THIS ONE, Book 3: "Road to Rurouni"
Rating: M
Characters: Kenshin Himura, Katsura Kogoro, Ikumatsu, Takasugi Shinsaku, Yamagata Kyosuke, Sakamoto Ryoma, Saito Hajime
Other Tags: Character study, Historical characters, Original characters, Bakumatsu, Second Choshuu Expedition, Meiji Revolution, Battle of Toba Fushimi
Summary: Grief can do terrible things to a man. Kenshin lost everything he held dear, but Katsura Kogoro still needs his sword. Can he find the strength to fight once more? How will he survive the turbulent chaos of conflicting ideals, rampant backstabbing and power struggles that define the Bakumatsu?
Book 3 of This One, Road to Rurouni – in which the last seeds are planted for Himura Kenshin to become the hero we all know and love.
Chapter 30. Fan the flames
Kenshin woke up curled on the floor, next to the extinguished fire. The cold and his odd sleeping position had left him stiff and aching, like a crippled old man, but his head felt worse – almost like someone was pounding on his skull with a hammer. Thinking, hell, even blinking hurt. Ugh. Somehow he managed to put together a fresh fire and get some rice and dried fish boiling in the kettle.
Yet, it was strange.
The ever present anger, the overwhelming feeling of loss and grief didn't feel as strong, as close to the surface anymore. No, somehow it had been reduced to an almost bearable ache instead of a vortex threatening to pull him under. Oh, the pain was still there. The wounds in his heart had not disappeared, but now he was just numb to it all.
Kenshin sighed, feeling almost relieved. Idly, he stoked the fire with a log, only to notice the charcoal remains on Kasumi's top.
He stared at it for a moment. The fact was that he couldn't take everything with him. He didn't have time to let go properly, either. But this house, it had been his and Tomoe's paradise. The very thought of someone else touching anything in here, making changes to it – making it theirs… it made him feel ill.
After he had eaten, he took aside his traveling gear, dressed up as warmly as he could, and looked over the house.
No, he truly didn't want anyone touching it.
This house had been their home. Their happiness, the good memories, the tiny sliver of peace and normal life…everything had been born in here. Maybe he was selfish, but in this one thing he wanted to be. So he piled up their things in the corner; her bedding they had used so many times, her clothes, projects and possessions, and set them all on fire.
Outside, it was a bright day. Fresh snow covered the ground in white like a mourning shroud. Behind his back, smoke puffed out from the doorway of their house, the flames licking its windows, climbing higher towards the straw roof.
The fire spread fast, destroying their paradise and cleansing it through flames.
Yes.
Burn, burn with the rest.
Kenshin turned his back and started to walk.
Late that night Kenshin finally made it to Kyoto, where he met up with Katsura-san again. Or more accurately, with Kido-san, because apparently Katsura Kogoro had disappeared after the Hamaguri gate incident and Kido Takayoshi had risen from the ashes.
It was nothing but a polite fiction, but Kenshin accepted it easily enough. After all, he had known from the start that his leader was a two-faced man who used many names. What did it matter, adding one more to the list? Katsura-san was Katsura-san, no matter which name he chose to use or to which clan he claimed to belong at the moment.
However, he wasn't even given time to settle down for the night before Katsura-san sent him to visit a doctor, claiming that he looked sick. It was true enough, though Kenshin couldn't help but wonder what the point was in hurrying. It wasn't like he was going to die from his injuries, not this long after receiving them.
Neither Katsura-san nor the doctor seemed to agree with this sentiment.
The doctor was especially miffed that the stitches in his shoulders had been left alone for so long. The man unleashed rather unflattering commentary under his breath about countryside quacks and utter stupidity as he removed Kenshin's stitches, carefully digging under the healing skin. Because of this mistake in his treatment, the doctor opined, the wounds would scar in remarkably ugly fashion.
Frankly, Kenshin couldn't care less; as long as he retained the full range of motion in his arms, he could fight. Everything else just didn't matter.
The doctor's thorough examination had proved that he was reasonably healthy, if still somewhat anemic. His skin was far too pale according to the doctor and he had been ordered to eat more disgusting foods. The frostbite in his fingers and toes was healing as well as could be expected. However, if he wanted to handle the sword any time soon, the doctor had firmly insisted that he should tape his fingers carefully to protect the healing skin.
All in all, it was nothing Kenshin hadn't suspected.
