Chapter 4 - New Sparks in the Tinder
--- Osaka Harbor
The sun was just rising
above the sea horizon. The first crimson rays splashed on the night-dark waves,
washing them with ruby brilliance. They glinted off the polished dark gray hull
of the battle-ship. The massive steel monolith was an ominous brooding
presence, moored far out at sea and away from the rest of the wooden Japanese
ships. A thick cloud of fumes still trailed up from the funnel in the middle,
the smoke turning the newly risen sun a darker shade of red. Two tall masts
flanked the funnel, a British flag flapping in the stiff breeze on a line from
the aft mast.
A rowboat smoothly cleaved
through the waves towards the battle-ship, six burly dock-workers pulling the
oars in perfect rhythm. Three men sat on the prow, the two younger ones
obviously acting as guard for the older man wearing the formal strapping of a
government official.
Once the boat was close
enough, raised voices rang out from the once quiet ship. A shouted challenge in
English was answered by the Japanese official. A little while later, a rope
ladder was thrown down from the ship's side. The three men climbed up the
ladder, the older official a bit awkwardly, to be greeted by two Westerners in
full uniform of the British Navy. The one in front was a big, barrel-chested
man in his fifties, with black hair and a thick mustache liberally sprinkled
with gray. His uniform was immaculately neat and spotless for someone who must
have been awake throughout the night.
"Welcome aboard, Mr.
Yoshimura I presume?"
The older Japanese man
bowed to him, his two followers following suit. The two British officers bowed
back, albeit less smoothly.
The British officer continued,
"I'm Captain Sterling, Maximillian Sterling. This is my second in command,
Jonathan Price." The younger man behind him inclined his head a bit stiffly.
"The passengers will come to the deck soon. If you would, let us wait for them
inside."
"Hajimemashite, Captain
Sterling," the Japanese official greeted him back pleasantly. "My name is
Yoshimura. Thank you for your hospitality, but it is alright for us to wait
here." He lifted his eyes to sweep a look around the deck. "If it is not too
much trouble though, may we be allowed to have a look around your excellent
ship? I have to admit, this is the first time I have ever set foot on a British
ship. I find myself very curious about
it."
The younger
second-in-command blinked, obviously a bit taken aback by the Japanese man's
smoothly spoken English. The Captain did not miss a beat. "Of course," he
murmured, "It's our pleasure. Mr. Price here will guide you around the ship. If
you will excuse me, I will go down to supervise the passengers. Quicker will be
best for us all, but civilians will dawdle if given the chance."
Yoshimura smiled and nodded, "Of course, Captain."
Maximillian Sterling
turned and gave Price a warning glance before walking towards the hatch leading
inside. From behind, he could hear Price's voice asking the Japanese men to
follow him. They would be given a tour of the deck and parts of the cannon
rooms, but not the engines. Enough to subtly impress them with British's
technological and weaponry superiority, but not revealing any sensitive
technological knowledge. That would have to wait until later, if Japan truly
becomes British's valued trading partner. 'If' being the operative word.
He walked down the
cramped stairs towards the passenger cabins. Loud noises came from all around
him as bleary-eyed civilians struggled to finalize their packing and disembark.
He went to one room in particular, slightly secluded from the rest. His soft
knockings were answered by a deep bass voice. "Come in."
Inside a British
gentleman in his late forties rose from the small bed, smiling in greeting. He
was a tall and powerfully-build man, tailor-made black suit and long overcoat
accentuating his wide shoulders and chest. His hair was a dark ash-blond with
side-burns streaked with white, a mustache and neatly-trimmed beard lining an
angular jaw. Deep blue eyes assessed Maximillian Sterling's face, and he swept
a hand towards the only chair in the cramped room.
"Sit down, Max. Would you
like some tea?"
Maximillian's face
creased in a smile as he closed the door. "It amazes me how you can still enjoy
tea at a time like this." His eyes found the packed suitcases lining the side
of the cabin. "You are all set to go?"
"Isabelle's doing. She
was restless the whole night; in the end I let her pack my things just so she
could spend some of that pent-up energy and get some sleep. And let me go to
sleep too, I might add." His eyes danced with merriment as he poured a cup of
tea and offered it to Maximillian.
Maximillian chuckled as
he accepted the cup, easily balancing it against the gentle sway of the ship.
"We are all going to miss her. You know, she has become the darling of my men,
and in such a short time too. I swear she has all of your charisma and more."
