--- Outskirt of Kyoto
There were birds singing
somewhere.
He lay still for a long
time listening to the soft sounds, listening to his own heavier breathing.
Gradually, he became aware of more things. The rough scratchy feel of straw
against his skin, the warmth of a cotton blanket covering him, a stale fishy
smell in the air.
His body felt heavy, not
his own. Opening his eyes took some effort. Dust motes floated in the air above
him, highlighted by soft golden rays of light that shone in from cracks in the
thatched roof above. The dust motes danced in an intricate play of movement,
stirred by gentle eddies of air too soft to be felt. His mouth felt dry and
parched.
Where am I?
Instinctively he reached
for his katana, beside his sword hand where he usually put it. His fingers
closed on empty space. Frantic fear rose up in him. His katana never left his
side, it was as much an extension of his body as his arms were. Fingers
searching frantically suddenly brushed against something solid, almost out of
reach, a cool smoothness very familiar to him. With a sigh of relief, he
clutched the sword into his hand.
Next, he needed to find
out where he was. Years of living on the edge as a hitokiri, then as a guerilla
fighter, had trained that reflex into his bones.
Pushing the covering
blanket aside, he tried to sit up and was alarmed by how weak he felt. His arms
trembled and could barely support his weight. Light-headedness and dizziness
assaulted his head, but he stubbornly continued to push himself up, leaning to
his left.
Immediately his left arm
buckled under the strain, half-dumping him back to the pallet. The partially
registered stiffness on his right side flared into hot pain. He gasped and went
absolutely still, teeth clenched tight. After a while, the pulsing pain
subsided into a bearable ache. But it had served to jolt his memory back to
what had happened.
The river. Kyosuke.
I'm alive.
There was a strange
twinge somewhere deep in his heart on realizing that, but he refused to
acknowledge it. He kept lying down for a while, catching his breath. He noticed
someone had replaced his blood-soaked
clothing with a clean yukata that fit loosely on his thin frame. Looking
around, he saw that he was inside a small wooden hut with a blanket spread over
a pile of straw for bed. There were only a few rough, clay-cooking implements,
bare in the extreme.
Once again he tried to
get up. Very carefully, he pushed himself up to his knees, favoring his injured
left arm. Moving slowly reduced the pain to a bearable level. Using his katana
as a crutch, he supported himself to his feet, leaning on the wall. His head
felt too heavy and his feet wobbled uncertainly, but they did not collapse.
Careful not to move too fast, he slowly crept along the wall towards the closed
wooden door. A push sent it open with a protesting creak.
Outside, the late evening
sun reflected brilliantly from the wide river surface, turning it a glittering
crimson and gold. The hut stood on the slope of the slightly raised bank of the
river, surrounded by tall grass. A well-worn path led to a small rickety dock
beside the river. A few narrow fishing boats dotted the placid surface, a lone
fisherman on each boat.
Kyosuke is probably in one of those boats.
The thought was barely
out of his mind when a voice hollered somewhere from the side.
"OY! OY, HIMURA!"
A large man was waving
his hands vigorously on top of the small hill. When he saw he had Kenshin's
attention, he started down towards the hut. Kenshin judged the distance to the
hut and decided to wait for the other man inside. On the pallet. His head was
starting to spin and the glare hurt his eyes. He walked back at the same
invalid pace as before, crushing his impatience firmly. Slow was far better
than flat on his face in the dirt.
When he attempted to sit
back down, his feet simply gave way and he sprawled rather painfully on the
straw. Cursing between gritted teeth, he pulled his limbs into a semblance of
dignity just as Kyosuke entered the hut.
Kyosuke's wide friendly
face was scrunched up in a worried frown, "Hey, you're not supposed to be
moving yet. The sensei who patched you up said you lost a lot of blood, you
need rest."
Kenshin shook his head,
then stopped when it made the spinning worse. "I'm fine." His voice sounded
rusty to his own ears. "How long was I out?"
Kyosuke knelt beside him
and lifted a cup of water sitting beside the pallet. "This is the fourth day
after I fished you out of the water." Kyosuke grinned as he offered Kenshin the
water.
Kenshin's mind reeled. He
stared at Kyosuke in shock, "FOUR DAYS?!" Then he sputtered as Kyosuke
insistently fed him the water. The cool water felt incredibly wonderful to his
parched mouth and he drank thirstily.
"You had one hell of a
fever. Your wound was infected, and you were soaked in that river water. For a
while there, we were really worried." Kyosuke's eyes were somber as he
scrutinized his friend. Kenshin tried not to fidget under the concerned gaze,
unaccustomed to such attention. Then the moody expression disappeared from the
big man's face and he was smiling his usual bright smile.
