Warnings: discussion of period typical pederasty. It's only mentioned. Nothing happens. Well, nothing but the fact that Kenshin's ignorance bites him in the ass. ^^*
Chapter 33. A trap of his own making
Some weeks later, Kenshin was cleared for light duties. So his time was spent escorting and guarding Katsura-san and whenever the need arose, he would run miscellaneous errands. As long as he didn't push it, the doctor said that his thigh should heal without complications. Likewise, his anemia had all but disappeared and he was given permission to eat normal foods. Well, except that there was always a lot of it and there was always someone to remind him to eat more. Even Katsura-san kept commenting on his eating habits, which was rather embarrassing. However, if there was one good thing that came out of it, it was that Kenshin managed to gain some good, healthy weight and the muscles in his arms and chest got some definition.
Another bit of good news was that the negotiations between Satsuma and Choshuu had progressed to the point that the first shipment of western rifles was sent to Choshuu as a show of good faith. If everything went as planned and Takasugi-san gave his approval, the negotiations for an alliance would proceed and more people could be brought into the dealings.
However, the successes that Katsura-san had achieved had solidified his position within the Ishin Shishi leadership and as a result, there was really no point for him to keep a good resource like Hitokiri Battousai on simple bodyguard duty.
So in midsummer, Kenshin was placed under Ito-san's command, to participate in missions as a skirmisher and to protect their men as need be. This of course meant that Kenshin was again rooming with other rebel samurai and ronin in a Choshuu-patronized inn. The men were pleasant enough folk and they welcomed him into their ranks with only slight reservation. They all seemed to be aware of his work at Katsura-san's side and of his identity as Hitokiri Battousai, but instead of being outright wary of him based on hearsay, they seemed to be willing to take him on his own merits.
Some of them even made an effort to invite him into their company during the first few evenings and Kenshin, well, he did try… but despite his best effort, whenever he needed to converse with a group of people or even spend time with them, he got exhausted. It was far easier to be alone. So after a while, Kenshin just gave up on it.
His days settled into a routine; he would spend his nights working, escorting men or shipments or just guarding meetings. His days were spent napping against the wall, curled around his sword. Whenever he was awake and not needed, he would retreat to a private corner and simply stare into space, remembering her. In the morning, he would run through his katas with tireless, mechanical grace, well, up until he gained an audience. For some reason the admiring glances he got from his comrades didn't sit right with him. He was a killer, pure and simple. Why would anyone want to look up to him?
Every now and then, Ito-san would visit the inn to give them instructions for a job. For some reason, though, he would always seek Kenshin out and engage him in a conversation, sharing humorous tidbits, news, and just generally talking with him. Kenshin didn't rebuff him. For one, Ito-san was his superior and it was very different to turn down a man who was responsible for your missions and pay, and reported to Katsura-san, than to turn down just another samurai with whom you happened to room… and, well, he did like the old man.
Ito-san didn't hesitate to call out him for stupidity or to criticize him, but the way the old man did it reminded him a bit of Master – well, without the sarcasm and cynical tone. So yes, if he was perfectly honest, Kenshin could admit he enjoyed these occasional friendly visits. And the thing was, it wasn't special treatment or anything. It was just Ito-san's leadership style; he talked with everybody and despite it… or maybe because of it, all the men at the inn seemed to like Ito-san.
One evening after his bath, Kenshin was working her comb through his long hair, trying to make some order of the mess. It was getting a bit too long, and quite ratty. The ends were split multiple times, dry, and he kept finding annoying, matted knots. Just how had she made his hair so nice back then? Her elegant hands had made this simple duty feel good and comforting, but he couldn't even manage to do it without causing himself pain. Kenshin sighed morosely, somewhat annoyed by the sheer number of tangles his comb seemed to find. Perhaps he should try to remember to do this more often?
"…be that Ito-san is mentoring you?" A low, rumbling voice asked.
Kenshin looked up in surprise. A tall, broad-shouldered samurai – what was his name again? Oh yes, Fujiwara-san – was crouching right beside him, looking at him somewhat oddly.
When did he come in? I didn't even notice! "O…" Kenshin paused, "Err…" And what had Fujiwara-san even asked? Something about Ito-san being his mentor? Like a teacher?
"Err, well, that is to say… Yes, Ito-san had been kind enough to share his wisdom with this unworthy one, that he has," Kenshin finally managed to stammer, looking aside awkwardly. How come he hadn't even noticed Fujiwara-san's presence? Was he becoming so numb that he didn't care enough to pay attention to the people close to him? Not that they should have a reason to harm him, these men were his comrades, but still… when had he become so careless?
However, instead of leaving him alone after getting an answer, Fujiwara-san hummed in consideration. "So, he is your mentor? But you are already an adult, aren't you?"
Kenshin blinked. What does my age have to do with anything?