He shook his head slightly, his voice turning serious, "You'll have to take
good care of her, Lawrence. And Chris is still so young. Japan is not a very
safe place, and from what we've heard, this city called Kyoto is one of the
worst places to be in right now."
"I know. But she would
not stay behind, and she and Chris would be all alone back in London.
Considering the wealth of my inheritance, I could depend on the rest of
my...'esteemed relatives' to plot against them. Besides, I've neglected them
during my years in China, and since Evelyn died..." Lawrence quieted, sipping
his own cup of tea.
"At least here I could
keep my eyes on them both. They should be safe inside the embassy compound."
Maximillian nodded. "If
you say so. Where are Isabelle and Chris anyway ?"
"Chris is in the
restroom, Isabelle has gone to fetch him. She said they will meet with me on
the deck."
"Alright." Maximillian
looked at his old friend soberly. "I have told you the location of our mooring
place. Remember, if you encounter anything you can't handle, we'll be here.
What you are going to do...if even half of the information we had regarding the
Japanese is true, you will have men lining up to kill you from both sides."
Lawrence nodded somberly,
"I know. Which is why nobody except you and Sir Hawthorne will know about my
full authority."
"Try to be more
inconspicuous, will you?" Maximillian grinned at him. "Although that is
probably a hard word for you to understand, Mister Rutherford, Sir."
Sir Lawrence Rutherford,
ambassador from Her Majesty the Queen of England, British Minister to Japan,
smiled at his friend and tipped his cup in wry acknowledgment.
***
Outside in the corridor,
in front of the common lavatory, a small altercation was going on.
"Chris! Come on, we're
going to be late. What is taking you so long?"
A Caucasian girl in a
long formal dress stood at the end of the passenger corridor. Honey-blond hair
framed a sweet oval face, the thick strands falling to her waist in soft waves.
A pale creamy complexion set off eyes the color of deep sapphire. She would
have been the perfect picture of demure maiden beauty if not for the aggressive
fire that burned in her eyes and the stance she took - arms akimbo with one
foot tapping an impatient rhythm in front of her. There was a parasol tucked on
her sleeved elbow, but she looked more likely to use it to hit the door in
front of her than to shield her skin from the sun.
She gave a small, very
unlady-like growl and pounded on the door with one fist. "Christopher! Get out
of there right now!"
A tiny muffled voice
could be heard from the other side, "Just a minute, 'belle."
The door to the staircase
beside her opened as two sailors peeked at her in bemusement.
"'belle, what's wrong?"
The taller one asked with a grin.
The girl called Belle
turned to look at the two men in exasperation. "Chris is taking up the
restroom. I can't believe it, what could he be doing in there for fifteen
minutes? Chris!"
The shorter sailor with
brown hair offered cheekily, "You could use our restroom if you want 'belle,
you're always welcome in our quarters."
Isabelle sniffed at the
widely-grinning two-some, though her eyes were sparkling with humor. "Your
quarters stink. You men are all the same, you can't clean and wash properly
even if your life depended on it. Going there once is enough for me."
"Hey!" The man protested,
feigning a hurt expression. "That's not fair. We don't get to wash up as often
as you first-class passengers do. 'sides, you don't wash your own clothes
either, Missy."
Isabelle's right hand
tightened on the handle of her parasol. "Pardon me, but may I ask what you are
trying to say?" she asked sweetly.
The taller sailor was
grinning openly as he inched his way back out. The other man blithely
continued, "Well, Missus Morgen washed, ironed and folded your clothes. She
said that if you do it yourself you'll probably end up ripping the seams...
YOUCH!!"
Isabelle triumphantly
retracted her parasol from where it had come down solidly on the shorter
sailor's instep. "Missus Morgen said that, did she?" she continued with the
same sweet smile firmly in place. "Well, you might not want to believe
everything Missus Morgen says. Missus Morgen only knew me for a few months, and
Missus Morgen does *not* know everything there is to know about me."
The shorter sailor was
awkwardly bouncing on one leg trying to rub his sore foot, all the while
shooting a death glare towards his chortling friend. "Well, alright, if you say
so," he muttered, "I'll see you on the deck later, Missy." He limped past his
friend. The other man grinned widely at Isabelle, "'belle, one free word of
advice. If you go on acting like this, you'll scare off your future husband."
He wisely slammed the door shut right before Isabelle's parasol hit the wood
where his head used to be.
Isabelle glared at the
door, hands firmly clutching her parasol. "Well," she muttered defiantly, "what
if I don't care?"