"Don't worry, nothing
happened. Well, not to us anyway. Kyoto was in chaos though - thanks to you we
got the list of Shinsengumi and some seifu spies. Now most of them are dead or
in hiding. Katsura-san said you're to rest for two to three weeks before you
have to do anything. He said 'good work' to all of us." Kyosuke beamed at him.
Kenshin hardly dared to
believe their luck. "The mission was a complete success?"
Kyosuke froze slightly,
his eyes rising to the ceiling as he stammered, "Et-to..."
Sighing, Kenshin resignedly
said, "Tell me the whole thing Kyosuke. You're a horrible liar anyway."
Kyosuke scratched the
back of his head sheepishly, "Maa, maa, Himura. I just didn't want to worry
you. You always take things so seriously, I thought...", seeing Kenshin's glare,
he hurriedly added, "aah, I thought I'd tell you the whole thing? Anyway, our
part went off perfectly, but the one who was supposed to break into the safe in
the Shinsengumi's headquarter was caught red-handed. By the Third troop's
Captain, Saitou Hajime."
Kenshin looked up in
surprise, "I thought he was supposed to be in Edo?"
"He came back the day
before." Kyosuke hastily raised his hands to ward off Kenshin's glower,
"Katsura-san thought it's best not to distract you."
"Anyway, our man got the
spy list, and a few other things, but he didn't get it all. He did burn all
those documents before he escaped, so Katsura-san said those Shinsengumi are
probably still trying to sort things out now. He said we could take advantage
of that. It's not our fault," he added on seeing Kenshin's increasingly bleak
face.
Kenshin said nothing, his
mind in dark turmoil. After all that
effort, we still didn't get the most important things. It's a good thing we
finally know who the spies in our midst are, but with those other documents, we
could do so much more. His fists clenched in bitter anger. How much is this all worth in the big
picture? If this is all that I can do when I put in all my efforts, how little
it all means in the end.
A hand holding a rice
ball appeared before him. He started, looking up into Kyosuke's warm brown
eyes. "Eat some, you haven't eaten in four days. We couldn't get anything into
you."
Kenshin eyed the food,
nausea rising in sickening wave in his stomach. "You eat it," he murmured,
turning his head away, "I'm not hungry."
He felt sturdy palms on
his shoulders, then Kyosuke was firmly turning him towards him. Kenshin
stiffened at the flesh contact and had to stifle his ingrained reaction to push
the hands away. He looked at Kyosuke's earnest brown eyes, a frown creasing his
friend's thick brows. After a moment, Kyosuke sighed and bowed his head.
"I'm not supposed to tell
you this," he muttered softly, but his eyes were smiling when he looked back at
Kenshin, "But I can see that you're just going to be miserable otherwise."
Kenshin's eyes flashed,
but Kyosuke spoke before he managed to open his mouth, "Our man who got into
the safe managed to get quite a few useful pieces of information. Katsura-san
said probably more than the Shinsengumi suspected. Among other
things...remember the rebellion near Biwa Lake? Well, we found out the schedule
and route of the next supply runs to the military suppressing it. He's sending
a group of Shishis to intercept it, destroy it if necessary. There could be something
fishy in that run, since it made it into the top-secret documents."
"So you see Himura," he
grinned at him, "the mission's not as bad a failure as you think. And I'm just
a simple fisherman, so Katsura-san won't tell me anything. But I think he was
quite pleased, so there's gotta be some nice stuff we've gotten our hands on."
He pushed the rice ball into Kenshin's hand. "Now, eat."
Kenshin stared at his
gently smiling friend for a while, then at the food in his hand. His stomach
did not rebel quite as badly as before, so he took a tentative bite. They ate
their meal in silence. Later as Kyosuke bustled about tidying up their meal,
Kenshin cleared his throat and said in a soft voice, "Kyosuke... arigatou."
Kyosuke just grinned at
him. They both knew the thanks were for more than the food or his rescue from
the river.
"Himura, are you tired?"
Kenshin leaned back
carefully against the hut's side. "I've slept enough, I think," he replied
dryly. "What is it?"
Kyosuke scratched his
head again, "Ano... if it's not too much trouble..."
Kenshin broke into a rare
soft smile. "It's alright. But I'm afraid you'll have to help me bring the
paper and brush."
The other man scrambled
hastily to his feet, wide smile on his face, "Of course, you just stay there,
Himura. I'll prepare the ink for you."