But before he could even begin puzzle it through, Fujiwara-san nodded, seemingly coming to a decision and smiled warmly. "Ito-san has seemed quite busy lately. If he doesn't mind, would you like another?"
What?
Why would he...
And what is with that look? Kenshin paused, the tiny hairs at the back of his neck standing up. There was something going on here that he didn't get at all… and while Fujiwara-san seemed like a nice enough man, friendly, out-going and all around a good, loyal samurai, what exactly would he have to teach to him?
And whatever for?
Kenshin didn't need nor particularly want any help or teaching. In general, he preferred to be left alone. So it was better to make it clear. "No, thank you. Ito-san is enough for this unworthy one, that he is."
Fujiwara-san frowned, but nodded his acceptance. He seemed disappointed, but he left without insisting.
To be perfectly honest, Kenshin didn't think anything of the encounter and pushed it to the back of his mind to be forgotten. He didn't think there was anything particularly odd about how the men left him alone after that. Well, except for one thing: whenever Ito-san visited, and sought him out, the men would stare and whisper. Kenshin surmised it was just like before and promptly proceeded to do his best to ignore them. If the men wanted to spend their time gossiping about what a terrible murderer he was or how ugly and foreign he looked with his pale eyes and red hair, they could do so for all that he cared.
However, for whatever reason their stares and gossip-mongering was spreading to also include Ito-san. Not in a bad way, per se – it seemed closer to bewildered respect, like Ito-san had done something incredibly brave.
Kenshin sighed in exasperation and shook his head.
Well, it wasn't like it mattered.
Kenshin duty as protector of their men was becoming more and more important, because at the end of summer, the Bakufu started hunting rebels with renewed enthusiasm. So he spent his night guarding meetings, escorting groups and individuals and whenever they were spotted by Bakufu patrols, covering the retreat while the other men in his unit escorted the targets to safety. Sometimes Katsura-san would require his help for one reason or another, but those calls were getting rarer.
He had taken to heart Ito-san's advice about learning to pace his ki-use, using it only in short bursts when it was truly needed. The method seemed to work most of the time. Yes, sometimes he overdid it and gave himself a magnificent headache, but altogether he was beginning to learn his limitations and work around them the best he could.
As his description was clearly known among the Bakufu's men, there had been a few times that his opponents had taken his offer and fled from the confrontation. It was a relief, truly. It meant that his choice had been worth it, and made the fact that he couldn't go outside in broad daylight a bit more bearable. Every life that was spared in this madness was a balm to his aching heart.
The summer turned into the harvest season and then, it was the night of Obon Matsuri, the festival for remembrance of ancestors and the dead. The great daimonji fire was lit on the mountain to the east of Kyoto to guide the spirits. It was an impressive sight. Earlier in the day, Kenshin had hidden his hair under a large hat, covered his face with a scarf, and had sneaked out to visit her grave. It had been stupid and all together dangerous, as there was nothing quite as suspicious as a man who wore such an obvious disguise, but still, Kenshin had thought it worth the risk.
Most people used the event to honor their ancestors, but for Kenshin… well, he didn't even know his parents names or their faces. As sad as it was, his family was long gone and they bore little meaning to him anymore.
But Tomoe… she was his everything, so he had prayed for her.
Now it was late at night and he was laying in wait. A messenger had alerted him that a Shinsengumi patrol had tried to raid a rebel meeting so he had rushed to cover their retreat. The secluded side-alley, where he was waiting, was completely abandoned and if he had guessed right, the rebels should take this route on their way to the safe-house.
Ah, and there they were: five ki-presences nearing fast… followed by a patrol. However, among them, there was one very defined, strong presence he didn't recognize.
Shit.
He hadn't fought against the Shinsengumi's finest since he had dunked Saito to the Katsuragawa river, but still, this new presence couldn't be him. But a strong, defined presence like that – this new guy had to know ki, too. Just how many swordsman of that caliber were there in the Shinsengumi? Clearly, their reputation as vicious and capable fighters wasn't exaggerated. The Shinsengumi truly was the toughest troop the Bakufu had in Kyoto.
"Over there!"
"Get the rebels!"
"Don't let them escape!"
Kenshin focused on masking his ki, not letting the shouts waver his concentration.
"We are gaining on them!"
"Get them!"
Then the rebel group passed him… and Kenshin stepped out of the shadows to block the street. "Please, let these men go."
The Shinsengumi patrol came to a halt, the men in the front raising their lanterns to see him better, and paled. "You!"
Kenshin sighed. It was a useless effort trying to convince Shinsengumi members to escape, he knew that from a bitter experience, but still he uttered the words, hoping against all hope that even one of them would see sense. "Please, if you withdraw now, your lives will be saved. If you do not…"
However, instead of their usual curses and brave words, these Shinsengumi men didn't rebuke him, but instead turned to look behind them, letting someone through. Ah, the man with the strong, defined ki.
"He has red-hair and cross-shaped scar, sir," the lantern holder said.
