Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin.
Lesson 1
The sun's bright glare hurt my eyes. And it wasn't even noontime yet.
In front of a diner, a girl was announcing "today's special" to by-passers. As if on cue, my stomach started nagging in an increasingly annoying little voice: feed me, feed me.
Wait. Was I delirious from hunger? Where was that voice coming from?
"...sukiyaki, roasted chicken. Are your bellies crying feed me feed me? Come in and try our special! Hello sir, won't you come in?" The girl accosted me, thinking I might be a potential customer. She was clad in a fiery red kimono, which was hurting to my eyes as much as the sun was. Turning my pockets inside out, I counted the sad few coins I had. So few they were almost worthless.
"Do you need work sir?" She had a perceptive eye, I'll give her that much.
I nodded eagerly, "Yes. Could you please tell me where I might find work?"
"That depends. Have you been previously employed?"
"Umm...yes."
"What type of work have you done?"
Political assassination? Nah. Spying on people? Ehhh. Recruiting people for anti-government purposes? Doesn't sound too good either. So I settled with, "General labor, I guess."
The girl raised her eyebrow skeptically. I'd bet she thought I was bluffing.
"Would you be able to lift heavy objects?"
"Like rice barrels?"
"Uh huh."
"Been doing that since I was eight." Child labor anyone?
"Work outside frequently?"
"Not a problem."
"The liquor warehouse is hiring. My break's in 10 minutes, so if you'd wait, I'd be happy to take you there."
"That's great! Thank you so much!"
I was about to go stand in a corner and wait but apparently the girl wasn't done yet:
"Don't you have something to give me?"
I blinked. Give her what? What should I do? It wasn't like I bought something.
"Well, job referral service, y'know."
I wanted to protest, whatever happened to the olden days when people just refer you a job out of the goodness of their heart and NOT charge you, a broke ass wanderer, for it? But then it began to dawn on me. This was what others must've meant by the "real world", a place full of penny-counting opportunists who'd charge a price on literally everything. Money and commodity were not at all a problem when I was with Shishio-san. But now as a wanderer, I had to get used to "trivial" things such as running out of money to buy food, lice in my underwear, sleeping under bridges or just about anywhere. I've learned a few things since I left Kyoto, yet this "normal" life--if you can call it that--never ceased amaze me. Ordinary things suddenly opened up to me in a whole new and bizarre dimension. I really did have a lot to learn.
Turning my pocket inside out, I counted a few sad coins I had. "That's all I have left."
She clicked her tongue, "Well, I'll just take ten percent off of your first pay." From the bland expression, I'd guessed that she has been in business for quite long. Underneath the young face was the cunning quality of an experienced matron.
Later, the girl led me to a liquor store, where I was hired immediately thanks to her referral. They assigned me to loading/unloading and delivering orders. Jug after jug of sake was carried from the shades of the cellar and placed onto the wheelbarrow waiting outside. It was almost high noon and the sky was completely dominated by the blazing white sun, without a single fluff of cloud in sight. I tried to chase away the thought of myself as a fried fish in a hot pan of broiling oil and let the wheelbarrow be on its way. This worn out piece of transportation creaked loudly as to protest the outrageous weight it was being forced to uphold. It looked ridiculous, like a bunch of bulky elephants sitting on the back of one puny old horse. However, the store owner didn't take notice of that, or more likely too cheap to take notice of that. So hoping that the whole thing wouldn't crashed, I pushed on with caution.
"You're doing alright there, boy?" The old man walking along side me asked. He was sent to collect the money for the delivery.
"Yes." I didn't mind these sake jugs too much. After all, I was used to dealing with objects five times my weight when I was a little child.
It was just the heat that bothered me. I don't recall summer's been this hot before. No rain, no wind, just the sun and dust. On the doorsteps of a building, a dog was panting feverishly. Its tongue hang from mouth, thirsting for water.
A loud cry cut through my train of thought. We were walking by the market place. Over by the fish vendor, a middle age woman was cursing and flogging a boy with a bamboo rod normally used to ward off flies.
"Mama...I'm telling the truth! They took the money, please mama!"
"Don't lie to me! I know you took it. Where did you hide the money, you little bastard? You're just like that lout of a man, you don't worth shit!"
"The bullies took it, mama! Really! Please don't hit me!"
The woman promptly kicked the boy onto the sidewalk. The boy got to his feet and hobbled away. The bystanders, being bystanders, did nothing but watch.
"Please stop it." I held both of the woman's hands backward in a tight lock just as she started to chase after the boy. She was screaming and cursing up a storm, because I had come down too hard that I probably sprained her wrists.
