Chapter 8 – Ningenkankei – Part I
Family connection.
Sitting primly in the prow of one of the beached boats, a small red dog is the first to notice him. Turning its gaze from the sea to the approaching figure, it regards him seriously. Kenshin can feel it sizing him up, deciding how to respond to this possible threat to its territory.
Hopping over the gunwale, it lands on the sand already in a trot and efficiently covers the distance between them. As it nears him, Kenshin stops, ceding control to the creature. It trots unhesitatingly right up to him and begins its inspection, sniffing his legs and feet, leaving no fold of cloth unexplored, no patch of skin ignored.
Stepping back, it looks expectantly up into his face. Obediently, Kenshin squats, elbows on his knees, hands hanging relaxed between them. Another round of sniffing, this one including even standing against his back, front paws reaching up to his shoulders: the intruder has quite a tail, after all.
"Koro likes you. I can tell."
Kenshin looks up at the speaker. Poised above him at the edge of the boulders mounded at the foot of the cliff, stands a boy of about thirteen, head up, feet apart, fists on hips. Dressed in mompe, the narrow cotton trousers gathered just below the knee, so common in the country, he is barefoot, despite the harshness of the ground and the obvious conclusion that he had had to clamber down the cliff's face to position himself for this "ambush".
Kenshin stands, and the reception party continue its examination of him, one focused on his scents, the other on his appearance and mien. Wordlessly, they assess each other. Something feels familiar—they are not unalike, these two; the reserved, damaged, recovering assassin and the solemn young man with the too-serious visage, with the almost visible weight of responsibility riding his slim shoulders.
A great crashing and a landslide of rocks, rubble, and thrashing limbs announce the arrival of a third welcomer. This boy, younger by several years, shows none of the restraint of his companion. Before even reaching the bottom of the cliff, he's yelling: "Hey, nii-san, who's that? Is he an enemy? Are we going to attack him? Let me take him first!"
The boy has landed, astonishingly enough, not only upright and retaining a firm grip on the stick he'd been clutching, but in fighting posture: feet spread in hanmi, the stick held with both hands low in front of him, its tip angled directly at the base of Kenshin's throat.
That's a decent stance. I wonder where he learned that?
"Akinyemi, stand back. Put down that stick!"
Frustrated in his battle-plans, the boy Akinyemi settles for interrogating the intruder upon his territory, body and stick still in fighting posture.
"Are you poor? Your clothes are falling apart. And you're really skinny."
Such a forward spirit—in both, of them, actually. But how different they seem on the outside.
"I have been traveling a long time, it's true."
Kenshin notices the newcomer's unusual appearance: unruly, curly hair, smoky skin. True black eyes, large and round, with a direct, proud gaze.
His features… So different. He's not Ainu— I've never seen anyone like him. Another who "looks different"…
Breaking stance, Akinyemi begins to hop around, first on one foot, then the other, moving ever further along the beach toward the village, shouting questions back over his shoulder.
"Why are you here? Are you going to stay a long time? My dad died in a storm a long time ago. Where are you from? We live with Auntie and Shin'ichi. Is that a sword on your back? Do you kill people with it? Here's our house—Mom, come look at what we found!"
This last is uttered in a voice loud enough to carry throughout the entire village and echo off the surrounding hills. They've reached the edge of the houses—Kenshin had found himself simply pulled along behind the chatterbox and the stoic—and now stand at the entrance to a small cottage. Lining the short path leading to the engawa are rows of yellow aster and pink camellia. An enormous wisteria vine envelops the entire back of the structure and drapes over the low roof, and a sturdy, low fence surrounds the tidy, carefully-tended patch of yard in the front. The homey aroma of rice wafts from somewhere within, and Kenshin hears the soft scuffing of tabi on tatami as someone moves deep within in response to the youngster's summons.
It's taken nearly two weeks, but both the damaged boats are once again seaworthy, thanks to the guidance and advice of Old Toru. Grown feeble and blind with age and many sorrows, the old man was the heartbeat of the town. More evenings than Kenshin could have imagined, he found the final hours of his days spent at the edge of the little crowd of men and boys that gathered on the old man's engawa. The men smoked and discussed and drank and told tales, and the boys listened and punched each other.