The door beside her
finally creaked open and a small, rather frail-looking Caucasian boy about
five-six years in age stepped out somewhat timidly. Isabelle frowned down at
him and immediately turned her full attention on the boy.
"What took you so... hey,
you're all dressed up already?"
The boy had the same
golden-blonde hair as Isabelle, with an even paler complexion that accentuated
the flush on his cheeks. The delicate features on the small face were similar
enough to the girl's to proclaim them as brother and sister. The white suit he
wore hung somewhat loosely on his thin frame, though that did not prevent him
from fidgeting a bit in its constraint. Big, sky-blue eyes looked up at
Isabelle with guilt and embarrassment.
"I... I dressed up
myself. 'belle, you said I needed to wear this so I did."
Isabelle dropped down to
her knees and scrutinized the boy, turning him once around. Her eyebrows rose as she noticed that
everything was neatly in place. "Hey, this is good...you said you did it
yourself?"
"Uh-hmm. Did I do it
right?"
Isabelle smiled widely at
the boy's earnest expression, "Yes, you did, Chris. You did great. I can't
believe you dressed up all by yourself."
Chris broke into a
brilliant smile. "I told you I wouldn't be a burden to you and Father, didn't
I? I can take care of myself, you don't have to worry about me."
"Oh, Chris..." Isabelle
breathed, "Is that why...? It's alright, Chris. I'll always be here with you,
and so will Father."
"Promise?" Wide eyes
pleaded with Isabelle, the fear and loneliness in them making her heart hurt,
"You and Father won't ever leave me behind?"
Isabelle forced a
cheerful smile on her face. "Of course we won't. What a silly thing to say! Now
come, or we will be holding all the others back."
***
The once empty deck was
now occupied with milling passengers, suitcases scattered everywhere waiting to
trip the unwary. Shouts rang in the air as sailors labored to prepare the
ship's two row-boats.
A small group was
standing near the prow - Yoshimura with
his men, Captain Sterling, Lawrence Rutherford, and a portly British gentleman
in his late fifties. The latter was talking quietly to Yoshimura .
"There are fifteen of us
in total, five merchants and the rest are embassy staff with families. May I
ask about the travel arrangements to Kyoto's embassy place?"
Yoshimura replied
politely, "We have made the arrangements, Delacourt-san. Three carriages are
waiting at the harbor to carry your embassy staff and your families to Kyoto.
We should arrive there in the early afternoon. The carriages will be well
guarded of course."
"Much appreciated, Mister
Yoshimura. May I ask," Delacourt leaned forward, casually asking the question
that Rutherford had asked him to, "I've heard a few rumors about these... Ishin
Shishi, is it ? I'm wondering how much of it is justified...."
Yoshimura started and
looked up at the elderly man, "Hai." He paused a bit, "I'm sure whatever you've
heard was exaggerated, rumors have the tendency to do that. It is only a small
group...unsatisfied with their lot, nothing major. We have the situation under
control. We keep your head of embassy, Hawthorne-san, well informed on the
situation. I am sure he can answer your questions better."
His reply was too
deliberately vague and general, yet his very reticence gave up some
information. Rutherford smiled easily with Delacourt as the other man murmured
quiet affirmations. Not very forthcoming.
I wonder just how much information they allow Sir Hawthorne to know, and how
much they concealed.
He let Delacourt lead the
talk with the Japanese, as they had arranged previously. The older man was
listed as the leader of their little group of additional embassy staff for the
Kyoto branch, and he would be the one liaising directly with their Japanese
contact. He did not know Rutherford's background or his exact authority, none
of them did, except that he had the written order from the Minister of Foreign
Affairs to follow this man's orders. Rutherford would keep himself in the
background, until the time came when he would need to exercise his authority.
During his discussion with the Ministers back in London, they had agreed that
it was safest for him this way.
Maximillian was talking
to Yoshimura, "I will need a guide to bring my ship to that secluded harbor you
mentioned. The engine has been kept warm, once my rowboats return I can leave
immediately. I assume it's best for all concerned if I leave as quickly as
possible?"
A British battle-ship
moored in Osaka would not be a very reassuring thing to the Japanese
government, and definitely not to the citizens living there. It was barely a
year ago since the disastrous Battle of Shimonoseki between Choshu-han and
western allied fleet, where battle-ships had bombarded the fords at Shimonoseki
into ruins. And the year before that, the Battle of Kagoshima between
Satsuma-han and the English fleet. They did not need a personification of
westerners' superior fire-power sitting within touching distance in front of
their homes.