Kenshin watched his
friend with fond amusement as the big man hurriedly fetched all the writing
implements. He laid them all carefully on a low wooden box in front of Kenshin,
just high enough for a convenient writing position. Kenshin propped his elbows
on the box, thankful for Kyosuke's thoughtful consideration, and reached for
the writing brush. "Alright, what do you want me to write then?"
Kyosuke pursed his lips,
brows drawn in fierce concentration, "Etto... the usual first Himura. How are
you tousan, kaasan, I'm fine, don't worry. Tetsuya, Michiru, Akari, are you all
healthy? How's tousan's back, is kaasan still coughing in the night, did you
get the medicine I sent you..."
"Slow down, Kyosuke,"
Kenshin interrupted with some amusement, "I can't write that fast."
"Aaa, sumaan, Himura !"
Kyosuke apologized sheepishly, then he grinned at Kenshin rather wistfully,
"You're so clever, Himura, you can read and write. I don't know how, only our
village chief knows how to. If you haven't helped me, I'd have had to pay so
much to those writers in Kyoto just for one letter."
Kenshin shrugged, careful
not to smear the words, "Shishou taught me how to, he said that he didn't want
to be embarrassed by a student who couldn't even spell 'Hiiten Mitsurugi
Ryuu'."
He let his mind wander as
he wrote down Kyosuke's words. As usual, when thinking or talking about his
shishou, there was a dull, leaden pain in his heart. For the hundredth time, he
wished they had parted on better terms. If Hiko Seijurou did not stop to save
him that cold night eight years ago, he would be just another nameless dead
body. And he had taught him Hiiten Mitsurugi Ryuu - the best in the art of
killing. Had given him one skill that saved him from being a powerless victim,
one skill that he could use to make a difference to this world. And yet...
It could not be helped.
They believed in different things, and Kenshin grudgingly admitted both of them
were stubborn to a fault. Neither of them would yield in their belief in what
was the right thing to do. He wondered though, knowing what he did now, if he
would have chosen the same path, given another chance. Kenshin gave a mental
shake to himself. There was no point in thinking of what might-have-been. One
could only go on the best they know how. But a nagging whisper persisted at the
back of his mind… no matter the cost ?
Kyosuke was finishing the
letter in his usual way, "...and take care of yourselves, all of you. I missed
you all a lot." He hesitated a bit, then added in a rush, the words coming out
in an uneven tone, "I love you all, remember that. No matter what happens, I
always will. So take care and be happy. Your big brother, Kyosuke."
Kenshin looked up at
Kyosuke somewhat in surprise, but the older man was looking down at the floor.
That addition was unusual, but if the man did not want to talk...
"Done," Kenshin said
aloud to Kyosuke, carefully blowing on the thin paper to dry the ink.
Kyosuke looked up and
beamed at him, "Domo arigatou, Himura," Whatever strange mood had prompted
those last sentences was no longer present in his face. "I'd better give this
to Taro-kun now, he's going to go back to our village tomorrow. He'll also help
me take some of Kyoto's sweets for Tetsuya, Mitchiru and Akari, I'm sure
they'll love it! A bit more of those medicines for 'kaasan, and some money for
'tousan. What, Himura?" Kenshin was shaking his head, smiling slightly at him.
"You're a good man,
Kyosuke. Any woman who gets to marry you will be very lucky."
Kyosuke's face reddened
and he laughed, slapping the back of his head, "What are saying, Himura? I'm
just a poor peasant, I'm not handsome like you, and I'm not smart or good with
a sword either. Women don't give me second looks like they give you, Himura."
Kenshin shook his head
again, replying quietly, "Don't sell yourself so short. In matters of
happiness, looks and skills don't really amount to much. A dependable man with
good heart is better able to bring happiness to his family." Something that I could not do.
"Hah, arigatou-yo. Ara,
Himura, are you tired?"
Kenshin had leaned back
against the wall, his eyes shut and brows drawn tight. His side was starting to
ache badly again, even though he really did not do much. His muscles felt tired
and heavy. "A bit."
"Dame-yo, Himura. Come
on, I'll help you lie down. You need rest."
Kenshin did not resist
Kyosuke's help. It troubled him how weak he felt and he wondered how long
before he could gain back his health. He rather suspected it would be some
time.
After he had helped
Kenshin get comfortable, Kyosuke said apologetically, "I'm sorry, I tired you
out Himura. I just... I thought it's best to send my family a letter before I
go. Himura, I have to leave tonight for the mission." Seeing Kenshin's
questioning look, he continued, "Remember what I said about the shipment? I'll
be ferrying our people down the river near the ambush point, maybe also join in
the attack itself. It'll probably be three to four days before I can get back."
