sea beyond. Looking down at the wrapped swords in his hands, Okita sighed lightly. He wasn't really prepared to kill anyone today. In fact, he hadn't thought much about his life's curse all week. "I see. How ill-timed. Stay here, Soujirou. I'll chase him off." '
'Or kill them and dump them in the ocean,' Okita added mentally, as a mournful tide of guilt washed over his thoughts, 'Depending on how persistent they decide to be.'
Soujirou said nothing, he merely let his eyes follow Souji to the door. Then he put down his travel pack and picked up the walking stick he had been using.
'Silly Aniki,' Soujirou thought as he stepped into the afternoon sunlight, 'You must really be out of practice if you didn't sense that there are two trespassers. However did you survive those terrible wars?'
On the beach, a muscle-bound man a few years Soujirou's senior stood, his arms crossed. He held no weapons, but he didn't exactly look like he was on a peace mission, either. His blue-black hair rippled over his shoulders, catching on the thick wool of his homespun gi.
"Kenki Sou," Tsurayaki declared, watching his opponent approach, "I've come for what is mine."
"Is that so?" Souji replied evenly as his hand fell on the hilt of his bokken, "And what would that be?"
Tsurayaki snorted and rolled his eyes. "This land, you fool. The land and the pearls. Tell me where they are, and I will let you die swiftly."
Back by the hut, Soujirou pressed his fingers to his temple as his smile slipped a few millimeters. He gazed up the beach until he saw a tiny spot of pink blow out from behind a large boulder.
"Oh Souji," Soujirou muttered, "You're going to get yourself shot."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Chou!"
The odd looking man from Kansai opened one eye and looked up at his employer. From where Chou had been napping in the corner of the office, he could only see Saitou's upper shoulders and head. The lanky man blew smoke out of his nose and tapped his fingers on the desk in annoyance. "Stop...snoring...or....die."
Chou pursed his lips and rolled his eyes in response. The Boss was ending everything with "Or die" today. Who knew why. Oh, that's right, his wife's sister had moved in with them this week. Chou suppressed a chuckle. No wonder the Boss was looking for any excuse to take a trip. Between his wife, her sister, their adopted son Eiji, and his two sons, he probably never got a lick of peace at home.
"Think there's such a thing as a city bein' too peaceful, Boss?"
Ash. Inhale. Exhale. "Ahou. That just means the criminal elements are planning something."
"Yeah, but..."
A knock on the office door prevented any further protest. Scuttling in after Saitou's grunt of admittance, a haggard looking officer saluted and began his report.
"Three weeks ago, there were some murders south of Tokyo, sir. All of them along roads heading northeast towards Narita. Witnesses say that the assailant identified himself as Tenken no Soujirou, and that his build and features coincide with the description you provided."
Saitou Hajime's cigarette, pressed between his lips, dropped a centimeter. Slowly, he plucked the cigarette from his mouth and turned to look out the nearby window.
"Proceed with your report. I want every detail."
Chou crooked an elbow into his knee and leaned a cheek against his hand. So, the kid was on a murder spree, eh? What a nuisance. And now the Boss would want to track the boy down and capture him.
Might as well try to descend into hell and arrest Shishio Makoto.
Might as well attempt to convince Himura Kenshin to feast on the blood of babies.
Might as well coax Yukishiro Enishi into calling his sister a plague-ridden whore.
Capture Tenken no Soujiro?
Riiiiiiight.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
***In Our Next Chapters: Tsk, tsk, Soujirou, have you been on a killing spree? Will Okita get shot? And, if he doesn't, will the brothers find out what happened to their mother? Will Soujirou ever tell Okita about his past? What's with this one-armed Hijikata Nobue and the aforementioned Jadokubatsu? The answers to these questions and more in the next chapters of Sen Akoyagai.
***Author Notes:
I'm changing the title of this story to "San Akoyagai". Apparently, the Japanese glossary I was using used the rather uncommon romanji "sen". Oh well, I hope it won't confuse anyone.
Well, not a lot of action in this chapter. Had to introduce the antagonists, though. Well, some of the antagonists, anyway. There will be some Action and swordfighting in this story, but other plot arcs will focus more on the psychological aspects of the two...soon three...main characters. (It is -Three- Pearl Oysters, after all.) No, the third character has not been mentioned yet.
There may eventually be some light romance in the story, but that won't happen until -far- down the line.
For this story, yes, Soujirou is 17, about to turn 18. I've looked on many websites and have seen him listed everywhere from 16 to early twenties. Souji should be around Saitou's age, but I've made him a few years younger. (I think this jives with the OVAs, where he looks younger than Saitou by a bit. But, he's still older than Kenshin.)
There will be a few original characters in this story, but I will try to make sure they are interesting and don't obscure the our beloved canon characters.
Hijikata, according to one website I read, was the youngest of 6 siblings. I made the name for his sister up, though, as I was not able to find a list of their names. According to another website, Tokio had a younger sister named Tami, and a younger brother Seinosuke. If you begin to see a theme here, there is one. I am often very interested in sibling relationships, and I don't find that there are enough stories that write about them in a realistic manner.
This chapter was also largely to show the brothers getting more comfortable being around one another, and to set up some themes for further chapters.
If anyone didn't notice, much of Okita's personality and physical appearance for this story has been taken from Peacemaker Kurogane. (Not the grumpy part. Just the glimpses into the -real- Okita.)
***Glossary Notes:
Gin: Silver
Hebi: Snake
Jadoku: Snake poison. (Dearest readers of my other stories, I didn't use the Hachinisasareru again, just to be unconfusing.)