Yoshimura nodded towards
Maximillian, "Yes, that would be best. One of the sailors in my boat was a
local fisherman, he will show you the way to the other harbor. I believed it
was about four hours away from here, faster perhaps with your ship. I have
arranged for fresh food and supplies to be made available to you, as well as
any other... needs... your men might have."
Maximillian nodded back,
"Thank you. I appreciate the thorough accommodations."
"Father!"
Lawrence turned around to
see Isabelle and Chris walking towards him.
"Ah, you are ready? I was
about to go down and look for you two. I wouldn't want to leave you behind on
the ship, Chris." Lawrence smiled down at his son.
Chris' small face
scrunched up slightly in distress, but Isabelle quickly intervened, "Stop
teasing him, father. You can't leave Chris without leaving me behind too, and
you know you can't do that."
"Oh?" Lawrence's eyebrow
raised up as he smiled widely at his daughter, "And why is that, hmm?"
Isabelle moved closer to
Maximillian and wound her arms through the old Captain's hand, "Because uncle
Max will order his men to drag you back onboard and take us with you, right
uncle Max?" She gave Maximillian the most winsome smile in her repertoire.
Maximillian laughed out
loud, patting Isabelle's hand, "Stop that, you little minx. I'm too old to fall
for your tricks. You can try that on Jonathan though, I'm sure he'll be very
receptive."
Isabelle's cheeks
reddened slightly, "Why pull Jonathan into this?"
Maximillian grinned down
at her, "Why, I thought you already knew that he could not say no to anything
you say. A pity your father already had someone in mind for you..."
"Uncle Max!" Isabelle
exclaimed, embarrassment mixing with more than a little aggravation. Lawrence
and Delacourt were chuckling, Yoshimura smiled politely.
Maximillian's gray eyes
were dancing with mirth as he continued to tease the young woman, "What's the
matter, 'belle, Jonathan not the type that you like? Or is it that you prefer
them younger?"
Isabelle pulled her hands
from Maximillian's hold, stamping her feet in utter frustration, "I refuse to
talk to you when you're in one of these... these moods! And why do you always
talk about men with me? I'm not interested."
Maximillian's bushy
eyebrows made a climb for his hairline, "Not interested? Not interested she
says, Rutherford!" He glanced over at Lawrence who gave a small helpless shrug.
"I thought girls your age think about men a lot, young lady."
Chris spoke up for the
first time, his tone solemn, "A lot of men want to talk to 'belle, but she
wouldn't listen to them. She said they're boring."
Isabelle stared at Chris
open-mouthed, not expecting this little betrayal from her brother. "Chris, I
did not say that!"
Chris looked up at her
with wide eyes, "I heard you talking in your room."
"You eavesdropped on
me??"
"No, I could hear you
from the hall. You just talk loud, 'belle."
Before Isabelle could
give a fitting reply to that, one sailor rushed towards Maximillian, "The boats
are ready, Sir. The passengers can start boarding them."
"Well," Maximillian
turned towards them all, "I suppose it's time to depart then. I wish you all a
good journey, and good luck." His eyes caught Lawrence's before he turned to
shake hands with the Japanese men.
Isabelle hesitated for a
while, then she stood up on tip-toes and swiftly kissed Maximillian on one
grizzled cheek. "Good-bye, uncle Max," she murmured softly, an uncomfortable
tightness in her throat.
"Hey," Maximillian's eyes
were kind, "We'll see each other again, Isabelle. Take care, and take good care
of Chris." He bent down to ruffle the boy's fine hair.
"I will."
She took Chris' hand and
approached one of the rowboats. It hung from the side of the frigate by ropes
and pulleys, waiting to be filled with passengers before it would be lowered to
the sea. Jonathan Price was standing beside the boat, helping the women board.
Isabelle gave him what she hoped was a simple friendly smile, "Good-bye
Jonathan, and good luck."
Jonathan looked as if he
wanted to say something, but he simply nodded somberly and replied softly,
"Good-bye, Isabelle."
He helped Chris and her
to board the slightly shifting boat. At the last moment, his hand tightened on
hers as he looked at her. "Be safe," he murmured earnestly. Isabelle nodded,
touched despite herself. As the boat began to lower, Isabelle craned up her
neck to search the faces of the sailors above. She had gotten to know most of
them well in the months-long journey from London to Osaka, and she knew that
she was going to miss them.
As the rowers began to
pull the boat from the battle-ship, the sailors above bunched together and, on
some hidden cue, suddenly yelled down together at the boat below, "GOOD-BYE,
MISS BELLE! GOOD JOURNEY!!"