When it came to the cut in his cheek though, it had closed well. He would always have the scar, made evident by how the fresh wound was now a raised, distinctly reddened line, but it shouldn't bleed like the first one had. If the old superstition was true, then maybe that meant that Tomoe wasn't angry at him? He hoped so.
The very next day Kenshin requested money from Katsura-san to arrange a burial place for Tomoe. Katsura-san didn't even blink before giving him a full purse of money and recommendations of suitable temples. Kenshin checked out a few of them, before choosing a quiet, tranquil little Buddhist temple in Eastern Kyoto named Shoren-in as her resting place.
Under his careful watch, the stone carver engraved the name Himura Tomoe in the grave stone. Every time the chisel hit the stone, his heart throbbed with pain as the reality struck deeper. This is real. This is final. This is the end. However, the stone carver surprised him by inquiring whether he would like his name engraved, too.
"It's easier and cheaper to engrave both names at the same time," the stone carver explained matter-of-factly. "Most people want to prepare their resting place next to their loved ones, so it's even a common request. We just paint the living spouse's name in red."
It was like his heart was torn open again and for a moment, Kenshin just stared ahead blindly, sorely tempted by the offer. Yes, if he were to die, he would want to rest beside Tomoe. There was no place he would rather be. But these past two weeks, he had spent far too many hours dreaming of death, yearning for the relief it would bring.
If Tomoe knew, she would be furious about it.
"No," Kenshin found himself whispering, stroking the diary he had hidden in his kimono folds, over his heart. "Thank you for the offer, but… I think my wife would never forgive me if I made preparations for my death."
"I see." The stone carver nodded respectfully.
The gravestone was erected on a small plot in the corner of the graveyard, near the courtyard maple trees. In solemn silence, Kenshin watched the monk go through his rituals and bless her rest. After the ceremony, he simply sat there for many long hours, keeping the incense burning as he thought on better times.
It was only when the sun was setting that he climbed to his shaking feet, bowed to her respectfully, and left with the promise to return again.
Despite the fact that Kenshin was not even close to good fighting condition, Katsura-san requested he stay by his side as a bodyguard. Apparently Katsura-san hadn't been back to the capital for long and he desperately needed to get back in the thick of things.
It was all-around logical and Kenshin couldn't exactly say he minded the duty, especially as he wasn't expected to do anything more than stay close to Katsura-san, sit in on meetings, and escort him around town. However, protecting an important man like Kido-san wasn't something just any shabbily-dressed country bumpkin could do, and so Kenshin had found himself outfitted again with better clothing: a formal, thick silk kimono and hakama, and a haori overcoat with Kido's crest on it, to signify his status as a close retainer.
Kenshin hadn't bothered to protest any of it, he just couldn't summon enough energy to care, leaving all decisions to Katsura-san. So he got fancy clothes, a couple sets of more discreet, everyday wear, new gauntlets to protect his healing hands, and finally, he was sent to visit Katsura-san's favored swordsmith, Arai Shakku-san, to refit the worn parts of his katana.
The swordsmith replaced the entirely of his sword's hand-guard and grip, as the ray-leather and silk had been bloodied and hardened beyond reasonable repair. The blades on the other hand… well, the swordsmith had sharpened them and oiled them as was proper, but hadn't held back his disapproving frowns and criticism, especially after Kenshin confessed that his swords had been left in their sheaths covered in blood and snow – after that day in the forest, they had never been cleaned.
The swordsmith's harsh reprimands were entirely justified.
In a way, Kenshin had even liked how the swordsmith had flat out detailed each and every one of his mistakes. No matter how it stung, it was easing, almost relaxing to be told what a failure of a swordsman he was. The blade was the soul of a swordsman, and it needed to be cared for. Properly chastised, Kenshin bought a new sword cleaning set and bowed in thanks to the swordsmith, a low and respectful gesture.
It was only proper… and these days, Kenshin had found some measure of comfort in polite routines. After all, the etiquette expected of samurai allowed him to keep people at a distance. He didn't even need to talk or meet people's eyes very often, not when polite gestures eased the way. And Tomoe, well, she had been a proper lady. She had tried her best to teach him better manners to the best of her capabilities.
Kenshin knew he was just a country bumpkin with a spotty education, but now that he found himself spending countless hours in Katsura-san's meetings with important men, he kept his eyes and ears open.
