AN: This is where the heavy stuff begins.
Warnings: violence, description of a murder and character going through shock
Chapter 17. The Black Envelope
Ever since Kenshin arrived in Kyoto, he'd been stuck in a state of wide-eyed wonder. The capital was large, far larger than Hagi, bigger even than Hiroshima. But what made it so remarkable was the people. The busy streets were filled with wayfarers of all sorts: the rich, the poor, people of every caste.
There were even real foreigners!
Barraged with so many different ways of speaking, so many different accents, Kenshin was having trouble understanding even the casual talk in the streets. He had spent all his life in southwest, where people generally spoke the same way. Compared to that, Kyoto was pure chaos. It was like the people were literally from all over the country.
However, what struck Kenshin the most was the sheer number of samurai striding through the streets. Among all those paired swords, he truly just melded in – even when he didn't bother using his hat. Some people might pause to stare at his hair, but only in idle interest that passed quickly enough. No, mostly people just ignored him. He wasn't even remotely the most interesting thing to look at.
It was oddly… refreshing.
All his life, people had noticed Kenshin in all the wrong ways. But here, he was no one special.
He truly liked it.
Kenta though, had been annoyed at him lately. It was understandable, as Kenshin hadn't had a chance to talk with the spirit in a while. Not since leaving the Kiheitai, actually. There never seemed to be a good time or place, that's all.
That had been true from the very first evening in the city.
Right after they had arrived, Katsura-san had taken him to an inn situated near the Shirakawa river and introduced him to the innkeeper, Okami-san. Apparently, a lot of Choshuu Ishin Shishi samurai were residing in her inn, and Kenshin was added to the roster. Then Katsura-san had asked one of the men, a stout and older samurai called Furutaka-san, to escort Kenshin around the town and show him where everything was.
Furutaka-san seemed like a kind and friendly man, and he had been a big help during those first few days. The city was just so large that if Kenshin had tried to learn the most important areas and parts alone, he would have been lost within the first hour.
After that, though... most of Kenshin's first month had gone into sight-seeing, learning his way around the town, and meeting new people. Not that he had really talked to or made friends with the other men residing in the inn. He just wasn't good at that sort of thing. And though the men certainly seemed nice enough, well… they were a lot older than him and seemed to always be in a group. It was just too intimidating to even think about approaching so many strangers at once.
What made things more awkward was that Katsura-san had warned him not speak of his future work to anyone, not even to their own men at the inn. It was very, very important to keep his task hidden as well as possible, and only those who needed to know would be told.
It was logical and Kenshin didn't have trouble keeping his silence, but the thing was…
When people asked who he was and why such a young man was there, Kenshin really couldn't tell them much. Just the fact he had been recruited by Katsura-san back in Choshuu and that he wasn't anyone special. Oh, and his name was Himura, not "boy."
So the summer days passed by quickly, with exploring and dodging curious people.
Thankfully, Katsura-san had been around the inn every now and then. It had been nice to see at least one familiar face, even if the older samurai was busy working and going to meetings with his new bodyguard, Katagai-san.
The burly samurai had been promoted to the post right after Katsura-san left him at Okami-san's inn.
Frankly, Kenshin had been put off by being so casually dismissed from the task. It wasn't like he couldn't guard Katsura-san, too! However, Katsura-san had calmly explained that it was to give him time to become familiar with the town. And then, when the situation arose... he would need to be free for his first job.
The wait was making Kenshin anxious, truly.
He knew what was coming, he knew that when Katsura-san needed someone killed… Kenshin's hand would strike the blow.
But somehow, when on one perfectly normal morning at the beginning of eighth month, Katagai-san came to ask him to join Katsura-san to tea, Kenshin still managed to be surprised at being handed a black envelope with a name inside.
Kenshin fingered the oddly colored paper nervously and glanced up at Katsura-san.
The leader of the Choshuu Ishin Shishi was looking directly into his eyes. "I need you to kill this man. He is a messenger delivering information. He will be heading to the Nanzen-ji temple this afternoon. Wait on the way and kill him before he gets there."
Kenshin swallowed, and then simply nodded. This is it.
The road to the secluded temple was quiet.