"I see," answered a clear voice. "So, we face Hitokiri Battousai tonight." And then, a notably young man stepped forward. He was only a couple years older than Kenshin and he had a nice face, gentle eyes… but his ki, it flared like a storm, drowning out his comrades tiny flickers with ease.
Even Kenshin had to pause in consideration; that ki was one of the most remarkable presences he had ever felt, rivaling even Master's in sheer ferocity. This young commander was dangerous, potentially an even more difficult enemy than Saito had been… Tracing his fingers along the hilt of his sword, Kenshin narrowed his eyes and crouched into a stance.
The young man smiled kindly, drew his sword slowly… and charged.
Kenshin let the world slow to a halt.
Gods, this guy was fast! Faster than anyone he had ever fought with, and Kenshin gasped, falling back to defense out of sheer shock. He dodged and sidestepped lightning fast strikes, trying not to let himself be overwhelmed, but the guy kept pressing on him relentlessly, delivering one flurry of strikes after another, not giving him a chance to even blink. Dodge, dodge, parry…
No, it was worse than that – he wasn't given a chance to think!
In this dance of steel, all he had was his experience and carefully honed instincts, and he let them take over, reacting on reflex – desperately dodging and defending as he tried to get into the rhythm this terrifying swordsman set. The narrow side-alley didn't give him much room to maneuver and it took all his agility just to keep from getting hit.
This fight… it really was something else.
Kenshin gasped for breath, his pulse racing. Gods, this feeling – it was like he had emerged from the murky depths to a world that was full of colors, sensations, where there was nothing but this moment when he was utterly, thoroughly, and indisputably alive.
I love this.
This young man wasn't faster than him, no… not exactly, but he was experienced and his style was very solid. More than that, the aggressive way he projected his ki made it difficult to read him. However, with each passing second Kenshin was getting the hang of it and he was finally ready to push back. After all, defending didn't win battles, only attacking did.
So he grinned in exhilaration and charged forward, for the first time turning the tables, and then the Shinsengumi's Demon was finally on the defense.
Now it's just a matter of creating a distraction… Kenshin grinned, shoving his blade against the other man's, and spotted a slight opening in the stance. Oh yes, there! Now go for the kill!
…But why?
The thought struck him like a lighting bolt and made him hesitate just enough that the moment was gone as quickly as it had appeared. The Shinsengumi's Demon stopped too, only to curl over and start coughing… blood?
Kenshin let go of ki and took his time gathering his breath too. It was just as well, he had been getting near his limit.
A break was a good thing.
And yes, while he could use the Shinsengumi's obvious distraction to finish him, he really didn't want to. This kind of fight, where he felt utterly alive, it was so rare. When had he last had a true challenge? How long had it been since he had felt as good as this? His days were spent in numbness, lost in the memories of her. Even the fight with Saito on the bridge hadn't been as good as this, because he had been fearing and despairing over Nakamura's survival.
But now, he was alone.
He didn't need to protect anyone. The only reason he was here was to buy time for their men to make it to the safe-house.
And this, right here, Kenshin realized… was just that; buying time.
So he let the Shinsengumi's Demon catch his breath, noting how the rest of the patrol moved in uncertainty, unsure whether they should step forward and try to protect their commander. The Demon noticed it too and waved them back. Then he raised his gaze and looked at him.
Here they were, two swordsman, sweating, breathing heavily in ready stances, holding their swords close… just waiting.
A sense of curiosity nibbled at him and Kenshin paused. He couldn't remember when he had last been curious about anything. However, now there was the moment and he had the opportunity, so he wet his lips and asked softly, "Might this unworthy one have the honor of knowing your name?"
The Demon paused his wheezing too, only to grin. "Okita Souji, commander of the Shinsengumi's first squadron." Then he dipped his head slightly, prompting him in turn.
Well, it was only polite to answer. Kenshin nodded, "Himura Battousai, Choshuu Ishin Shishi."
At a distance he could feel another group of ki presences nearing them. The Shinsengumi men behind Okita-san noticed the newcomers soon after, seeing their lanterns and flags. "Reinforcements!"
However, among the new group was yet another strong ki presence. A familiar ki presence. Kenshin grimaced.
Okita-san closed his eyes and sighed in disappointment.
The Shinsengumi patrol made way for a tall, lanky man with greasy bangs and an intent, narrowed gaze. He barked harshly, "Okita, stand back!"
It was indeed the same man Kenshin had dropped into the Katsuragawa a couple months ago, and given the way Saito Hajime, the Wolf of Mibu, scowled at him, it was clear that he remembered Kenshin too. Those eyes held such hate and contempt that it was almost impressive.
"Saito-san…" Okita-san protested.
"I am very sensitive to the smell of blood, boy." Saito scowled. "You cannot defeat him in your current condition." Then he crouched, drew his blade, and held it in front of his face in that odd, left-handed stance.