It was especially interesting to hear old men from the provincial clans speak. These dignified samurai of high rank, the way they addressed themselves or others, how their phrasings had an old fashioned, almost archaic grace... it kept drawing his attention. It wasn't just how formal it sounded, but the exceptional humility in their chosen words. They didn't address themselves boldly like young men, nor did they choose to use any of the politer phrasing he had heard Katsura-san using – no, these men said sessha, "this unworthy one."
The expression kept sticking in his mind, like a parasitic wasp digging under his skin. He wasn't a samurai, he had never been. But somehow, there was comfort and even beauty in the manners of samurai; he had admired it for the longest time, in Tomoe… and even before, when he had seen Master shake of his gruff temper and treat people with respect.
Besides, for the moment, everyone expected him to behave like a samurai. For them, it wouldn't be out of the question if he chose to use old-fashioned phrasings. At most, it would seem a little bit odd, but he had been always been odd.
And… it fit.
He was not only himself anymore, but rather him and Kenta together. And if nothing else, he was unworthy. So he picked it up and started to use it in the rare cases when his words were required.
Katsura-san took notice of it with a raised brow, but didn't comment on it.
The Ishin Shishi in the Capital had broken into dozens of little groups during their absence, supporters and extremists all with somewhat different views. During that first month, it seemed that all Katsura-san was doing was running from one meeting to the next, trying to garner favor and settle people's quarrels, reminding them they were all fighting against a common enemy.
Apparently Takasugi-san was doing the very same work back in Choshuu, albeit with more direct methods. There was a proper civil war among the samurai in their home province.
Kenshin offered to go there and assist in the fighting. Surely he would be of more use there than here, sitting behind Katsura-san and fiddling his thumbs? Katsura-san, however, didn't agree with his logic, saying that he was needed in Kyoto. Exactly how he was in any way necessary to Katsura's goals remained unclear… until one perfectly ordinary meeting between upper ranked Ishin Shishi.
"At Hamaguri gate, we lost face. Not only Choshuu, but the whole Ishin Shishi movement. That defeat made us look unappealing and our goals seem too radical, too reckless. Then the Bakufu took their revenge on us. They have hunted down everyone suspected of rebel ties… and there is fear in the air," Katsura-san said softly, taking a moment to trail his gaze across everyone's eyes. "We need to rise over that fear."
"That is true enough, Kido-san. But how do you propose to do that? We have some of our samurai and ronin in hiding, living under false identities or situated under friendly roofs… but the public opposes us. Our hideouts are raided, our men hunted as criminals. We need more support."
"We have all the support we could need, right here," Katsura-san said firmly. "The public doesn't love the Bakufu, it fears it. We can become righteous heroes fighting for freedom once again, but to do that… we need legends to our cause, strong fighters who will lure others to our banner and showcase our strength."
A torrent of disbelieving scoffs and raised brows followed that statement.
"And where do you think you can find us someone like Okita Souji, the demon child? Or Saito Hajime, the wolf of Mibu? Hijikata Toshizo?" one particularly skeptic man said, shaking his head in exasperation. "All you have is that new man Shishio and I can tell you right now that no one has ever heard of him. He might have the skills, but he has no fame. He is efficient, but nothing to sing tales of. To create a legend from nothing, it's too much work at too high a risk."
"The name Hitokiri Battousai is still spoken with fear," Katsura-san replied calmly.
Kenshin's eyes widened in surprise. So that's why… He hid his eyes behind his long bangs and clenched his fists in his hakama, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He couldn't say he liked where this conversation was heading, but if Katsura-san wanted to use the unfortunate fame he had garnered before… if it was for the cause, if it was necessary, then yes, he would do it.
A quick glance in Katsura-san's direction made it clear that his leader knew it, too. There was no hesitation, no doubts on his leader's face. His back was ramrod straight as he knelt in dignified seiza, one step to Kenshin's right and two steps forward.
"Battousai? He disappeared after the Ikeda-ya. I thought he was dead!"
"Kido-san… you say you have Battousai?"
Katsura-san nodded once, but didn't say more. There was no need to, because after that a conversation spurred forth.
"Battousai… that could work, but not as a hero," one samurai murmured thoughtfully. "After all, the rumors paint your Hitokiri as a vicious murderer. But to raise fear amidst the Bakufu? To showcase our strength? Yes, I believe it could work."