The spot Kenshin had chosen for his ambush was in a grove of trees surrounding the road, their leaves sheltering him from the sweltering heat. Nearby stood the tori-gate, guarding the beginning of the long staircase that lead to the temple grounds.
It was impossible to keep track of the time or estimate how long he had already laid in wait. He was completely wired, trying to focus on all flickers of ki in his sensing range. But so far, there hadn't been a whiff of anyone in the area.
Why am I so nervous?
Kenta, too, seemed to feel his anxious energy and it moved restlessly on its side of the wall, eagerly waiting for a right moment to slip through.
The sun was nearing the high position of midday. No one had come or gone by on the road. Kenshin was completely alone.
But why no one is here?
Shouldn't there be visitors to the temple? Or at least someone passing by on the road? This isn't that far from the main routes…
Maybe this place was chosen because it's so secluded? To make sure that there would be no mistakes?
...But if anyone came, how could I be sure that it's the right guy, anyway? Kenshin frowned. All he had been given was a name: Mochizuki Inoue. How could he actually recognize the man from that?
And just what had the man done that he had to be killed? Or was his death ordered just because he was a messenger carrying important information that the Ishin Shishi and Katsura-san needed?
No, that doesn't make sense. If it were so, I would have been asked to bring the messages after the deed.
So, no...
I was simply asked to kill the man. But, why?
Before Kenshin could think through the matter more, Kenta nudged at him. 'Someone is coming!'
And then, Kenshin noticed it too. A hint of a presence in the sea of ki, just down the road and closing in. A tiny flicker, really. Not worth much notice. It was hurried, but so unfocused…
The silhouette of a man appeared in the distance, walking towards him hastily, like he had urgent matters to get to.
It's the right place…
Kenshin glanced at the sky, checking the position of the sun – midday. So it's the right time, too. But how can I be absolutely certain this is the right man, and not some innocent bystander?
Frowning, Kenshin hesitated… and then stepped into the road.
The man saw him and stopped abruptly, putting a hand on his sword while loudly demanding, "Who are you?"
The words were a bit unclear, spoken strangely. It was like some of them ended differently, but nevertheless the meaning of the question was crystal clear.
"Himura."
Kenshin didn't know why he answered. Maybe it was because he still kept expecting a tongue lashing from Master every time he didn't answer a direct question…
In front of Kenshin, the man relaxed and let his hand fall off his sword. "Get out the way then, idiot!"
And he started walking towards Kenshin.
What…? This isn't how it's supposed to go! Hey…!
"Are you Mochizuki Inoue-san?" Kenshin asked hesitantly, a bit annoyed by the man's easy dismissal of him.
The man stopped again, and gave him a weird look. "Yeah... what of it, kid?"
…This is the right man... the right spot and the right time. So, now I will have to kill him...?
'Focus' Kenta whispered, nudging at him encouragingly. 'We can do this.'
Kenshin swallowed, and drew his sword.
The man, Mochizuki-san, immediately gripped his sword too, stepping into a nondescript fighting stance. "What the hell is going on, kid? Just let me pass and I won't have to hurt you."
Kenshin looked directly at the man, and tried to gather his resolve. Katsura-san told me to do this. He asked me if I could do this, and I've always boasted that yes, I can. I have been training my whole life for this.
But why does it feel so difficult?
"I have been told to kill you." Kenshin tried to explain to the man, desperately buying time.
Mochizuki laughed. "You? You have been told to kill me?"
"Yes." Kenshin answered, and blushed in embarrassment. This really isn't going like I thought it would.
All of the sudden, the man's ki focused and aimed at him. It was ridiculously weak compared to Master. Even when compared to Takasugi-san or Katsura-san, it didn't feel like much... but it was deadly serious.
And then Mochizuki growled, "If you don't get out of the way, I will kill you. Kid or not… if you are here with that purpose you must have been sent by those Ishin Shishi terrorists. My lord will be pleased when I will bring him your head."
When the man saw no answer to his threat, he charged with his sword held high, obviously going for the standard kesarigi – the scarf cut to the shoulder.