"Let's go."
And Saito charged.
Kenshin let his ki enhance his movements once again.
This time, Saito's odd style was somewhat easier to handle, not quite as unpredictable and strange, yet Kenshin didn't press his advantage. His first priority tonight was to buy time and this, fighting one on one against the Shinsengumi's best, was a very nice way of doing that. But how long had it been already? Were his comrades safe yet?
Gah! Focus, you idiot!
Just in time Kenshin dodged and then parried Saito's follow-up, jumping high and coming down with an overhead strike, his favourite of Hiten Mitsurugi's specialties: the Ryuutsuisen.
Saito managed to misdirect his strike at the last second, just enough to get out of harm's way.
Well, it didn't matter. It was just as well, because it proved he could enjoy this bout a little longer, give his everything, even Hiten Mitsurugi's special strikes, and not to be disappointed. Now he was able to fight for real, not just mindlessly slaughter anything that stood in his way. Oh, how he hated that sort of a mockery of a fight. Just killing men like bugs was mind-numbing and heartbreaking. It wasn't what swordsmanship was about.
No, it was like night and day, to compare those fights to this neverending moment.
Right now he felt so alive, his muscles and lungs burned out of exertion and it felt so good, the simple joy of movement, finally being able to test his strength and resolve against a worthy opponent. This Saito, while he wasn't quite as good as Okita-san, he was indeed good enough to stand against him on even ground and his strange style gave him a lot of leeway.
Oh yes…
Kenshin grinned, enjoying how his blood rushed in his ears and how his kimono stuck to his sweaty back, how it was difficult to draw breath and how his left thigh ached after one hasty, uneven landing.
…This is so good.
Saito was breathing heavier too, his narrow eyes completely focused, his ki utterly under control, as he tried to get a good read on him, trying to come up with an opening. Saito too, knew that this wasn't a simple match at all.
There weren't equals, not exactly, their styles were too different for such a comparison… but nevertheless they were closely matched. The difference was that Kenshin wasn't even trying to find a way to finish the fight, because he didn't want this moment to end.
Yet his muscles were burning and the pain behind his eyes was starting to become unbearable. Despite the few breaks he had managed to steal during the course of these two duels, it was clear that he was near his limit. Kenshin gritted his teeth: why the fuck does this have to keep happening?
He scowled and glanced around him. The Shinsengumi men behind Saito were just watching their fight. Why? Was this spectacle too interesting to pass up? Or…
No, fuck! They had split up; in front of him was only a small group, the rest having split up, and now that he noticed it, their ki presences were circling him, trying to surround him through all the side-streets. Yes, or course – they were waiting for when he ran out of steam and then they would try to capture him.
Kenshin hesitated.
He didn't know how long he had been here, but surely the rebels had gotten to safety by now? Surely his job was already done? Yes, it had to be. So now, he only needed to escape… But how?
Sadly, there was no river nearby. It would have been fitting to lead Saito over to a bridge and drop him in the cool water again. That glare would only improve after a second involuntary swim, Kenshin thought in dry humor as he blocked yet another of Saito's left-handed charging thrusts. The Wolf of Mibu was coming at him again with renewed vigor. But no matter how tempting, he really couldn't stay here any longer.
Kenshin glanced up. Oh yes, that will work… and so he concentrated last of his ki to his legs and jumped. The roof tiles made an uneven landing and damn, his thigh smarted like a bitch, but he hobbled along, sheathing his sword in a dead run. Letting go of his ki-enhancement trick, he began masking it, spreading his already depleted reserves thinner. He heard the Shinsengumi's shouts down below as they tried to follow him on the ground.
Thank god it was dark enough that they wouldn't be able to see him well…
The throbbing pain between his eyes was getting more insistent, the flashes of pain making it hard to concentrate. Nrrggh, fucking hells! Kenshin cursed inwardly. He needed to lose his tail before he passed out. But how?
It took some doing, but it turned out that retreating to the rooftops had been a good idea. The men following him were blinded by their lanterns and had trouble spotting him. The few daring men who climbed to the roofs after him, well, it was obvious that they weren't very practiced in running on slippery, uneven surfaces. For Kenshin, this wasn't any more difficult than sparring on wet rocks by the waterfall with Master. Kyoto was build quite tightly and most of the roofs in his path were covered in clay stones, not in thatch or reed, and they supported his meager weight easily.
Once he got his ki masked, he couldn't hear any shouts following him. However, it didn't hurt to be careful. He slowed down and began watching his steps, just like Master had taught him as a child, so that even he couldn't hear his own footsteps on the tiles anymore.
And then, he was alone.
Kenshin sat down in a shadowed nook on the roof of a two-story building to gather his breath. It was a clear night. The moon was large and round, and the stars shone brightly. It was a beautiful sight, and his exhaustion, feeling the burn from overusing ki and the strain in his muscles… it felt rather good.