"Hmm, it has potential," another samurai agreed. "But to make it happen, we would need to control the situation and get the rumors flowing in our favor. Kido-san, this Battousai character… is he truly strong enough of a swordsman for this? We have all heard the tales, but those must have been heavily exaggerated. No swordsman can take a target and six bodyguards alone with ease, nor cut through chain vests and swords raised to block."
"Of course the rumors are exaggerated! That's the way rumors go. People add to them with every retelling to make the story even more impressive. I heard a version where Battousai was so fast no man could see him!"
"Oh, I heard that one too!"
"And what was up with the Battoujutsu thing? I seriously doubt the legitimacy of that, too. What's the point in using a dueling strike that often? It's foolish. No swordsman would use it in a fight against multiple opponents except as an opening strike."
Kenshin listened to the conversation with bewildered interest. These high-ranked Choshuu Ishin Shishi were mostly newer, younger men. They had managed to avoid forced seppuku by the grace of not having been important enough… most of these men had never heard more than the public about Hitokiri Battousai. Oh wait, there was one older samurai that Kenshin had seen before, long before the Ikeda-ya disaster.
He was a dignified, bald man with a long white beard. Ito-san was his name, if Kenshin remembered right, and a mischievous smirk tugged at the older man's lips when their eyes met.
Then one of the younger men in attendance whispered a bit too loudly to his contemporary, "Ha! I bet Kido-san doesn't even have Battousai anymore. Runaway Kogoro is just trying to raise his own status by promoting another man into the legend. It's pathetic. Look at his bodyguard, too. At least the old one, Katagai-san, looked like a man fit for duty."
Ito-san was sitting close enough to hear the spiteful comments too, and he coughed pointedly, cutting through the conversation like a hot knife through rice paste.
Silence filled the room.
"Nakamura-san, would you care to repeat what you just said?" Ito-san asked wryly. "If you have a valid reason to doubt Kido-san's words, I believe we would all benefit from hearing it."
Then the younger man, Nakamura-san, tensed, before standing up and shooting a hard look at Katsura-san, filled with loathing. "I am not afraid to speak my mind," he scoffed, obvious disdain in his voice. "Kido-san, I call your bluff. You are a weak man. A coward, who's trying to bury his failures and take over the Choshuu Ishin Shishi once more. Under your leadership, the Ikeda-ya disaster struck and many of our comrades died. The Hamaguri gate incident was your failure as well. But now you are back among us and speak of your Hitokiri, a man who was never more than a fairy tale for the feeble-minded, as the answer to our problems?"
Nakamura spat on the floor.
Every man in the room stared at Nakamura, before turning to look at Katsura-san, waiting for his answer. Katsura-san didn't even blink. It was as if the tense silence didn't bother him at all.
Kenshin though, he was getting annoyed on his leader's behalf. His heart picked up a beat, shivers raced across his skin as the tense silence stretched on. If this came to blows, he would defend Katsura-san, there was no question of that. He hid his eyes and swallowed, tracing his fingers along the hilt of his sword.
"The Choshuu Ishin Shishi needs new leadership, a reliable man to lead it," Nakamura declared. "How will we rise again if this weak, cowardly failure with empty words takes the reigns again? Look at him! With his new name through adoption, he tries to shave away his failures. He is not a warrior strong enough to lead. He hasn't even lifted his sword in years. In fact, look! It's tied with peace knots!"
The claim was true, Kenshin noted with some surprise. He knew Katsura-san was a capable swordsman in his own right, but for some reason his leader had secured the hand guard of his katana to its scabbard with intricate knots made out of delicate string. Of course that fancy knot wouldn't stop a determined draw… no, it was even stranger than that; it looked like the knot was designed to give in if pulled. Why? What was the point then?
Finally, when it was obvious Nakamura was done, Katsura-san answered, "I swore two years ago that I would never draw my sword again. I haven't done so. I have no need to."
The declaration sparked turmoil amongst the audience, but Nakamura grinned as if he had just won something. Almost gleefully, he boasted, "This is our leader? Ha!"
"If you doubt my words, my leadership… I invite you to attempt to kill me," Katsura-san san said pleasantly. "Please, by all means – attack me."
…What? Kenshin gaped in shock.
But Katsura-san was utterly serene, staring at Nakamura without an ounce of fear.