For Kenshin, it was like seeing things in slow motion: the movements, the intent – everything in the attack was almost pathetically sluggish. Instantly, Kenta pushed ki through to his side of the wall, and Kenshin felt it trickling in and focused…
He dodged the strike to the side, dashed around…
Mochizuki turned a bit, tried to see where he had gone… but he didn't know enough to look up. Kenshin was already coming down from his high leap with a perfect Ryu Tsui Sen aimed to the head.
The blade cut, cut…
…and cut, until it stopped to the middle of Mochizuki's chest.
A thud.
Reflexively, Kenshin twisted the blade lodged between the cartilages and bones and pulled – blood sprouted out.
Oh… that's what it looks like when my favorite strike hits a man, Kenshin idly observed. The corpse's head and upper chest were cleanly cleaved through, and there was a pool of blood and bits of other miscellaneous matter he couldn't even begin to name spreading on the ground.
Why can't I feel a thing? Or hear, or smell anything? It felt like Kenshin was encased in a cocoon, blocking everything out. He turned to look at the sky…
Then the tangy, familiar smell of blood hit him in a monster wave… Oh god, it's flowing in through my nose… What's blocking my throat? Why can't I breathe? Kenshin slapped a hand to his mouth and nose trying desperately to stop the invading smell.
'Breathe... breathe….'
It was Kenta..?
Petting comfort feeling.
Oh god!
Inhale…
Exhale…
Petting comfort feeling just continued.
Inhale... exhale…
'Yes.'
I... this isn't too hard. Kenshin thought as he got into the rhythm of breathing. I can do this.
Above him, the sky was so clear.
Then, Kenta nudged him, again. 'Focus! Another one is coming!'
Running steps from behind him, and then an unfamiliar voice shouted, "Hey, you!"
Kenshin turned to look at the approaching man. He was a stranger, a tall, older man with short, messy beard stubble shading his face. His ki didn't feel like a threat at all, it was so weak and unfocused, wavering... no, he definitely wasn't a fighter.
"Who are you?" Is that my voice? It's… so weak and breathless. That doesn't sound anything like me.
"I'm Iizuka, examiner of assassinations," the man answered promptly, utterly confident as he crouched down to check the body. "This is your first assignment, right? Hold yourself together."
Examiner of assassinations, huh?
What's he doing? Ugh, is he actually pinning something to the body..?
Huh. A paper, painted with ink…
"There are some who become insane or make themselves sick after their first job," the man continued with the same tone, not caring about Kenshin's silent perusal at all. The paper read Tenchuu – divine justice. A call sign of the Ishin Shishi, or so Kenshin had heard from listening to the rumors and talk in the streets.
So, he is a comrade, then?
Focusing, Kenshin tried to think an answer to the man's roundabout question. "I'm fine. I'm stronger than I thought."
And it was true, for when all was said and done, it was done; here was a corpse at his feet as a proof. The living memories that Kenshin had been half-afraid might appear hadn't plagued him at all. He hadn't felt anything, really.
Just that slight difficulty with breathing, but Kenta had helped him through it.
Then the man, Iizuka-san, rose up and faced him properly. "Good. You need to be quick, accurate, and certain for this work." He winked conspiratorially and offered him a bunch of paper.
Why?
Oh...
Only now, Kenshin noticed that his sword was still covered in blood. Didn't Master used to always wipe his sword after killing? Yes, that's right…
"The blood can easily rust the blade and destroy even the finest steel. Only a dishonorable man doesn't care for his sword. Remember this, if nothing else: the katana might be a simple weapon, but it's a swordsman's only protection and his most important possession. Without it, you are nothing. So care for your steel well and it will serve you faithfully."
"There is no point staying around after the work is done, so let's get the hell out of here."
…Dazed, Kenshin accepted the offered bunch of paper and carefully wiped the blade clean before sheathing it. Glancing up, he noted Iizuka-san looking at him expectantly a few paces away, already ready to go.
Oh, right… Kenshin nodded, and followed.
Iizuka-san escorted him all the way to the gates of the inn, before dismissing him with the explanation that he would need to report the successful completion of the job right away to Katsura-san. Lastly, the examiner remarked, with a pointed look at Kenshin's chest, that a bath would be wise.
Kenshin was completely befuddled by the remark... before glancing down, that is.