Isabelle nearly jumped
out of her seat, then she laughed out loud at their parting gift for her, her
laughter full with simple delight. Ignoring the slightly disapproving looks
from the other women, she waved back vigorously at them.
"Thank you!" she shouted.
"Good-bye, all of you!"
She sat back on her seat,
smiling a bit bashfully at her father's amused expression. As she settled
against the rocking motion of the boat, she gazed at the harbor and the town
sprawled beyond it. The brightening rays of the newly-risen sun looked as if
they were bringing the town out of slumber. Osaka.
And after that - Kyoto. Isabelle's smile widened with eager expectations.
This is going to be an unforgettable journey. I just know it.
***
--- Kyoto, Shinsengumi
Headquarter
The sun was shining as
brightly as yesterday, but Okita Souji's state of mind was completely
different. He wearily wiped a palm over his face as he surveyed the
soot-blackened safe in the main office, then the big gaping hole where the
window once stood. His fellow Shinsengumi Saitou Hajime leaned against the wall
beside him, arms across his chest, quietly awaiting his reaction.
The captain of the First
Troop had just arrived from a long and exhausting trek back from the site of
his duel - dirty, tired, and in pain. He had refused to see a physician, opting
to return to the Shinsengumi headquarter first to see the situation. Where he found this mess.
Glass and wood pieces
crunched under him as he walked up to the safe and bent down to peer inside.
The fire had been intense; a few fragments of paper remained, not much.
Saitou quietly said, "I
sent words to Susumu-san immediately after the intruder escaped, I warned him
about what could happen. Kondou-san and Hijikata-san too. They should be here
soon."
Okita sighed,
surreptitiously rubbing his chest with one hand. "No matter how fast Susumu-san
warn them, some of our people will still turn up as corpses in the next few
days. The Ishin Shishi have gone to all this trouble, they must had a solid
plan to follow through."
"So," Saitou said softly,
"you think the intruder came for our list of informers?"
"That's the most logical
conclusion. These last two years, they've been hard hit by information leak
about their plans, safe-houses. It's quite inevitable that they would try to
counter-attack. I did not expect them to do something like this though. It just
felt too... desperate, too risky. Although now that it worked, there is really
nothing I can say." Okita sighed again heavily.
"Do you know what else
were in the safe? I got a glimpse of the inside just before it was burned to a
crisp. It looked far fuller than it usually is."
Okita frowned, "I'm not
entirely sure, but lately Kondou-san kept coming back from meetings with seifu
officials with some documents. I don't know what they contained, but I do know
he planned to burn them once he's finished with them. Except that I'm sure he
at least still kept yesterday's ones, and he usually left them in the safe."
Saitou hmmphed, then dryly
remarked, "Well, they're certainly burnt now."
Okita managed a wan
smile. "Yes. But I think the important question is how did he know those extra
documents were there? It's only lately that Kondou-san stored things other than
Shinsengumi documents inside the safe. It could be a coincidence, but I don't
think you believe in coincidences any more than I do."
"An informer. In our
midst." Saitou looked like he had swallowed something rotten. Neither of them
missed the irony of the situation. Now it would be the Shinsengumi who would
spend sleepless nights wondering about the source of the leak.
"And another important
thing. This safe is very solid and it's Western-made. I don't see any traces of
forced entry, the locking mechanism looks quite whole. So whoever did this
either had the entry combination, which only Kondou-san and Hijikata-san
knows, or he knows how to break into a
Western-made safe. I don't think there are many in Japan who are qualified for
that. " Okita turned to Saitou, "What was the intruder like, can you tell me?"
"The man was trained in
ninjutsu," Saitou offered evenly. "Good stealth, although the idiots here were
not making it very difficult for him." The few Shinsengumi in the room flinched
slightly at the Captain's scathing tone, but Saitou ignored them. "Quite
skilled too, he nearly avoided my Gatotsu. "
"Nearly?"
Saitou shrugged, "I
wounded him in the stomach, but it was not lethal. He back-flipped right
through the window."
Okita crunched his way to
the hole on the wall and looked down. "Hmm, the ground is quite far down. Not
bad. Did you recognize his style?"
"We were only engaged in
a short while, but the way he evaded me reminded me of someone."
Okita turned towards him.
"Oh?"
Saitou's intense gaze met
Okita's. "Makimachi Hayato."
The other man's eyes
widened with incredulity. "But...that's impossible."