…Well, of course he would have no fear. He isn't the one who has to draw his blade against one of our own, but… oh, wait. So that's what he wants! Kenshin's eyes widened in realization. Katsura-san had lost face, credibility. If even their own allies didn't trust his word, he needed to show them undeniable proof.
"I think I will take your offer." Nakamura smirked and stepped forward, his hand on his sword.
These men, none of them knew him. They only saw a sickly, odd-looking young man whom Katsura-san had taken as his bodyguard for no apparent reason. If Katsura-san wanted to use Battousai's reputation, the work would need to start here.
So Kenshin concentrated his ki, the freezing coldness inside him, and felt the world slow to a halt.
Nakamura had started his charge, his strike aimed to slash Katsura-san open from the junction of his neck all the way across his chest. It was the basic scarf cut, deadly if it landed, but oh so predictable and easy to block.
Kenshin sprinted, dodging Nakamura's strike and stepping inside his guard, whipping out his sword in a quick draw – only to stop his blade at the last possible second. The sharp steel of his sword rested on the soft, vulnerable skin of Nakamura's throat, close enough that even a minuscule movement might spill blood.
Nakamura's eyes shot open as wide as saucers…
Shouts and screams of alarm echoed in the room as everyone scrambled in shock.
Sweat gathered on Nakamura's brow as his mouth fell open in sheer fright, and then a whiff of disgusting smell caught Kenshin's nose.
Ah, a true coward.
"I have no need to draw my blade, Nakamura-san," Katsura-san's voice remarked dryly behind them. "That is because Himura-san has pledged his to my cause. You would be surprised to know that in his earlier work for me, he developed the habit of using battoujutsu at every opportunity."
A stunned silence settled in the room.
Then Ito-san burst into laughter, his loud guffaws breaking the tense mood. "Maybe Himura-san has demonstrated your point clearly enough, Kido-san?"
"Indeed," Katsura-san agreed softly.
Without another word, Kenshin nodded, sheathed his katana, and offered a respectful bow to Katsura-san. As he returned to his seat, Katsura-san inclined his head to him in approval.
It felt remarkably good.
After that, ah, demonstration so to speak, Katsura-san didn't have any difficulties in convincing the other rebels of the merits of his idea. For the rest of the meeting, the men worked out a plan on how to re-introduce Hitokiri Battousai to Kyoto's rumor mill, and how to start building up his reputation as best suited the Ishin Shishi's goals. In the end, the plan they came up was this: they would discreetly leak information about a rebel meeting to the Kyoto Mimawarigumi, and Kenshin would be there to secure the rebels' escape and kill those who tried to pursue them, preferably using his signature battoujutsu.
It was a simple and effective concept.
Kenshin didn't doubt that he could do it and thankfully, neither did the others after what had happened with Nakamura. Apparently, he had moved faster than the eye could see; one moment he had been sitting beside Katsura-san, and the next, he was holding his blade to Nakamura's throat. It seemed somewhat ridiculous to Kenshin – he hadn't even tried that hard, but… well, Hiten Mitsurugi was known for its godlike speed. He didn't think it was faster than the eye, but then again, he hadn't seen it himself, not really. Master had always held back during their sparring matches.
Speaking of Nakamura, the boastful samurai had left the meeting early in disgrace.
The meeting finally wrapped up late in the night, plans agreed on and preparations set in motion. They were walking back to their current safe-house, when Katsura-san asked him quietly, "Are your wounds alright?"
Kenshin nodded curtly, even if he felt somewhat baffled by the concern. It had been six weeks since the New Year's tragedy. Sure, his shoulders were still stiff, his fingers were sore… but it was not enough to stop him from handling the sword. However, this wasn't the first time Katsura-san had asked a question like this, either… Was there a problem? Had he somehow displeased his leader?
If so, Katsura-san didn't show any outward hint of it, not in his body language nor his ki. Kenshin frowned, but left the matter drop. After all, if Katsura-san didn't feel the need to inquire further, why should he?
The fact was that he wasn't even close to his best fighting condition yet. The five months in the countryside had caused him to slip off his peak form, and the damned frostbite had taken away his callouses. He had been stretching and doing katas every morning and evening, trying to get back into shape. For this work… for war he needed to be at his best, no matter how little enjoyment he found in swordsmanship these days.