His dark blue kimono had tiny, dark droplets sprayed all over it. They couldn't be anything else but blood. It wasn't enough to obviously drench the cloth, but some of it had trickled down his chest and spread with his sweat.
Suddenly, a feeling of utter disgust swept over him and the smell of blood started to fog his nostrils again. Kenshin closed his eyes, and covered his face in his hands, trying to concentrate on breathing: in and out… in and out.
How come I didn't notice the blood before?
Oh god…. I need to get these clothes off, off, off – now!
Right NOW!
Kenshin hurried to the backyard of the inn, to the furo and the well next to it. It was only afternoon, so the water in the bathhouse would be cold. Far too cold for most people to bathe, but it didn't matter, not when he was covered in blood.
Oh god… it's flowing down my skin...! Kenshin hastily tugged at the cloth of his kimono, but the ties wouldn't loosen like they were supposed to!
His lifeblood on me, by my hand…!
Suddenly Kenshin couldn't take the feeling any longer, and just dumped the bucket of cold well water right over his head. Just like that. It drenched all of his clothes.
Rapid inhales and exhales.
Calm down, idiot!
No, no... why can't I stop shaking?
Kenshin drew another bucket, and dumped it over his head... and another.
And another.
It took quite a while before Kenshin managed to get his shaking under control, but by then other issues became his priority. The slimy feeling of blood on his skin hadn't left, so Kenshin dashed inside the inn through the back door, ghosting along the empty corridors to his room in search of a change of clothes.
Back in the bathhouse, this time he actually managed to pry open the wet ties of the sash and bindings of his hakama, followed quickly by the rest of his clothing. The soap that was available in the bathhouse was of good quality, but even though Kenshin kept scrubbing himself, time and time again, he never felt clean.
When he finally managed to get dressed in his fresh set of clothes… he couldn't help but notice the wet and bloody bundle on the floor.
At the sight, shivers raced through him... bringing a feeling of gut-wrenching shame along with them. He didn't know why, he just had to get the clothes clean, too. He dragged another bucket of cold well water and began washing his dirtied kimono in it. However, it didn't help much, not even when Kenshin scrubbed and scrubbed. It seemed like the dark red droplets had seeped into the cloth and stained.
The sun was lowering in the sky, the shadows growing longer.
And suddenly, Kenshin couldn't see any difference between the stain and the cloth, the colors fading into sameness in the dark of the dusk.
Huh, it's evening.
…Already?
How long have I been here? Kenshin blinked owlishly, and for the first time in hours noticed his surroundings. Behind the courtyard's fence, the sounds of city-life echoed and the lanterns were being lit. At the inn, people were moving.
Kenshin swallowed. Still feeling out of it, he glanced down. His hands were all wrinkly... and his skin felt very tender and dry.
Why didn't I notice before?
But the clothes... If he squinted, he could still make out traces of bloodstains.
Why..? Why couldn't they just wash out?
"Himura-kun, what are you doing out here?"
Kenshin jumped like a scared cat, spinning around, only to see the old lady that kept the inn – Okami-san – looking worriedly at him from the doorway.
He glanced aside, already reddening in embarrassment. It was beyond the pale for him to be caught by surprise, not to mention to be found lacking in the chore he had been doing for years… but she might have an idea of what to do about the stains. "I am trying to wash my kimono."
The old lady walked to him, "Why? Don't tell me you have forgotten where to put out the laundry for us to take care of it. Laundry is not a man's job."
Oh, right… Kenshin stood up, and clutched the wet kimono in his hands. If it were possible to be even more embarrassed, right then he would have been. It was absolutely mortifying to be admonished by the kind old lady.
"It's just, there was blood and I wanted to get it off…" He trailed awkwardly.
"Well, hand me those and I will take care of it. Now, in you go, Himura-kun. The dinner is waiting." And with those words, the innkeeper took the bundle of clothes from his hands, wrung out the excess water, and headed back inside muttering under her breath.
Kenshin stared at her back, shuffling his feet uncertainly.
Food? Now..?
Right then, the last thing on Kenshin's mind was eating! But in the inn, the dinner was served at specified times. So, hesitantly, he headed back in.
