Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and some company that doesn't belong to me.

Thanks Beriath for pointing out mistakes!

To dear reviewers: Sorry that I haven't had much time to work on the fic lately, being on the move all the time in India (and computers are crappy, too), but I promise a soon-to-come big fight scene. Thanks again for reviewing! Namaste!

Warning: There may be too much technology in this fic for Meiji Japan, just hadn't occurred to me when I thought up the plot. Fortunately, it's not crucial to the plot, either.

Kenshin's Brush with Art

Ch. 8: Artistic License

Harada seemed torn between the desire to continue squeezing and the desire of fulfilling Japanese hospitality. "What are you doing, picking my lock?" He growled, with a little less enmity. "Speak, or I'll break your bloody neck into five pieces."

Kenshin groaned internally. This was the second time he had been caught while trying unsuccessfully to steal the same object. Why this had never happened while he was assassinating he hadn't a clue.

He could worry about that later. The current pressing need was to disentangle the artist's claws from his throat links without hurting the frail man. "Sessha... "He squeaked, suddenly remembering the bathhouse tactic. "Sessha is an admirer of Kageaki Yoshi!"

These were the magic words. Harada's fingers unpeeled from Kenshin's neck like stunned leeches.

"You are his admirer?" Said Harada, a lot more reverently. "I see! You must have come to see his Final Masterpiece!" He sounded like he had been expecting a pilgrimage all along.

Kenshin rubbed his throat painfully. It seemed that agreeing would be the only way of avoiding another proposed visit to the Kyoto Metrop. Police Station. That is, if Harada hadn't broken his neck first. "Hai." He said, somewhat hesitantly.

"Do you know what it looks like?" Queried Harada.

"Oh, it's pockmarked all over, with corners like mountain spurs, a hole on one side and a thumbprint on the other side." Said Kenshin immediately.

Harada gaped at him adoringly. "Remarkable, remarkable!" He said, amazed. "How did you manage to know all this?"

"Um," said Kenshin. He managed to come up with a quick one. "Everyone back home knows about it, and how it is now in your possession."

"And where is home?"

"Tokyo."

Harada gave Kenshin an envious look that suggested that he, Harada Reizo, hadn't been blessed with a similarly artistic home. "Fancy you coming all this way just to catch a glimpse of the man's last work!" He breathed. "Your devotion surely put mine to shame. Do wait here, I will go get the key right away."

A moment later, Harada ran back to the study door, looking irate. "Mr. Battousai," he said. "This is most unfortunate. I wasn't able to find it. I usually have it on the table beside my bed, but I must have misplaced it."

"Oh!" Kenshin heaved a sigh of relief. He certainly didn't want to spend a harrowing night talking about pottery with this loony. "That's all right, Mr. Harada." He said politely. "We can see it once you've found the key, that we can."

Harada must have mistaken Kenshin's sigh for one of disappointment. "I'm tremendously sorry," He apologized. "I really shouldn't have locked it. It just seemed like a good idea because my son-in-law, Godzilla Furo or something, kept trashing my closet." He looked at the door longingly, and turned to Kenshin with a maniacal gleam in his eyes.

"I have an idea," He said. "We can go find a locksmith."

"Haven't they closed for the night?"

"Then we'll just drag one out of his house." Proposed Harada.

"But..... that's not very nice, that it is not." Sweated Kenshin.

"Of course it isn't," said Harada irritably. "But since you have already travelled all the way here from Tokyo, we can't afford to lose another minute. I know how agonizing it is to wait." With that, he dashed out the door.

"Wait!" Shrilled Kenshin, after the artist's retreating back. "Don't find the locksmith! Sessha has a way!"

"Really?" Harada's face brightened.

"Stand back...."

A split second and the flip of a sakabatou later, the door fell neatly from its hinges.

"Splendid! That was wonderful. How thoughtful of you to bring a sword, Mr. Battousai," yipped Harada. He snatched up the lantern and held it up high. "Let me show you the Final Masterpiece of Kageaki!"

The lantern light, however, fell on an empty space on the shelf.

"Oro?"

"Oh, no...." Muttered the artist. He staggered to the ornamental shelf like a lost soul. "This can't be."

Kenshin was likewise shocked. He hadn't known that that ugly relic was such hot stuff in the world of crime. How on earth was he supposed to steal it now?

"I say!" said Harada, recovering somewhat. "This is outrageous!"

"Yes, that it is...."

"What are you going to do now? I can't send you back to Tokyo without showing it to you!" Said Harada heartbrokenly.

"Sessha doesn't know, either." Said Kenshin, honestly.

"An artistic tragedy!" Harada continued passionately. "Curse these thieves!"

"Sessha agrees, that he does."

Harada seemed to be struck by a thought. "Battousai-san!" He suddenly clutched Kenshin by the shoulders. "Can you help me find it and punish the culprit?"

"Sessha would love to," said the redhead with a sigh. "But we don't know who did it, that we don't."

"With your help, I'm sure we can get it back in no time."

"Who is it?"

"It's a rival of mine named Niitsu Kakunoshin," said Harada, grinding his teeth in fury. "We'll pay him a little visit now. He's one of those lawless ruffians with a sword, so I need you to deal with him while I search his house. With your exceptional swordsmanship, I'm sure you can give him the beating he deserves without breaking a sweat. Let's go!"

He said all this like it's the most normal thing in the world, and an art fanatic like Mr. Battousai should have no problem understanding the need for direct action.

***

Chapter 9: Talk about Excellent Control