"I'm not saying that the
intruder last night was the Okashira of Oniwabanshu, but I've seen Makimachi
Hayato in action before, and I'm not mistaken. At least, the intruder must have
some relationship with him."
"And, if as you say the
intruder knows how to break into Western safe - well, there are all those
rumors that some Oniwabanshu had gotten all the way to America and France. It's
not inconceivable that they managed to learn some western skills there."
Okita bleakly considered
the ramifications of accusing the head of the Oniwabanshu of conspiracy with
Ishin Shishi. He winced. It was going to get ugly.
Saitou was scrutinizing
Okita, noting the way the younger man was limping. "That leg wound looks pretty
nasty. You better have it looked after." He motioned an anxious old man into
the room, the Shinsengumi's resident physician. Okita remembered telling him to
wait for him at his room. He looked at Saitou, who gave an infinitesimal shrug
of his shoulders.
Okita smiled, genuinely
this time. "Arigatou, Saitou-san."
Saitou waved a dismissive
hand. "Tell me - is he that good? Hitokiri Battousai."
Okita carefully lowered
himself to a sitting pallet, "Yes. He is that good. He wasn't in his best form
last night though. I wounded him quite badly, but he escaped us by jumping off
a cliff."
"Did you get his body?"
Okita shook his head,
"No." He stoically endured the physician's ministration. The temporary cloth
bandage around it was encrusted with dried blood. It peeled off painfully to
reveal a nasty long gash across the width of his leg, above his knee. From
previous experience, Okita knew it would be a few weeks before he would recover
full use of that leg. At least the other wounds were not so severe, but he
might be forced to take some time off.
When he looked up again,
Saitou was looking down at him with a small tight smile on his lips. It gave
his sharp face a slightly predatory, hungry look. "We'll see him again then."
"Probably not for a few
weeks, but yes. No doubt." Okita tilted his head towards Saitou, considering
Saitou's face.
"I know that look. You're
marking him?"
Saitou's smile widened
into a not-quite-smirk. "Him and that person last night. I had a score to
settle with them."
"Shinsengumi hunt
together, Saitou-san."
There was an
undecipherable expression on Saitou's face as he looked back at Okita.
"Aa."
***
Three wooden, horse-drawn
carriages made their way down a crowded street of Kyoto, more than a dozen
officers on horse-back accompanying it and clearing the road for the carriages
to go through. The windows were tightly shuttered, heavy cloth drawn over them
not allowing even a glimpse of the occupants' shadows. The afternoon crowd
cleared the way quickly for them, the forbidding look on the guards' faces more
than enough incentive. Idle speculations were whispered around, but if the
crowd had known who were truly in the carriages, the peaceful afternoon would
probably erupt into bloody violence, such was the mood against gaijins.
Isabelle sat inside one
rather crowded carriage, Chris cradled against her and soundly sleeping. She
absently patted her little brother's back, staring at the thick window curtain
and straining her ears to hear any sound from outside. The noise level had
increased considerably, they must had entered their destination then.
Kyoto.
She mulled the word in
her mind, as she often had for the past few months. The unfamiliar name had
come to represent what Japan was to her. Exotic, strange, exciting. And
dangerous; 'uncivilized' as Missus Morgen had called it. Everybody had stressed
to her the danger of being here. Her father himself had adamantly refused to
bring her and Chris, until she met his stubbornness with her own. Their
arguments had been long and fierce, resulting finally in a challenge - Isabelle
and Chris could only come if she could prove her worth as embassy staff by
learning the Japanese language.
There were only five
months remaining before the ship would set sail. Isabelle knew her father had
expected her to fail, but she had locked herself in the house for four months
with her tutor, a little Japanese man who came back from China with her father.
When the time came, she had surprised everyone with a fluently-spoken Japanese
and a modest vocabulary of words. Even with her gift for languages, it was
hard, but she was determined. She would not be left behind again, and neither
would Chris. Not after what had happened the last time Lawrence left for China.
And of course, it will be nice to see him again.
Isabelle found herself smiling at that. When she had first insisted on coming,
she had not known that an old acquaintance would be in Japan. It has been years, I wonder if he's changed?
Men don't change that much after their twenties, but I wonder if he'll
recognize me? She had to stifle a giggle at that. Probably not, she had
been a mere twelve-year-old back then. She was looking forward to surprising
him.
But she had to reach the
embassy ground first. She stopped herself from fidgeting in impatience, afraid
of waking Chris. The carriage trip had been unbelievably boring and monotonous.