In the back of my mind, I fought back the sinister impulse to hurt the woman furthermore. I did not know whence came the strange impulse, except that I couldn't remain impartial watching the boy getting beaten black and blue. Something stirred up in my heart...anger? not quite...or maybe a painful image of my own past was flashing by...whatever it was, I just wanted it to stop.
How could a mother be so cruel to her own child?
"It has always been like that." remarked the old man as we resumed the delivery. "Such a mean, spiteful hag, nobody wants to make trouble with her. She's been taking it out on her son ever since the husband died."
I was silent. The wheelbarrow moved steadily in the same pace as the trickles of sweat running down my face. They were salty. Much like tears.
At noon, the marketplace lapsed into recess. Vendors and haulers alike retreated into the scarce shades and enjoyed their short lunch break. Talks and gossips sizzled here and there, joining in with the cacophony of noisy cicadas. From afar, a moving red flame dashed through the streets and gradually came into view. I squinted my eyes a little. No, the world wasn't on fire. It was the girl in red kimono. She was carrying a stack of appetizing lunch boxes for those who had ordered their meals.
The sounds of lips smacking and chopsticks clattering was pure torture to the stomach of someone who hasn't eaten for...how long he couldn't even recall. My head was dizzy and felt light at the same time.
I was hungry. So weak and deprived of food I could barely lift up my hands. Maybe if I tried to withstand it for a while, the hunger'd go away. I truly do hope so. There are a lot more work waiting for me after lunch.
"Hello sir! Have you had lunch yet?" she asked. The intensity of red hit my blurry eyes like a punch. So right and overwhelming it gave me the impression of a human torch.
Immediately, the smile was up like a mask. Pride simply did not allow myself to be seen in such a pathetic, weak condition. I managed to nod with difficulty. Lying has never been so hard. After a while being exposed to the heat of her insistent stare, the smile began to droop a little, like a wilting plant that's been under the sun for too long. My eyes tried an aversion tactic by pretending to take interest in the nearest sight...two cats on a tree branch flirting with each other. Reminded me of Shishio-san and Yumi-san when they thought no one was looking. Such a...disturbing scene.
Why won't she go away? How long am I going to have to keep this up?
Sadly, the loud rumbling of the stomach soon betrayed me.
My cheeks were burning up. It was more likely caused by something else other than just the hot weather. The girl's eyes widened and suddenly understood, she ran out to somewhere and came back with a plate that contained five rice cakes.
I was so astonished that I didn't know what to say. The smile dropped completely as a peculiar sensation occupied my mind. Something I couldn't find a word for. Regret? Not exactly. Couldn't be. Regret was the sort of feeling that haunt you. Gives you nightmare. Makes you quake in anxiety at the mention of the incidence.
Regret does not cause people to blush like a ripened tomato.
This sensation has got to be something else.
"You must eat to work, sir." She pushed the plate into my hands.
Trembling slightly, I took it, "Thank you."
She simply nodded. In a blink of an eye, she was once again a moving red flame dashing through the streets in the midst of a hot summer day.
Dusk fell on the marketplace as the sun turned off its light and went to sleep. Most vendors have already closed up their shops early to escape from the heat. Glittering stars dotted the night sky, drawing up countless passageways for the wandering who were without a purpose. I wondered if there was one for me.
Stepping out to the street, I took a deep breath of the evening air. It smelled of salt and spoiled fish. The fish vendor couldn't sell all of the fish and her sprained wrists were giving her a hard time putting up the merchandise. She was mumbling curses as she gathered up the leftovers. Too caught up in her own burden, she did not see me.
A band of unruly youths passed me by as I rounded the corner. They were laughing and talking noisily.
"Kuro's hobbling like a friggin' cripple. Got your ass whipped again?"
"Hell if it matters. With all this money, I'm gonna win big tonight."
"Didn't your mama ban you from gambling? Where'd you get it?"
"It's fish money. I told mama I got jacked."
"No shit! And she bought that?"
"Hell no! But I got away. Some kind of bum showed up and stopped her. What a dupe!"
Their conversation stopped me on my tracks. I was stunned. Kids gambling. Abusive mother. The money supposedly been robbed. Who was the real victim here? My head whirled in a gale of confusion and bitterness.
What have I done wrong?
I shouldn't have interfered, should I? If I hadn't done so, the mother wouldn't lose her money. But...but she was beating him...like caning a dog...he could've been...I only did what I thought was right.
Why did right turn out to be wrong?
What is right and what is wrong?
I spun around in a fruitless attempt to stop them. They were already gone. So did the woman.
Only the smell of salted fish lingered in the air.