Kenshin tried to get up,
his right hand instinctively reaching for his katana, "I should…"
"No," Kyosuke gently but
firmly pushed Kenshin back down, "you are most definitely not joining in.
You're too weak, you should know that. Don't worry, we have enough people to
roll over the escort." He grinned at Kenshin, "We might not have much skill,
but we have numbers. Besides, they don't know we're coming."
"But I can't…"
"Yes, you can.
Katsura-san said you're to take leave until you're recovered. And that's an
order. He knew you'd be like this, that's why he told me not to tell you.
Please, don't be stubborn this time, Himura. You really need to rest."
Kenshin reconsidered his
condition. His first instinct was to go by his friend's side. An ambush on a
military escort was chancy at best. If there was indeed something important
about this particular supply, odds were it would be heavily guarded, and most
probably with guns. That always left heavy casualties. He did not want Kyosuke
to be one of those. That possibility had obviously occurred to Kyosuke, it
explained that disturbingly worded letter.
So that's why...in case he never comes back.
But he could not protect
him now. Kenshin was honest enough with himself to admit that he probably would
not be able to walk to the river without falling on his face, let alone
wielding a sword in a fight. He would just be a burden to the rest. Once
decided, he forced himself to relax on the pallet.
"That's better," Kyosuke
grinned. "I've asked Mamoru-kun to bring some warm food for you everyday, his
wife's a good cook. The physician is coming back in two days time to check on
you. Don't move around too much or you'll tear your wounds again."
Kenshin forced a small
smile, "Go. Stop worrying over me like a mother hen. I'll be fine."
Kyosuke laughed heartily,
"Like a mother hen, am I? All right, all right, I won't say anything anymore. I
swear, you are so much like him..."
Kenshin blinked in surprise.
"Who?"
Kyosuke's smiling face
was shadowed with a hint of sadness. "Iya, nandemonai..." He abruptly turned
around, "I'll see you in a few days. Jaa, Himura."
"Kyosuke..."
The other man paused
beside the door, "Aa?"
"... take care."
Kyosuke's warm smile lit
up his whole face. "Arigatou, Himura." He stepped out of the hut.
Kenshin stared at the
closed door for a while. He had wanted to say - Live. He sighed and tried to relax. But despite his exhaustion and
pain, his mind was racing around too much for him to sleep. He could not push
away the worry that something might happen to Kyosuke, and he would not be
there to help him. Even though he only knew Kyosuke for less than a year, he
was genuinely fond of the older man.
The first time he had met
Kyosuke was in one of the safe houses, after one of the missions. Back in those
days, Kyosuke seldom went on attacks. He worked in the background, providing
supplies and equipment for the assault teams, and occasionally ferrying them on
his fishing boat to wherever they needed to go. He also prepared food, help
dress injuries, and basically did all the household chores for the others. He
never minded doing things that many men scorn as women's work. He would simply
laugh it off and say that he was used to helping his ailing mother care for the
household.
For whatever reason of
his own, ever since they met, Kyosuke had seemed to make it his business to
take care of the former hitokiri. And Kenshin had needed some caring in those
first few months after Tomoe's death.
He did not
realize it at first, but there would always be some hot food left in the
kitchen on those days when he would return to his room straight after a
mission, skipping food. Kyosuke regularly knocked on the door of his room,
calling for him to come and eat. Cold rebuttals and stony silence were blithely
ignored, biting rejoinders to leave him alone would simply result in a tray of
food left in front of his door. On those days when he went off alone and
returned bone-tired from a demanding mission, medicine and bandages would be
ready side by side with hot food on the table. Through it all, Kyosuke asked
for nothing back from him and did not seem to expect anything either.
Kenshin was still
cautious about trusting anyone again after what happened with Idzuka. But after
a while, Kyosuke's apparent good will and warm heart finally succeeded in
penetrating his considerable inner wall. He was not sure if he trusted Kyosuke
fully, but he was still one of very few people that Kenshin called a friend,
and he knew that he would not hesitate to fight to protect Kyosuke.
Although he wondered how
much that was worth.
The gods seemed fond of
playing cruel tricks on him; he was feared as one of the deadliest man alive,
and after he had changed to being a bodyguard he had done a good job of
protecting his fellow Ishin Shishi. But in all his life, he always failed those
whom he most wished to protect... starting from his parents, Kasumi, Sakura,
Akane.... and Tomoe.
Stop it, stop thinking like this again. It doesn't help, it
never did, never will. Stop.