After that first tantalizing view of Osaka, they had been ushered into their
carriages as fast as their hosts could put them. They were given explicit
warning not to open the window and show themselves. With nothing to do, the
other four women in the carriage had fallen asleep during the dull ride through
the countryside. She had been too edgy to sleep though. It was a good thing
they were going to reach their destination soon. She fervently hoped that she
would not have to go through this every time she wanted to go somewhere.
Isabelle was shaken from
her thought as the carriage suddenly grounded to a halt. There were raised
voices from outside and a few cracks of whips. She tried to make sense of the
words, but the thick curtain muffled them too well. What's happening? She waited some more. The carriage did not move.
She tapped her fingers in frustration, then finally gave up. Biting her lower
lip slightly, she very slowly lifted one corner of the curtain.
Her slight movement
stirred up Chris who woke up rubbing his eyes with one hand. He curiously
peeked up at Isabelle. "'belle? What are you doing?"
Isabelle waved one hand
at him frantically, "Shush!" She carefully slid the wooden window frame
forward, wincing slightly when it caught at something, then peeked through
the slight gap.
There was quite a
gathering near a small non-descript building beside the road. The crowd spilled
over to the rather narrow road, blocking the way and forcing their carriage to
stop. For a moment, she was distracted by the strange clothing of the men and women,
their odd appearance. She had seen Japanese people before of course, but seeing
so many of them crowding the street with not one Caucasian face among them
hammered down how far from home she was.
And she finally had her
first glimpse of Kyoto. The first thing that struck her was how much more wood
was being used instead of stones, unlike London. Wouldn't fire be very dangerous then? Glass seemed to be
non-existent, replaced with what looked like paper, like the windows in her
carriage. The city felt different to
any other places she'd ever been to. Strange, enthralling, and a little
frightening at the same time.
Some of their guards were
talking to a few men in blue-and-white jacket, standing apart from the rest of
the civilians. She assumed they were the police or some kind of security force,
they had that hard authoritative look. The expression on their faces were dark,
and one of them spat on the dirt, saying something harshly. Civilians nearby
shied away from them, eyeing the men nervously. All of their attention were
drawn towards the inside of the building, but she could not see what they were
looking at. A rather tall Japanese man wearing a straw-hat was standing right
in the way, blocking her view.
"Move...," she muttered
in a low tone towards the man's broad back. "Come on, can't you just move a
little bit to the side? Just a little, that's all I ask... ah!"
Almost as if he had heard
her, the man blocking her view shifted to the side, letting her see past to the
open door of the building. The shifting of the crowd in front finally gave her
a glimpse of the inside. For a few seconds, she just stared uncomprehendingly
at the tableau.
There was a man lying
halfway outside the entrance, his waist resting across the raised wooden doorframe She could not tell if he
was young or old, could not even see what he looked like, because his face was
all red. He looked as if a bucket of red paint was splashed all over him,
staining his face, his clothes, and the dusty ground beneath him. A long sword
was driven through his throat, pinning his neck to the dirt. She could see a
few vague figures inside the dark interior of the house, but she could not make
out anything except that they were all too still.
Bile rose to her mouth as
her brain finally registered what she was seeing. Pressing a palm hard to her
mouth, she yanked the curtain back down. She was vaguely aware of Chris's small
voice asking her if she was alright, but she was too busy trying to keep from
heaving. The inside of the carriage felt far too stifling. Suddenly the sharp
crack of whip sounded outside and their carriage lurched back into motion.
Isabelle leaned back against the seat, feeling the sickening pressure in her
stomach and the rapid beat of her heart. Those
men... were they...?
What kind of person could do such a thing?
Outside, the man who had
blocked Isabelle's view stood gazing at the departing carriage, piercing eyes thoughtful under the rim of
his low-drawn straw hat. For a moment there, he thought he had heard a female
voice, speaking in another language. Gaijins?
His mouth quirked up in an amused smirk. He glanced back at the crowd goggling
at the gory sight, the Shinsengumi fuming impotently. Fools, just a bunch of ignorant sheep. With a final contemptuous
sneer, Shishio Makoto left his fourth present for the Shinsengumi, casually
walking off to blend in with the passers-by.
***
He burned in the
darkness. How long has it been? No way to tell. Here, time was dictated by laboring
beats of his heart, stretched into pieces of eternity by agony that pounced
from the dark - again and again. The
heat smothered his body, swallowed him, until he was drowning in it. He
remembered drowning, his lungs heavy and thick with water. Except this water
seared him inside out, and it tasted of blood.