Closing his eyes, he exhaled slowly and laid down on his back.
I am alive.
It was such a simple thing to realize, but it felt absolutely wonderful.
He had been lost in his memories, sunk deep in his guilt and self-loathing for so long, that the only thing that had kept him sane was the numbness he had shrouded himself in. Kenta's last gift to him. But as useful as it had been…
It was not a way to live.
In fact, clinging to the numbness and trying to distance himself from everything was an injustice to her. She had taught him how to enjoy the little happinesses of life. And right now, at this moment… he could finally see a glimpse of her teachings once again.
With all his heart, he wished that she was here beside him, to see how beautiful the moon and the stars looked tonight. If she were here right now, she would touch his cheek, guide his eyes to meet hers… and then, looking at him with her black, large eyes, she would have smiled at him warmly and told him how she loved him, because her lips didn't know how to smile even half as well as her eyes did.
He had loved her eyes.
Kenshin swallowed softly, only to notice in surprise that the looming hurt in his heart didn't rise up to overwhelm him.
…Maybe, he was finally letting go of his pain? Not completely, not even nearly – his heart still ached like it always did, but it wasn't quite as bad as it used to be. Perhaps, it meant that he was getting used to his loss, learning to bear it?
Yes.
She'd wanted me to live.
Kenshin sighed slowly… and smiled.
He let himself relax and closed his eyes, rubbing idly at his aching brow with the back of his hand. Even now, some spots of light danced in his vision, but they weren't more than an annoyance. Altogether, this headache was just a minor trouble at the moment. The exhausted burn in his legs and arms was more pressing, restricting his movements and making him tremble, but then again it felt almost nice. Nothing worse than he had felt after a good long training bout with Master, Kenshin huffed softly and then slowly, climbed back to his wavering feet.
He looked up at the moon and whispered, "Thank you."
"As a sign of trust, I am willing to tell you that we have received orders to begin preparations to mobilize our troops. The Bakufu's attack will come next spring, when the snows melt and the mountain passes will open."
"I see," Katsura-san said calmly, but his ki was fluctuating, as if in anxiety?
"Thank you for the information, Saigo-san," Sakamoto-san said, and inclined his head to the Satsuma samurai.
Saigo, however, wasn't done. "Another thing – according to our spies, the Bakufu is planning to deploy their entire arsenal, even the new warships they have been desperately scrambling to assemble in Edo, with Western assistance. So you'll be facing off against every domain, with all their samurai, about eighteen hundred thousand men." He frowned thoughtfully. "Say, Kido-san… how many men do you and Takasugi-san have in total?"
"About three thousand, give or take a few hundred. Most of them samurai, but also some ronin and commoners we may be able to depend on."
"Horrible odds," Okubo-san noted coolly, a calculating look in his eyes.
Silence fell in the room.
It had been a while since Kenshin had been at these negotiations, but for some reason Katsura-san had decided to bring him along this time. It was somewhat perplexing. Hadn't they already gotten past the power-plays and threats they had flung about in the beginning? Surely Katsura-san couldn't fear violence anymore?
But then again, this was the first meeting that the leaders of Satsuma and Choshuu had arranged since the first successful weapons delivery. Katsura-san had already offered his gratitude for Satsuma's aid as a middleman, and now, because of the first success, the Brits had tentatively agreed to trade with Choshuu directly. Takasugi-san was dealing with them, hurriedly trying to get the Kiheitai outfitted with new weapons.
Perhaps, now that Choshuu had gotten confirmation of Satsuma's willingness to co-operate, maybe they could begin to broker an alliance? Kenshin's eyes widened. Oh, so that was why Saigo-san and Okubo-san were both so insistent that Choshuu was helpless. The more desperately their help was needed, the more concessions they could demand. This was yet another power-play!
Katsura's ki was calming down and he subtly flexed the fingers of his left hand, before remarking, "The threat the Bakufu poses is a paper tiger. Their numbers are frightening, yes – but in truth, their men come from dozens of different domains and they have little coherence or organization. Most of them are poorly outfitted and know little of warfare. They are samurai in name only. More damnably, most of the domains aren't obeying the Bakufu's commands willingly. Already, many of them are hesitating about participating in this campaign."
Saigo nodded, but his eyes became more intent. "What about their new warships? The Western weapons? The Bakufu has been buying those too."
"Takasugi's Kiheitai has gone against a Western navy, at the Shimonoseki strait. Back then he had outdated weapons. Now, it will be different. His army is the best in the country: better armed and more disciplined. Moreover, we will be be fighting in our own land. Choshuu is far to the southwest, poor and mountainous land that is difficult to travel through except by way of a few main passes. The only area they can attack with most of their strength is the coastline – especially if they wish to threaten us with a bombardment from their warships. If we crush their attack there, their forces will lose their courage and flee."
"Confident words," Okubo said, raising his brow skeptically.