The heavy mood was
smothering him, but he was helpless to escape from it. In the silence of the
hut, there was nothing to disturb him, nothing to distract his thoughts from
trudging down the well-worn path in his mind.
Stop.
His hand reached out and
clamped around the cold hilt of his katana, pulling it in to huddle against his
side. There was a certain comfort that came with the familiar presence of the
sword. More and more, he found himself reluctant to part from it. It was one of
the many changes he had noticed in himself in recent months. Subtle changes,
but telling. Even if he did not want to know what they were telling him.
The blanket was warm
enough, but he still found himself shivering. A familiar soft voice murmured in
his mind's ears, an image of her calm face tilted up to him – can you sleep
without a katana by your side?
Once. One night, when he
rested with a pair of gentle arms encircling him, and for the first time was
able to forget what he was.
Do you have anywhere that
you belong to?
A savage twist in his
heart made him close his eyes tightly, his body unconsciously half-curling
against the rough bedding.
Not anymore.
Times like this, he
wondered if everybody that he cared for would be touched by this curse of his,
to die a violent death with him powerless to protect them. He desperately hoped
that was not true. Sometimes it felt so lonely...
He crushed the thought
away - it had been that way almost all his life, he had learned to live with
it. People did not stay. And in a time like this, death was too common. He kept
most people at a safe distance away, was it to prevent himself from caring
again? And from hurting when they die...
The only person who had
ever reached past the walls of his heart was Tomoe. She had touched his soul,
and for the first time in his life he was not alone. And he had destroyed that
most precious light with his own hands.
He wearily drifted off
into a fitful rest. A phrase he had heard once came back to haunt him to his
sleep - misfortunes dealt by the gods can
be absolved, but those brought about by one's own hands are unforgivable.
***
The next day...
The late afternoon sun
beat down on the forested hills, cool mountain wind stirring up the fallen
autumn leaves. A trail of men and horse-drawn carts were making their way down
a deserted mountain road.
It was a reasonably
impressive entourage, around forty soldiers clad in leather armor, half of them
armed with western rifles. They surrounded the convoy of carts loaded with
sturdy boxes. Several officers rode on horseback at the front of the line,
setting a comfortable pace. They were well within schedule, there was no need
to hurry. The convoy was too big for any roaming bandits to try for their
precious cargo, and besides, they had been assured that none of the rebels knew
of their supply run.
He did not know that
carrier pigeons had been released two days ago to carry urgent messages to him
and several other entourages. He and his men were in between communication
posts, and they had no way of knowing the danger they were walking into.
Their first warning of
trouble was when the ground burst under their feet in a succession of powerful
explosions, right in the middle of the convoy. Over half of the carts tumbled
into the air in broken pieces, wooden boxes crashing heavily to the ground.
Most of the carthorses and the soldiers standing nearby were killed outright or
heavily wounded. Panicked screams from men and beasts alike, and confused
shouts filled the air as the rest of the convoy scrambled frantically away from
the deadly ground. Some of the braver ones tried to help their injured
comrades, which only added to the chaotic tangle.
The officer at the front
screamed orders at his men, desperately trying to salvage the disaster, knowing
there was more coming. His shouts gurgled to a stop though as a shaft of arrow
pierced his neck. He fell off the horse clawing at his neck as more arrows
rained down on the soldiers from both sides of the mountain trail. The distance
was too close for leather armor to save the soldiers and another ten men fell
to the ground.
The first few gun-shots
cracked through the air as some soldiers lost their calm and started shooting
wildly towards the mountain sides. Almost all of them missed as the ambushers
ducked behind surrounding trees. Order would have completely disintegrated if
not for the second officer. Riding low on his horse, he kicked and cursed his panicking
men into order. He had half of the remaining men with guns lined up and laying
a suppressing fire towards the left side of the trail. All the rest charged
screaming to engage the opposite side, those with rifles supporting their
comrades from behind.
Their attackers were
crouched behind the tree line, a motley crowd of poorly dressed men with no
armor and mismatched weapons. As previously instructed, both sides came down
the trail to hit the convoy with a flanking move. Bows were thrown down,
replaced by axes, scythes, and spears as they rushed down to meet the soldiers'
charge.
The battle was engaged in
earnest at last.
The first few minutes
cost the ambushers dearly as multiple shots rang out and men were hit sprawling
into the dirt. For a while, the last-ditch tactic worked, the line of rifle-men
shooting down attackers and slowing down the charge from the left. The rest of
the soldiers fought with the right flank attackers for all they were worth. The
only way for them to survive was to kill enough of this group before the rest
could attack them from behind. And yet, even though the ambushers were inferior
in equipment and skill, there were more of them. For each man the soldiers
killed two more took his place.