During what few free hours he had, Kenshin had taken to reading her journal, trying to ward off the nightmares and the recurring bouts of emotion that constantly threatened to shatter the calm numbness he had drawn around himself by merging with Kenta. No matter what he did, sometimes he would just get angry for no apparent reason, or remember something of her and then be swallowed up by self-loathing and guilt. He had visited her grave a few times, but it didn't help. Nothing did. He just missed her so much. So much.
And she was not there anymore.
Sometimes he would get lost in his memories. Those were the only moments of peace he got, so when he wasn't needed, he tried his best to avoid people, to get a chance to drift off in daydreams instead of enduring reality. He wasn't lonely, not really. He just… didn't want to speak to anyone. The numbness had eased most of the overwhelming emotions and helped him to keep thinking, to not be lost completely.
But still, it was hard to keep going.
"Listen up lads! Tonight's game plan is very simple," Ito-san shouted. "Like you know, our little birds have let our location slip into the Mimawarigumi's attentive ears. Those posh dogs are eager for fame, so you know they won't let this chance pass them by. We don't know how many men there will be, so be on guard!"
Every men in the room perked up, anticipation spreading through them like wildfire.
They were in a remote house in eastern Kyoto and other than him, Ito-san and six other Choshuu samurai were waiting to spring the trap. Ito-san had been chosen as bait, because he was well-known and influential enough that the Mimawarigumi had a warrant out for him. The others, well… Kenshin didn't know them at all, but he had sized them up and believed them to be experienced and trusted fighters, who were intended to be his backup if things went south. Afterwards, they would be used to spread word of Hitokiri Battousai to other Choshuu men.
However, it was obvious that they didn't know this… yet. At least if the nasty glances they were shooting at him were anything to go by.
"Yes, lads. There might be a good scuffle coming," Ito-san confirmed. "However, we are not here to fight. Instead, when we see them coming – we run. Head to Kawaramachi's meeting place."
This raised notable signs of displeasure among the men.
Ito-san only laughed. "No, no, don't be so disappointed! The goal here is to get Himura-san back in action. He has been on a little break, so if he has troubles, which I doubt, knowing his capabilities... you will be there as backup."
If possible, the looks the men shot him became even nastier. Kenshin didn't try to defend himself. So what if these men had doubts? So what if they didn't believe a short and sickly-looking man like him could actually fight? Kenshin knew what he could do and what he could not. These men didn't know him, they had never seen him fight. It didn't matter what they thought. The only thing that mattered was that Katsura-san had asked him to do this and if it worked as planned… it could help the cause.
Still, it was almost amusing when finally, one of the men recognized him as Katsura-san's newest bodyguard. That wasn't a duty Kenshin minded being known for.
Then they waited.
Kenshin settled against the wall, his katana propped against his shoulder at an easy reach. It was a comfortable pose, even if the wakizashi on his belt sat somewhat awkwardly. They needed to be ready to move at a moment's notice.
After all, they didn't know when the Mimawarigumi would attack, and they weren't even certain that they would take the bait at all… but they had prepared the best they could. The only thing they could do now was be patient. Kenshin closed his eyes and focused on the ki presences moving around them in the streets.
It had been a while since he had actively tried to use ki, but after merging with the spirit… everything seemed sharper, more defined. It was easier to use ki like this. Somehow, even the internal ki-enhancement trick seemed to work better. It truly was as Kenta had said, they were better together.
Tomoe's diary was securely tucked in his kimono folds, just over his heart – no matter how stupid it might be. He just needed to have something of hers with him. He hadn't dared to take the shawl, as it might get dirty in this work, instead leaving it at the Choshuu supporter's house where he had been staying with Katsura-san this past week.
Katsura-san changed hiding places every few days. The situation was still highly unpredictable at best and Katsura-san's position in the Ishin Shishi's ranks was anything but stable. Perhaps that was the reason Katsura-san was so determined to keep him close? Not that Kenshin exactly minded the protection duty… it was just that it would be easier if he could be alone, that was all.
Among normal Choshuu men, it would take barely any effort to be left alone. He could sit in his corner as long as he wanted, skip as many meals as he wanted, and no one would care. But Katsura-san, he always seemed to need his attention or his company in one way or another, dragging him to places and forcing him to attend good meals that he absolutely couldn't skip if he didn't want to mortally insult the proprietors.
Kenshin sighed softly.