Aniki: Older brother, of course. I suppose Okita should call Soujirou "ototo", but he prefers to just call him Soujirou.
***Review Notes:
It seems that some of the review notes from the last chapter were accidentally cut off. My apologies!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It may be a while before I get the next chapter up, as I should probably update some of my other stories, and I am working diligently on my novel. :D :D Anyway, thanks again to all readers for taking the chance on this story about two lesser characters from RK. I know that every story, every chapter, you read and review is a chunk out of your time and has a chance of completely disappointing you. :(
Wolf Of Mibu: I've decided not to post an epilogue to H&T. I still need to post the appendix, however. *rubs head* I think I may have forgotten all the stuff I wanted to put in the appendix. Argh.
Lizzy44: Much more torment for the brothers to come!
Youkai Girl: I -adore- Okita. Soujirou confuses me sometimes, though. He's pretty hard to write, mainly because he is so single-minded.
Trupana: A couple of different people suspected that Okita was going to be his father. But, I think this is more fun. Anyway, Watsuki-sensei based the character of Seta Soujirou loosely off of Okita in some ways. (Well, he says he did, anyway.) The funny thing about Okita and Soujirou are that they both have inconsistent hair colors in the anime! Sometimes black, sometimes brown. Guess the animators couldn't make up their minds. You've hit the nail on the head about why the mother named two sons the same. I guess she keeps trying to replace the things she lost with new ones. I'm sorry I haven't read Icicle Lovin' yet, but it is on my favorite stories list now, so I should get to it next time I run through unread fics. :D
lone_wolf_236: Bunbu was supposed to be very -Yoda-. In a way, I guess, Soujirou and Okita reminds me of Obi Wan and Luke. (Except Okita isn't -that- old.) Anyway, I know, I guess I have a -problem- wanting to give Okita some family. I very much enjoyed writing the Seichii/Souji bits in H&T and thought this would be a way to somewhat capture that, but at the same time explore Soujirou. :D
MissBehavin: It might be a while before Saitou and Okita finally meet up. But, they definitely will. Chuckle. I think I may be running out of ways to resurrect Okita, but I used the best one I had. :D Thanks for reading!
Shimizu Hitomi: Thanks for the links. Sorry if I fudged Soujirou's age a bit. :D Anyway, it probably would have been easier for Okita to commit seppuku. I can think of two reasons why he would not. 1) Seppuku requires a great deal of strength, which he didn't really have at that point. 2) Seppuku would be an honorable way to die, and Okita did not, at that point, think himself worthy of such honor after failing his friends. Well, I'm just grasping at straws, because I have to admit, I didn't think about it while writing.
SachiAmi: I think ol' Okita may be slowly becoming less grouchy. Soujirou is definitely distracting him from brooding about how much his life sucks, anyway. :D
Ron Weasley: Thanks for reading! Glad you are enjoying the story!
Ebony-Glass: Oh, you have not seen insanity yet. Just wait a few chapters until Shishio shows up. Cackle!
Veleda: Yeah. I'm big on brothers. Maybe I've always wanted one of my own. :D And I think you are right about Yumi. She was strong in many ways. I mean, who else could SMILE after being stabbed?
Wistful-Eyes: Yeah. Soujirou has to work a bit on his social skills. Can you imagine never being hugged in your life? How awful for the boy.
Master of Time and Space: Did you get my reviews for your story? The Soujirou in WalMart thing still cracks me up every time I think about it.
Lord Cirenmas: Thanks for reading. :D
Eeevee: So many "E"s in your name. Chuckle. I always pictured Soujirou as being a bit "slow" sometimes, but I think he is quicker (mentally) than he likes to admit to himself and others. He's one of those people who could be smart, maybe, if someone showed him how to do it. He just -agonizes- over thinking about things too much. He really does need a hobby, eh?
Sailor-Earth13: Thanks for reading. It should be an amusing adventure, I hope. :D
ooka-chan: I made up the poem. Took me quite a while, as I am not a very adept poet. I wish I could figure out how to make ff.net display poetry in the middle of a story correctly. Well, I'm glad you liked it. :D
ChiisaiLammy: No problem. Personally, I'm always amazed by everyone's reviews. Mine, especially for stories I really like, are always so short. I think to myself, "Well, that was just perfect. What else could I say about it?" Anyway, I am working to try and make the pair more dynamic. It should become more interesting when the third main character enters the scene. I'm glad you like my descriptions. I always thought they were probably the worst part of any story I write. I wish I were a talented artist, like you, then I could draw a picture and say: "Here is what I was describing, it might make more sense to -see- it." Chuckle.
RK-LuVa: Up with the Okita and Soujirou fanclub, eh? Those boys, they so rock. :D There may be some light romance towards the middle/end, but nothing distracting, I hope.
Pixie Ayanami: Yeah, Saitou showing up and seeing the brothers will be one of the -big- scenes, I think, but it may not happen for a few chapters yet. Hehehehe. What -will- happen? Ooooo.
Nigihayami Haruko: I hope this explains the ages and the past, a bit. They should uncover more -if- they make it to the boat. Chuckle. Thanks so much for reading!
Gemini1: I -finally- got to see episodes 15 and 16. Might I say that the OKita clone is so... Ack. *shudder* But, hmmmm...Hijikata and the potato. *cracking up* Anyway, there are three things which can explain any stupid and quasi-magical plot, I've found. Eastern Medicine and Magic, Nuclear Radiation, and Aliens. Hm. Has anyone written a story where Kenshin gets abducted by aliens yet? Imagine Scully and Mulder in Meiji Japan. Hmmmmmmmmm.
pu: Thanks for reading!!!