Then with a roar, all of
the left flank ambushers rushed towards the line of rifle-men, ignoring the
shots that whittled them down. At the forefront, a tall one-eyed man led the
charge as the ambushers crashed into the rifle-men, the katana in his hands
flashing red as he wielded it with lethal skill and ruthlessness. The sheer
momentum and brutality of the mass attack overwhelmed the soldiers and the line
crumbled. Order and discipline dissolved in the pitched, close-quarter battle, battle-fever and stark
survival instincts taking over. Again, superior number proved a decisive factor
and it did not take long before the soldiers were barreled over.
The main force was still
locked in a fierce melee when the left flank ambushers smashed into them from
behind. And the outcome was sealed.
***
Kyosuke swung the spear
in his hand in a powerful side blow. In the close quarters, the long pole
crashed into two men at once, Kyosuke's incredible strength sweeping them both
to the ground. Two Ishin Shishi beside him rushed forward to engage them, and
he was about to follow when another soldier armed with a katana jumped in their
place.
The other man's eyes were
wild with berserk rage and desperation, and he screamed as he brought his sword
down. Kyosuke blocked his overhead blow, the other's crazed strength making him
grunt a little. He flexed his elbows and surged up, throwing off the katana,
then he thrust for the soldier's stomach. The soldier twisted aside and slashed
for Kyosuke's head. Frantically, Kyosuke raised his spear straight up, blocking
the blow. He had a frantic moment to pray that the spear would not get cut in
half, then the katana hit his weapon with a vicious jar, biting half an inch
into the wood.
He saw his opening and as
the soldier tried to pull off his weapon, he tilted the spear and slammed its
lower end up between the man's legs. Not very honorable, but he was no samurai.
The soldier's eyes bulged out, his mouth open in a soundless exclamation, then
Kyosuke smashed the side of his spear against the man's neck. A sickening
crunch of bone signaled a crushed neck, and a man who had been alive a fraction
of a second ago fell limbless to the ground.
Before he drew more than
one ragged breath, a gun-shot cracked near enough for him to jump. Whirling
around, he saw behind him a group of men surrounding a soldier in horse-back,
an officer by the look of it. They were trying to pull him down, but the
obviously battle-trained horse was in a berserk rage, rearing wildly and
kicking anyone who tried to come near. The officer itself had a small gun on
his hand, trying to shoot his way through the mob.
"Get the horse!" Someone
was screaming above the commotion. "Get the damn horse!"
One of the men was clipped by a glancing kick from the horse and fell
with a cry, landing dangerously close to the stamping hooves. Kyosuke
recognized the man from a few dinners together. As the horse reared above the
man, he rushed forward without even thinking and slammed his entire weight
against the horse's side. The animal staggered under the force, its hooves
landing a bare foot away from the cowering man underneath. Kyosuke took the
chance to grab the horse's bridle, forcing it down. He panted as his mucles
strained against the bucking
horse, flinching as it snapped foam-lines teeth inches from his
shoulder. If he could only hold the animal still long enough...
Then he heard a soft click and found himself looking up a barrel of a
revolver, and the officer's cold eyes behind it. He froze Death stared him
right in the eyes, the black hole of the barrel expanding out of proportion to
engulf him...
Suddenly the officer
jerked forward as a blade tip emerged miraculously from his chest. The gun fell
from his hand as he reached vainly for his wound. The horse bucked again,
pulling Kyosuke off the ground and nearly wrenching his arms off their sockets,
and the officer was thrown to the ground. He lay limply on his side, a
wakizashi piercing him through from behind.
Kyosuke scrambled away
from the mad horse and dragged the other man with him. He twisted around wildly
for more threats, but all the ones standing near him were Ishin Shishis.
"Kyosuke!"
He looked around to see a
man striding purposely in his direction. A lean man with a distinctive vertical
scar running across his blind left eye. The leader of this mission.
Kyosuke had to try twice
before his throat could work enough to answer, "Kan… Kanzaki-san."
The one-eyed man came up
beside the fallen officer and prodded him once to make sure he was dead, then
he turned towards Kyosuke.
"Nice of you to hold the horse still," he
remarked drily, "but I wouldn't call grabbing on to an angry war-horse a very
smart move, Kyosuke."
Kyosuke could only shake
his head mutely, not trusting his voice. Kanzaki pulled the wakizashi out of
the officer's and wiped the blade clean on the man's trousers. "But thanks for
the help. This guy's the second-in-command. Wouldn't do to have him running for
help." He glanced over at Kyosuke, "Relax, Kyo. It's over."