Just yesterday he had visited her gravestone again. It had been raining, the last of the winter rains. Soon it would be spring. He didn't miss the snow, not at all. In fact, every time he saw anything white these days, his mind automatically painted blood on it. The brown and muddy scenery suited him far better. However, it had been sad to see her grave looking so desolate. Maybe he should bring flowers when they became available? He had never brought her flowers, even when she had been alive.
What a failure of a husband I was… Kenshin thought morosely. She loved flowers.
At the edges of his reach, a large numbers of ki presences were approaching. They were moving in formation, an organized troop that couldn't be anything other than what they had been waiting for. Kenshin cleared his voice, before speaking softly, "Ito-san, they are coming."
The old, white-bearded samurai didn't question him. Instead, he nodded with determination and raised his voice, "Alright, boys! You heard Himura-san. Let's get ready to run. The last thing we want is to get stuck in an indoor fight!"
Everyone stood up and though there were some mutters and glares directed at Kenshin, he didn't pay them any attention. He slipped his katana into his sash and rechecked the wrappings around his fingers. His skin was still prone to break when stressed.. and it was quite chilly outside, this late at night. It was better to be safe than sorry. The last thing he needed was to lose a few fingers through carelessness, then he would be useless on top of being a failure.
"They crossed the street," whispered the samurai watching the window.
Then the door was slammed with force and a shout rang out, "We are the Kyoto Mimawarigumi! Surrender and no one will be harmed!"
Ito-san grinned and made a shooing motion with his hands. The men grinned too, before charging out of the side door into the alley, shouting, "Protect Ito-san!" "Hurry! We need to get to safety!" "Don't let them catch us!"
It was quite a convincing ruse, Kenshin thought. He was the last to leave the house, lingering just enough to make sure the Mimawarigumi men saw where they had escaped, and then, they ran.
Mimawarigumi screamed at them to stop, to surrender – the usual foolishness. Why did they even bother? Everyone knew that the Bakufu troops weren't shy about torturing or executing prisoners.
The merry chase lasted for a while and it even seemed that they were too efficient in their escape, because the Mimawarigumi squadron was breaking up, the fastest runners in front, the rest lagging behind, but still, the distance between them was growing.
But then, Ito-san signaled at them to stop. It was a good place, a remote side alley that was narrow enough for Kenshin to defend alone.
"Surrender, rebels! If you come quietly, no one will have to die!" the de-facto leader of the Mimawarigumi squadron shouted. He was a proper samurai, tall and broad-shouldered. His ki was firm and steady.
Kenshin noted it all calmly, stepping forward, a hand on the hilt of his sword. Behind him, he heard the rest of the rebels surround Ito-san protectively.
"Please, withdraw now… or prepare to lose your lives," Kenshin said softly. Maybe it wasn't what anyone expected of him, but now that he could, he wanted to give these men the chance to save themselves.
"That is not possible, rebel scum." Mimawarigumi leader's ki sharpened in anger and he growled, "Attack them!"
And then they came, all of them charging at him with their swords at the ready.
It didn't matter.
Kenshin concentrated his ki… and the world slowed to a halt.
Quick draw, dodge and cut, dodge and cut.
It was so easy.
And though these men were well-trained and experienced, though they had numbers and strength on their side, he was just too fast. Quick draw, flick of wrist to rid his blade of the excess blood, re-sheathe and a lighting fast draw once again. Rinse and repeat. Perhaps it was stupid and illogical, but he wanted their death be as clean and close to painless as he was capable of giving.
He had cut down most of them and was just about to charge the last one… when all of a sudden a spike of pain flared behind his eyes, so sudden and violent that he stumbled and fell down on one knee.
The pain didn't relent, it twisted like a knife inside his skull and his stomach lurched, about to rebel. But he couldn't give up! So he gritted his teeth together and grunted, sprinting to the last man and cutting him open from left hip to right shoulder.
The blood splayed all over, the bone and flesh separating just like that day in the forest…
No! Don't think of that, anything but that!
He dropped to his knees and let his sword fall to the cobblestones, burying his aching head in his hands. The pain, oh god, it was flaring still – spots of light danced across his eyes as the bile threatened to climb up his throat. No, I won't throw up! I won't!
Once, twice, thrice, he swallowed time and time again, trying to steady himself. Yes, that's right, just breathe. In and out, yes, you can do this.
"Himura-san, are you alright?" A gentle hand stroked his shoulder.