But then, all of a sudden Saigo burst into loud guffaws, piercing the tense silence with ease. Sakamoto-san frowned, but his obvious disapproval didn't rein in Saigo's hilarity – no, it only spurred him to laugh more.
Kenshin didn't know if should he be amused or scandalized by Sakamoto-san and Okubo-san's expressions, or to be offended on behalf of his leader.
Katsura-san's face looked like it was carved out of stone as he waited for Saigo's mocking mirth to run out.
"Kido-san, you are a comedian. You are saying that Choshuu can win this war? Is that what my ears are hearing?" Saigo-san finally managed to wheeze out, his wide brows high, displaying exaggerated disbelief.
Sakamoto-san cleared his throat and held up his hands in a calming gesture, trying to keep peace between two volatile men. "Saigo-san, please – we are here to discuss an alliance to bring down a common enemy..."
It was useless. Already, Katsura-san's ki was rising and his left hand was clenched in a fist so tight that his knuckles whitened.
"For the revolution to come, Choshuu will be willing to accept Satsuma's assistance… but only as equal partners. We will not bow to your power, as impressive as it is." Katsura-san said softly, his voice utterly even and rested his hands on his knees. "Step back from the coming war and we will show you our strength. Choshuu will stand alone against the Bakufu's paper tiger… and win."
And with those chilling words, the meeting came to an end. Satsuma's leaders left with a thoughtful look on their faces and even Sakamoto-san seemed stunned by Katsura-san's proclamation.
To be perfectly honest, Kenshin didn't know what to think.
Though he could follow Katsura-san's logic to a point, the bare numbers presented were frightening. And now, they hadn't even requested assistance from Satsuma? If they had Satsuma's samurai on their side, they could have easily tripled their numbers. But then again, could Choshuu's men trust Satsuma at this point? Or would they suffer from a similar dilemma that Katsura-san claimed the Bakufu's troops had?
Kenshin frowned, yet another aspect of this tangled mess coming to his mind.
Any alliance with a domain that was so much bigger, wealthier, and more powerful than Choshuu… if there was no respect between them, it would be doomed from the start. If they wanted to form an alliance strong enough to overthrow the Bakufu with a bitter enemy like Satsuma, they needed to be seen as equals, just like Katsura-san had said.
And this war to come, this expedition that the Bakufu's forces were going to make in the Choshuu, it wasn't the end of the revolution. No…. not by any stretch of the imagination. However, this was where the Choshuu rebels' vision would be made, or broken. If they lost, it would be the Ikeda-ya and Hamaguri gate disasters all over again, but with an aftermath that was ten times worse.
But if they won… after that, how could the other domains believe in the Shogun's power?
Kenshin glanced at Katsura-san from the corner of his eye and swallowed dryly, realizing that yes, there was a reason why he had put his faith in this man.
After that meeting, instead of returning to his lodgings, Katsura-san opted to head to Gion to see Lady Ikumatsu once again. Kenshin offered to wait on the first floor, as not to disturb their privacy. However, Katsura-san simply shook his head and said, "Please, join me, Kenshin. An evening of relaxation will do both of us good."
And that was that.
All things considered, it was a surprisingly nice night. They ate good food, tasted some sake, listened to Lady Ikumatsu's beautiful songs, and watched her dance with her fans. Somehow, even Kenshin found himself relaxing a bit.
The sake tasted sweet.
It was the first time in a long while that he actually enjoyed sake. The last time had been with Tomoe, after they had harvested their field. It had been about a year ago. Strange. He hadn't even noticed how fast the time had gone.
Their conversations didn't include anything about work or the revolution. The topics were simple observations, opinions, and amusing tales. It was almost... nice? He didn't feel exhausted by Lady Ikumatsu and Katsura-san's company, either, not like he would be with the other men that he roomed with. No, somehow Lady Ikumatsu and Katsura-san gave him space when he needed it and didn't press him beyond his limits. He didn't feel trapped or particularly awkward in their sophisticated company, not even when he knew he should.
Later in the evening, after he had drunk quite a bit of sake, Lady Ikumatsu jokingly pushed him to try out her shamisen. For some reason he didn't quite understand, he did try. It was no surprise to him that he was absolutely terrible at it. Despite Lady Ikumatsu's best attempts at teaching him, he simply didn't have an ear for the correct tone. However, it had amused Katsura-san greatly to see him try and Lady Ikumatsu had looked at him warmly, so perhaps it had been worth the embarrassment.
Well after midnight, when he escorted Katsura-san home and was finally dismissed… he had felt alright.
There was a rhythm to his days now, a certain order that made his life a bit more bearable. Sometimes he even found something to be curious about, or noticed something amusing. It wasn't a big improvement, but it was something – a tiny ray of light shining into his bleak existence.