"E..eh?"
He realized then that all
the fighting was mostly finished, the forty something members of the convoy
already lying on the ground, dead or heavily wounded. The surrounding area was
littered with bodies, not all of them in soldier uniform.
It was only then that he
was aware of his frantic panting. Not out of breath, but rather the frenzied
adrenaline of battle. His heart felt ready to leap out of his mouth. He leant
on bended knees, half-hunched as he tried to steady his shaking legs. Funny
that they only started shaking now, now that it was all over.
How did Himura do this? Day after day.
That gun… he felt the
late reaction setting in, magnifying his trembling until it rattled his whole
body. He clamped down on it as much as he could, feeling Kanzaki's eyes on him.
This was not the first time he had been shot at, but it was the first time he
had a gun pointed right at his nose. If Kanzaki had not thrown that blade, he
would have been dead now.
"Thanks, Kanzaki-san," he
croaked out. "I mean… that gun…"
Kanzaki slapped him on
the back, "Don't worry about it. When you feel better, come and help me over
there, eh?" He walked away, calling out to other men.
Kyosuke took deep breaths
and turned to find a patch of ground to sit on. His gaze fell on the soldier he
had killed earlier, the one dead with a crushed neck. The man's sightless eyes
stared at nothing, already filmed with death.
Kyosuke hurriedly averted his eyes and edged away
from the dead man. Cold sweat beaded his face and he sank to a rest leaning on
a tree.
"Please don't haunt me
later, alright?" he muttered up at the sky. "I didn't really hate you or
anything, you know? I'll burn some offering for you next time I go to the
temple. I know it's not much, but…" He trailed off miserably, feeling the foolishness
of his words.
Would the dead man hear
him? Some of his friends would laugh him off for being superstitious. Kyosuke
did not know if he was being foolish, but burning those offerings at the temple
had not been completely because of fear of ghosts. It was guilt.
Guilt that the other man
was dead and he was alive. And that he felt so relieved to be alive, after he
had killed another person.
What would Himura think?
The thought of the
younger man made him remember their last sparring together. Not that it had
been a real spar, Himura simply went through a few simple forms with him. The
younger man had shown him the move he had used to kill the soldier. Hr
remembered laughing with embarrassment at that low move, but Himura had looked
at him with those eyes of his gone all still and cold, and told him - You're not a samurai. You have a family back
home. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is to live. By any means
necessary.
Would the former hitokiri
think his guilt a foolish thing too? Kill, or be killed. Was that not the rule
that all kenkaku understand and embrace? Which means that the younger
man most probably *would* call him stupid.
Except that he remembered
Himura tossing in his delirium a few days ago, whispering something about eyes.
Did he see the eyes of the dead? Did they too haunt him the way they haunt his
dreams?
"Oy, Kyosuke!"
He looked up, startled
out of his thoughts. "Hai!" One of his friends was beckoning for him.
"Come on over, we need
your strength to move the boxes."
"Alright." As he followed
his friend towards the road, he noticed a few of the Shishis checking all the
downed soldiers. He heard a strangled sound from the side that was abruptly cut
off. Swallowing hard, he kept his eyes firmly fixed ahead, and away from the
torn bodies of men caught up in the buried ceramic explosives. Half of the
bodies lying too still were Ishin Shishi, men he had known. The hot wind was
thick with the stench of gunpowder, fresh-spilled blood, and worse.
A few groups of men were
poking and prodding at the shattered supply boxes scattered on the ground,
trying to sort out the mess. Kanzaki was standing beside the largest of the
convoy boxes, one that had miraculously escaped the explosives unharmed. It was
the only one of its size, all the others were much smaller.
"…better be worth it,
after all of this," one of the man was muttering sullenly. "We lost nearly half
our numbers on this ambush, Kanzaki."
"Shut up," Kanzaki
snapped succinctly, pulling at the wreckages. "Make yourself useful and help me
with this."
Kyosuke edged in to help,
tossing away broken pieces of planks. Straws littered the ground where the
boxes had broken open.
Straws? The convoy must had been moving armors or
weapons then. Only those warrant protection like this.
"Kanzaki-san!" A group
working on another box stumbled over to them, two of them cradling a large
piece of something in their hands. From the awkward way they move, it was
something heavy. "Take a look at this!"
Kyosuke craned in his
head curiously as Kanzaki uncovered the soft cloth tangled around the thing.
The cloth caught his attention, being thick and fine, too high a quality to be
used for covering goods. Then it fell away and Kyosuke stared along with the
rest of the men.