And he's heard, memorized even, the heart-wrenching story—from Akinyemi; from Okito, Akinyemi's mother; from Aunt Maemi; from Cousin Shin'ichi. How the very summer storm he'd weathered further south had grown, had gathered what seemed like the whole of the ocean into itself, had coiled and condensed and waited, waited for just the right target, then had unleashed itself, all its pent-up fury, all its ferocity, onto the little flotilla of boats desperately, futilely racing before the wind to reach the bay in time. In time to beat the waves, in time to help batten down the village.
In time to live.
His mind's eye paints clearly the picture of the ravaged town and the thrashed bay, desultorily calm in the wake of the spent typhoon. Of the watchers on the shore, nervously hopeful at first, gradually resigning themselves to the awful, dawning truth as the days passed. Of the two battered shells floating lazily in on the third day's morning tide, scoured of all contents, not even a single net remaining on board. Shin'ichi himself had joined those who waded out to lay hold of the maimed hulls; had laid first hands onto one, the very one that had been his own father's, recognizable by his own name carved into its gunwale, the memory of that summer day, laughing under the strong yellow sun with his father as they mended nets, nearly crushing what little remained of his new-broken heart.
"Toru-san, have you seen Kenshin?" As usual, the youngster was out of breath from running, yet could barely keep both feet on the ground waiting for his answer.
"Boy, stand still! You cannot hurry the sun with your feet, you know." Old Toru knocked the ashes out of his pipe and set it aside. He answered, solemnly, "No, Akin-chan, you know I haven't seen him."
"Aw, Toru-san, you know what I mean!" Akinyemi pushed out his lower lip and shoved his unshod big toe deep into the sand. "He promised to train me this morning, and I can't find him."
Waves of impatience fairly rippled off the boy's dark skin, and Toru smiled his private pleasure to himself and lifted his sightless eyes skyward and said, "Shin'ichi and Kenshin took Koro up to the fields to hunt gophers before sunrise. They should be back soon now. Why don't you wait for them here?" He said this last merely for the response he knew would come. He wasn't disappointed.
"Wait here?" The boy snorted the words. In one step, he'd turned and bolted, the fading crunch of pebbles beneath his fleeing feet giving his final answer.
Toru had buried many in his time, and had lost much, but this, life's last gift to him, this boy with the unlikely name and the unfortunate history, this untamable spirit in human form, this Akinyemi—his old heart welcomed the warmth of this love.
Notes: I decided to pick names for their meanings this time, so we'll see how that goes.
"hanmi" : the martial arts name for the placement of the feet in a certain stable position, ready for giving or receiving a strike.
Koro : A common Japanese name for a dog.
Akinyemi : Nigerian (Yoruba tribe) name meaning "fated to be a warrior".
Shin'ichi : truth; firstborn
Okito : little wisteria tree
Maemi : smile of truth
Review responses: A lilmatchgirl: Yes, he'll be here awhile, probably all winter. LadyRhiyana: Have you been peeking at my notes! Yes, Akinyemi's history will play a part in upcoming chapters. (Also, be wary of trusting "happy interludes"…) Wolven Spirits: Ah, a new reader—how gratifying! I hope you continue to enjoy my story. Omasuoniwabanshi: You liked Koro, eh? He's modeled on Emily's little dog, a Shiba Inu named Shinta. I'm glad you liked the storm description (I'm always amazed at the ability of primitive peoples to cast themselves out on that trackless desert and make a living that way!). As for the boys, well, I have plans for them… moeru himura: It's a gratifying development for me that my reviewers have expressed particular interest in each of the boys. Each has his particular part to play in the story, and I certainly hoped they would come across as individuals, with distinct characters. And all that. lolo popoki: I hope not to disappoint in future chapters! There will be more plot than I am used to creating, so we'll see whether I can carry that off… Shirou Shinjin: You noticed about Akinyemi, did you? o.O Thank god I only have to write him, NOT live with him! And the storm, at least in my imagination, sort of scares me, too, even though I didn't dwell on it very much. Sirius: Thanks for the "clipped along" comment—you know how much trouble I have with even this much action!