Kenshin opened his eyes blearily, and looked up between his lashes. It was Ito-san… the old man was worried? He couldn't even hope to answer, not through this pain and nausea. The best he managed was to weakly wave his hand.
Ito-san stayed beside him, stroking his shoulder comfortingly, until the pain reduced to an almost manageable throbbing, and he managed to climb to his feet. The rest of the rebels had already left, leaving them alone amidst the corpses of the ten Mimawarigumi samurai.
"I sent the rest of the lads to Kawaramachi. They can get to their accommodations from there," Ito-san said calmly, like there was nothing strange about this.
Kenshin couldn't quite find the words, but he tilted his head in question and glanced in the direction where their men had gone.
Ito-san didn't have any trouble understanding his question. The old man shook his head. "I think I will walk with you to Kido-san's. I want to report our success to him. Besides, seeing how pale you are, it might be good to have someone with you."
An embarrassed flush crept onto his cheeks, and Kenshin looked aside. He had no idea what that sudden spike of pain had been, but all the same, he was grateful for the offer. He really didn't feel all that steady yet.
Thankfully Ito-san didn't feel the need to question him more.
Katsura-san was currently staying near the river in Okikucho, no more than a couple miles walk from where they were. There was no blood on Kenshin's clothes, which eased the trip – there was no need for them to stick to the shadows and avoid wandering eyes. For all intents and purposes, they were simply two samurai on a stroll through town, not worth noting.
They had just passed the bridge, when Ito-san asked, "I suppose you use ki to enhance your swordsmanship?"
"Yes, " said Kenshin, looking at the old man in surprise. How had he known?
"I have seen some men enhance their swords with it, to cut deeper, or sharper, but never have I witnessed it used like you do," Ito-san wondered out loud, before he noticed Kenshin's stare and scoffed, "Oh lad, don't look so surprised! Live as long as I have, have a lifelong curiosity about the sword, and you learn a thing or two."
Kenshin looked aside, properly chastised. It wasn't like ki was entirely unknown; many swordsmen used it intuitively, to sense their opponents, to read their emotions and predict their actions. Actually, some even called ki intuition, because that was the most common use for it. As far as Kenshin was aware, only Hiten Mitsurugi demanded its use internally, to enhance the swordsman's power and speed.
But this headache thing… it was confusing. Kenshin frowned worriedly. Perhaps, it wouldn't hurt to ask? He wetted his lips and hesitantly admitted, "There was this flash of intense pain behind one's eyes. This unworthy one hasn't ever felt anything like that during a fight, that he hasn't."
"To use ki like that, it could be dangerous," Ito-san mused thoughtfully.
Well, it was true enough. Kenshin knew the dangers of the internal ki enhancement trick, he had made mistakes with it before. But that had been a long time ago, when he was still a child, just learning to use ki with the spirit…
…but Kenta isn't here to use it with me anymore.
"I don't know much about ki myself, but to use anything as powerful, unpredictable, and wild as ki… I would imagine using too much or not focusing properly could cause troubles." Ito-san paused, before adding pointedly, "But that cannot be the problem as you are clearly very experienced with ki, yes?"
Kenta had been always there to help him control the amount of ki they used, but after their merging, he had become faster and stronger… maybe it meant that his control wasn't good enough anymore? And speaking of which, hadn't he felt headaches before, when Kenta had stayed with him too long?
Kenshin sighed with relief, and stopped to bow gratefully. "Thank you for your advice, Ito-san. This unworthy one knows now what happened."
"Well, I'm happy to be of assistance." Ito-san nodded. "It wouldn't do for the famous Battousai to have difficulties with his task. After all, there will be plenty of work coming for all of us if we want to regain our influence in the Capital."
It was the harsh truth. Kenshin nodded his agreement, but didn't continue the conversation.
The river was flowing beside them fast and strong; the snow must have melted in the mountains. Lanterns illuminated the pathway, glimmering on the water's surface prettily. The stars were bright in the night sky.
She had like the stars. The odd thought raised a fierce longing in Kenshin's heart once more. What wouldn't he give, to have her here beside him to see them!
They made it to the gate of the inn in comfortable silence, but instead of farewells, Ito-san had one more question for him. "Before we head in, I have to know… why the quick draw?"
"It's the fastest death this unworthy one can offer them, a small kindness," Kenshin replied evenly, before bowing to the older man. "Thank you for your company, Ito-san."
Betaed by Animaniacal in 27.05.2016.