It was obviously a weapon
– but like nothing Kyosuke had ever seen before. It looked like a cross between
a small cannon and a gun, with a big barrel over two meters in length. Two
slender handles protruded from the end of it, serving no obvious purpose that
Ksyosuke could discern. Saw-dust and dirt slightly marred the polish of
brand-new metalwork, but it still gleamed with a muted sinister sheen. He
turned a questioning look at one of the men, who was looking a bit pale. The
man shot Kyosuke a look and said in a hushed voice, "Gatling gun."
"Kami-sama..." he
whispered in awed shock and fear.
He had heard the
whispered second-hand tales of people who had come face-to-face with it and
barely lived to tell the tale. He had never heard of gatling guns in seifu
hands.
But there had been
rumors…
"How many of these did
you find?" He heard Kanzaki asked the
men roughly.
"Et-to… five so far, but
we haven't checked all of them yet."
Kanzaki ran a hand down
the smooth metal, his remaining eye dark with thought. Then he turned and
started pulling at the planks that made up the large box.
"Everybody, help me with
this."
"But Kanzaki-san, what
about…"
"Will you shut up and do
as I say!"
Kyosuke was the only one
close enough to hear Kanzaki talking from gritted teeth as they worked.
One of the plank bent
under Kyosuke's hands, then splintered with a crack. From the gap, the others
were able to gain leverage, and soon one side of the box crashed down,
revealing the content.
Straw dust filled the air
and Kyosuke coughed from the lungful of dusty air. His watery eyes could barely
make out the large shape inside, something dark grey and filling the entire box
from end to end.
He heard a sharp intake
of breath from Kanzaki, and a few outright gasps from the others. It had become
very quiet all of a sudden. He blinked a few times and finally saw what the
others did.
Longer even than the gatling-gun, a muzzle wider across than a man's
width and more than half a meter across at the other end. All made of dark
steel of the highest quality as thick as his wrist. It sat there cradled in the
thick filings of straws, brooding and ominous in the shadows. It had none of
the smooth elegance of the gatling-gun, not even the grace of a well-made rifle
or revolver. It was a brute weapon made simply for smashing destruction.
This weapon, Kyosuke had seen before. Once. On the only glimpse he had
had of an iron frigate, flying a red and blue flag. Lying on the straw, it
looked clumsy without its wheel support. But he remembered the fire that had
spat from its muzzle, and the devastation that had rained down from it.
An Armstrong Cannon.
He jumped as Kanzaki
kicked the broken box hard. Their leader was breathing hard, his eyes a little
wild.
"How in...? This should
be impossible... they promised... Those bastards!!"
They all stared at
Kanzaki a bit fearfully. One of the men asked timidly, "K-Kanzaki-san?"
"Aa," he bit out, "Pack
this all in and move them to the boats. Move quickly! We don't want to get
caught by any reinforcements. And we sure don't want them to get these back, do
we?"
"Hai!" All the men
scattered hastily to right overturned boxes, collecting the scattered weapons
from broken containers.
Gatling-gun. Armstrong
Cannon. Iron Frigate. The three ultimate weapons of war. Everybody knew that
Bakufu had tried everything to get them, but they had never succeeded. The
westerners were quite zealous about keeping this bit of technology exclusive to
themselves.
At least, until now.
As he worked, he swallowed against the sick feeling in his stomach. His
insides were roiling like it usually did, just before something bad would
happen. The sky was bright and cloudless, but it felt like a storm was coming.
Unanswered questions piled up in his mind until he
felt like bursting.
Those weapons… why would they be here, in a secret shipment to
nowhere? Who had sold this to the government? How many more are there?
And the most important
question of all, the question that turned his mouth dry -
Will seifu start to use these against us ?
***
Notes:
1. Japanese terms:
Iya = no
nandemonai = never mind /
nothing
et-to = umm /err,
delaying phrase
seifu = government,
referring to the Shogunate here
kenkaku = swordsman
2. Guns (muskets and
rifles) were already available to Japan since the 16th century, and
has been used in the army for almost as long. The early models are
single-shots, and not very reliable. But it's quite common to see soldiers
equipped with rifles (thank you Serizawa Kamo-san!). Gatling guns and Armstrong
cannons were a different matter though ^_^. And steam ships were very difficult
to come by, although you could buy one or two from weapons merchants or black
market. Shanghai was one such black market. When Takasugi Shinsaku went to
Shanghai in 1862, he came back with a ship (obtained without permission from
Choshu leaders ^_^, a big stink was raised over it).