Whose was it this time,
this blood that he's tasting? He tried to see, but there was only blackness. He
groped forward blindly, and the blackness flowed around his hands, resisting
his efforts to part it. He cried out blindly. He was so tired of being in the
dark, where was the way out ?
I can't see...
...help me...
Something smooth and cool
flowed over his fevered skin, taking away some of the heat. Breathing became
easier, some of the crushing weight lifted off his chest. He shuddered in
relief. Cool, bitter water trickled into his mouth, a half-heard voice coaxing
soothingly. A voice he trusted. He gave in, no longer fighting, and sank deeper
into the velvet darkness -
And into a familiar
formless world, one that he visited so often. A memory of blossom, a delicate
fragrance that caressed his face light as feather, gently enveloping him. And
he felt peace for a while. He clung to the precious emotion, knowing that it
would not last.
Even as he thought of it,
the subtle fragrance began to change. A stronger smell bled into it, from outside and inside of him. So easily
overpowered, the fragrance became more cloying, sweeter and sharper. Metallic with
the faintest of flowers.
He breathed deeply
anyway, because he had done so then. Because these dreams, for he recognized
this for what it was, have their own set path to follow, rituals to be honored.
And he had performed these rituals night after night. It was the price he paid
for being alive, the price for destroying life after life, even when he knew
what each of them meant.
The faces of the dead
were here, with only a passing thought to summon them into forms. They lingered
in his mind as ghosts, their eyes forever watching, endlessly judging. Their
voices filled the void with a restless murmur that repeated, over and over
again.
Why?
And always, his
conviction crumbled to dust under the weight of their death. Guilt and doubts
crushed him under its weight of despair, and only one thought remained that
made him go on.
All of it should not be for nothing. She
would not die for nothing.
To give up now would be
cowardice. It would negate everything he had done, waste all the lives that he
had cut short. He could not accept that. He refused to accept that. If there
was no justice, no higher meaning in this world, then he would create meaning
himself. He would wield his sword and carve reason and justice out of chaos. It
was a promise he had sworn to the souls of the dead - he would see this through
to the end. He owed them that much and more.
And when all the killings
were done, when all the blood were dried, there would be a new world where
children could grow up without need for a sword. For that dream, for as long as
it would take, he would be a monster. As long as he hurt, the monster would not
have devoured his soul completely. But the day he felt nothing, Himura Kenshin
would have died and only the monster would remain.
And then...
There was only one way
for a Shura path to end.
***
Notes :
1. Battle of Shimonoseki = 5-7 September 1864; For
various reasons, Choshu's bad relationship with the gaijins finally escalated
further, the Choshu fords at Shimonoseki bombarded western ships and closed off the Shimonoseki strait against
foreigner ships. UK, FR, US, Holland combined their navy to bomb those
Shimonoseki fords and win back the right to traverse the strait. The westerners
won hands-down. ^^;; P.S. : Shimonoseki is both name of the town and the
strait. If you have a map, it's the strait between the main island of Japan and
Kyushu island (the northernmost island).
2. Battle of Kagoshima = 15 August 1863; Kagoshima
was the capital city of Satsuma-han, on Kyushu beside the sea. English fleet attacked
it for retaliation against the murder of Englishman Richardson by a Satsuma
samurai. You're asking why the history lesson? Well, there's going to be more
importance to them later on ;p
3. And no, I didn't made up the rumors about
Oniwabanshu going all the way to US and FR ^_^;. Although who knows whether
they're really true or not...
4. 'seifu' = government; refers to Bakufu / the
Shogunate
5. 'Shura' = devil / demon
6. Names : 'Susumu-san' is Yamazaki Susumu, the head
of Shinsengumi's spies and information network; 'Kondou-san' and 'Hijikata-san'
is of course Kondou Isami and Hijikata Toshizo, Captain and Vice-captain of
Shinsengumi.
7. Sir Lawrence Rutherford was based loosely on Sir
Harry Parkes, who was the first official British Minister to Japan, serving from
1865-1883. I said *loosely* ^_^;;. I didn't dare use his name here since I'll
be taking a lot of liberties for the sake of the story, so I created the
fictional character instead.
8. Err, nautical terms... I feel like the blind
leading a blind ^_^; I'm not that familiar with ships, but since Miss told me
some info. may be helpful... 'mast' is the tall poles that support the sails,
'funnel' is the steam-tube, 'aft' is the back of a ship, 'prow' is the front of
a ship.