His jobs had him protecting their men, guarding meetings, or ensuring the safety of weapon shipments and other relevant items to rebels safe-houses. All necessary things, but no matter how he wished it were different, he couldn't avoid killing. The sheer amount of blood on his conscience was so great that he couldn't even begin to count all the lives he had taken.
Honestly, the best nights were those when he could lead his hunters on a merry chase around the town, or when he managed to drop them into a river. Like that one Mimawarigumi patrol that had followed him to a slightly smaller river than the Katsuragawa. Because of how they had stopped to threaten him, their weight evenly distributed in the middle, a single Douryuusen had been enough to totally destroy the bridge, dropping them all into the river for a nice, refreshing swim.
And then there were the duels with Okita Souji-san and Saito Haijime-san.
For all the times Kenshin had clashed blades with them, there had been no definite conclusion to their matches. By the end, they would be gasping for breath, grins of delight on their faces… but neither party would take advantage of the other's weakness in a dishonorable manner, despite ample opportunity. It was something that was beginning to bother Saito-san especially.
"Why aren't you pressing for an advantage?" Saito-san asked him one night.
Kenshin only grinned, but didn't even try to explain. The truth was that though technically, he should be trying to kill both Saito-san and Okita-san… he wasn't sure if he wanted to. If he tried his best and forgot all the swordsman's manners, perhaps he could make the killing blow, but… he was improving just by fighting them. Saito-san and Okita-san were both brilliant swordsmen and they pushed him to his limit. Fighting at a higher level like this was making him use Hiten Mitsurugi's specialties more ingeniously, solidified his personal style, and kicked off all the rust and bad habits he had gathered over the years.
And the thing was… no one needed him to kill them. It was enough that he bought time.
However, Ito-san pulled him aside one evening, taking him to the backyard of the inn for a private talk. "Himura-kun. I have two questions for you."
The first question turned out to be why he hadn't killed either of the famous Shinsengumi. After some hesitation, Kenshin admitted the truth, explaining, "It's just… the Shinsengumi are not our enemy, the Bakufu is." He stammered, "Like us, they are fighting for their beliefs. They police the town and keep the peace for the good of the common people. It isn't necessary for this unworthy one to kill them, that it isn't."
Ito-san gave him a look. "Killing the Demon Child Okita, or the Wolf of Mibu Saito, would bring great fame to Hitokiri Battousai."
"O…" That is… Kenshin reddened. "Err, that is so – but Battousai is already feared. There is no need for more, that there isn't."
"You rascal," Ito-san scoffed fondly and raised his hand, as if to ruffled his hair like he was a boy, or pat his shoulder like he had done dozens of times. But he didn't do either, he simply lowered his hand and shook his head. "I will look aside in this matter. So far your work has been remarkable. What is one or two famous samurai among all the dead Bakufu to Battousai's name?"
Kenshin looked aside, feeling the blush on his cheeks burn and spread lower, to his neck and ears. That was just about the clearest admonishment he had gotten from Ito-san so far. However, even if he had made something of a habit out of dueling with the Shinsengumi's best and brightest, that didn't mean there hadn't been any accidents or injuries. He had gotten a few cuts and his scabbard had been broken just last month. The swordsmith, Arai Shakku-san, hadn't been happy, but then again, he never was.
So yes, there was some truth to Ito-san's words.
But the thing was, even if it was stupid and reckless, Kenshin loved how alive he felt in those duels. It felt so good, almost intoxicating.
"About the other matter I wished to bring up with you today…" Ito-san cleared his throat awkwardly.
Huh? Kenshin paused, somewhat taken aback. He had never seen the older man look so hesitant, and that look in his eyes, it was… strange, to say the least.
"You are, of course, aware of the rumor among the men that I am mentoring you?" Ito-san asked slowly and looked at him, his eyes hooded and considering.
Kenshin tilted his head curiously. "…Are you not?" After all, the old man had been giving him very good advice, admonished him for his stupidity, and all together had taken him under his wing a bit like Master had done. Wasn't that what mentoring was all about?
But instead of answering him, Ito-san raised his hand and slowly, ever so slowly, traced Kenshin's left cheek, exactly the same way she had. The gentle touch made all the hairs on his body stand up and not in a good way. A shiver raced down his spine and Kenshin felt his eyes widen, his heart skip a beat… and he recoiled, dashing backwards until his back hit the wooden wall surrounding the private backyard.
Breathing hard, his eyes wild, he couldn't do anything but stare.
What the hell?
That was, that was… oh gods, what the hell?!
And Ito-san nodded, before shaking his head and looking at him, smiling with a certain self-deprecating humor. "Himura-kun… I had, of course, suspected it before, but now it is painfully clear: you weren't born to the samurai class."
Kenshin froze.
"You have absolutely no idea what this is all about, do you boy?"
He shook his head numbly, completely overtaken by shock.