His last meal had been a scant breakfast over a half a day ago. By now, Kenshin should have been ravenously hungry, but he just... wasn't. For some reason, the food tasted bland and unappetizing. It didn't make sense. So far, every single meal at the inn had been excellent and even now, all around him, the other men were talking freely and eating with gusto.
Yet, for the life of him... Kenshin couldn't manage a bite.
However, if he didn't eat, he would definitely feel worse. Kenshin knew hunger intimately and he knew exactly how bad he would feel if he didn't eat. So slowly, he forced himself to swallow, chewing every single mouthful thoroughly and washing it down with tea.
Thankfully, no one paid any attention to him and he managed to get almost a quarter of his tray down by the time the dinner was finished.
It was too late to head out into town. However, Kenshin didn't have anything else to do, not really. So hesitantly, he headed upstairs to his corner room.
Why do I feel so restless?
Perhaps, he could have gone to do his kata in the backyard – it was something he did every now and then. But for some reason, the very thought of picking up his sword felt very distasteful.
I love my sword.
I love swordsmanship.
I love doing the kata.
These were facts of which Kenshin was dead certain. Yet, right now, he couldn't bring himself to pick up his sword and head back outside.
Feeling exhausted and oddly out of balance, like he was somehow ill-fitting even in the empty room, Kenshin glanced at his thick, soft bedding. It lay neatly-folded in the corner of the room. So far, he hadn't managed to use it even once. No matter how inviting it looked, he hadn't managed to relax when lying down, not when there were always so many people around. It didn't feel safe.
Just the mere thought of trying again, being keyed-up like this... it felt laughable.
Kenshin sighed, finally settling to sit against the stack of books piled near the wall, just underneath the window sill. The solid wall of books felt comforting against his back. He propped his katana against his shoulder, at an easy reach, and turned to stare at the horizon.
The sun had set. Already, a few stars could be seen among the dark hues of blue. It was calming… perhaps? At least it didn't feel quite like something was crawling inside his skin anymore.
Today… I killed a man.
I killed a man I didn't know, just because I was told to do it. And I actually did it, just like I promised I would.
And it was easy.
Well, the actual killing at least. But the start… Kenshin scowled at the embarrassing memory.
I just wanted to be absolutely sure I had the right guy!
But when he saw me, he didn't take me seriously at all. Just because I happen to be bit young and slightly short… He didn't believe I was a killer.
Kenshin closed his eyes, and let out a long, exhausted sigh.
…But when Mochizuki realized I was part of Ishin Shishi, he just attacked. Just like that, and I just reacted with Kenta, and…
Thank god he had Kenta! Because without the spirit... What if Iizuka-san had seen me freaking out after the kill?
Then, no one would take me seriously for sure!
"Thank you,' Kenshin though to the spirit with more than a little bit of relief. Kenta nudged him back, sending the petting feeling. The spirit was his best friend, truly. It stayed by his side through thick and thin, just like it always had...
I was so sure I could kill. I boasted about it, god knows how many times. But when I smelled the blood… it was just like drowning in a tsunami.
No living memories, just that awful sticky feeling and the smell of blood.
Kenshin gritted his teeth, and hugged his arms around himself, hating this weakness of his already.
It's just blood – what's so special about it?!
I'm not a little kid anymore!
It was embarrassing to have such a strong reaction to a simple odor. Especially one that wasn't even very strong.
After all, all men could kill.
Kenshin, too, had the skill for it. And now, he had promised to lend his strength to the Ishin Shishi. To Katsura-san.
I need to be stronger than this – I can't afford to break down! Especially not over a little thing like this! I'm not the little kid I was when I killed those samurai in Settsu. I'm not a pathetic little slave either!
I can kill!
I'm a fighter! A soldier! Just like the rest of the men here.
Kenshin bit his lip, and with his knuckles bleeding white from the sheer force with which he gripped the blade, he drew it from its sheath by a handspan.
The steel was clean.
He tilted it slightly, just enough to see his reflection. His pale, unnatural eyes were narrowed in determination.
Good.
I can do this. I can lend my sword to Katsura-san.
So Kenshin closed his eyes, determined to fall asleep.
AN2: Edited by Animaniacal-laughter. Thank you for your good work!