Ito-san smiled in good humor. "What a mess," he said and let out a short, barking laugh. "Ah well, it is a fairly simple matter in truth. Among samurai, it's an old, commonly accepted practice for a young adolescent samurai to be mentored by an older man. The mentoring allows the younger man to learn by example all the many subjects required of him: martial arts, etiquette, code of honor, and many more… but in return, it's usually expected for the younger man to accept the mentor's physical affections out of loyalty and respect."
Urgh… affections? Kenshin's eyes widened and he sputtered dazedly, suddenly realizing what that meant.
"I see you understand." Ito-san inclined his head and then sighed, looking aside. "Another aspect of this practise is that the mentoring should end when the boy comes to an age… as should all sexual obligations. However, some young men come to desire such affection and want to continue the relationship even after reaching manhood. It's not very common, but it's accepted, as long as the boy retains a suitably youthful appearance."
Kenshin felt the mortified blush take over his face as Ito-san gave him a pointed glance. He trembled, leaning against the wall, feeling a bit lightheaded. The Choshuu men he roomed with… Fujiwara-san and others, they all thought he was having sex with Ito-san? That he wanted such attention? He had even admitted to being in such a relationship with Ito-san?
But I didn't know what the question meant!
…But wasn't Fujiwara-san interested too? Kenshin paled. Oh gods…
"Well, there isn't much to be done about the rumors at this late date and it isn't that bad," Ito-san murmured thoughtfully. "I don't mind. And frankly, it's even flattering that they would think so." He huffed fondly. "You know, Himura-kun – you are not bad-looking. Those pale eyes and that bright hair aside, you would be a wonderful boy for such things."
Was it possible to sink deep into the earth and never return? Kenshin wondered, utterly and thoroughly mortified. This was the worst thing people had ever rumored about him! And here he had thought that the stares and whispers had been about him being a killer or a foreigner, like always! But all this time, they had been thinking that, that, that… oh gods!
"Well, I'll leave you to your thoughts now." Ito-san laughed and bade his farewells, leaving him alone.
It didn't help much.
All through the summer and the long autumn, he had been ignoring the rumors because he thought he didn't care… but maybe he should have. Oh gods! He covered his face with his hands and tried to keep breathing as his knees gave way and he slid down to sit in the flower patch by the wall.
What a mess, indeed.
It was like after that discussion, Kenshin couldn't help but listen to what the men in the inn were gossiping about behind his back. It was just as Ito-san had claimed and even worse, it wasn't just that everyone thought he wanted such affections from other men, but… well, some of them seemed to think that he was attractive. No one cared for his foreign colors, but apparently his face was youthful and feminine. That he was fine-boned and on the shorter side simply enforced the image of an adolescent, girly boy in their minds. And his reputation as the terrible Battousai? Even better! Bedding such a famous figure seemed to be a very desirable thought for many of them!
The more Kenshin heard, the more mortified he became.
It was no wonder that he started to feel trapped in the inn. Unfortunately, his description was well-known in the town and he couldn't exactly risk going out without a very good reason… but staying inside with the others wasn't an option either. He began to stay out late after work; sitting on the rooftops and staring at the sky, or walking in the empty streets and riverbanks, anything to stay away from the inn until he was certain the rest of the men were asleep. He spent his daylight hours sleeping or catnapping, or if that wasn't working, he sought out secluded places to the best of his ability.
It wasn't enough.
The whispers, the stares, the rumors seemed to haunt him no matter what he did. There was no escape. He couldn't go outside. It was too big of a risk. If he got caught, the consequences would be devastating for the Ishin Shishi. It hadn't been that big of an issue to him before, his isolation had been entirely voluntary… but now, somehow he couldn't help but feel like he was going stir-crazy.
It felt like someone's eyes were always following him, making him feel self-conscious. Every single look caused shivers to run down his spine, made all the tiny hairs at the back of his neck stand up and his skin to itch like he had gotten a sudden rash.
What made it even worse, in a way, was that they weren't wrong.
Kenshin knew what he looked like and for the longest time, he had thought he had accepted it because there was next to nothing he could do to look any older or manlier. Yet now, he began to fantasize about growing a beard. With that, no one would think him feminine and it would hide the cross-shaped scar on his cheek so that he could get the fuck out of here.
Too bad there was no way whatsoever to encourage his cheeks to start to sprouting red hair.
It was unfair.
Quite a few young men his age had facial hair. Why didn't he?
However, after spending a few weeks avoiding the men in the inn and trying to keep himself from even thinking about the whole mess, Kenshin's initial panic cooled down enough for him to start looking at his dilemma objectively. Even if the rumors were rather dirty and made him feel uncomfortable, no one had sought out his company after Fujiwara-san. Why? If they thought he was, ugh… desirable like a woman, why hadn't they acted on it? Kenshin had heard more stories than he could count about his fellow rebels' romantic conquests. It was a popular topic. He could easily recall a dozen stories of how they had gotten their girlfriends and wives. He hadn't been able to avoid hearing their boasting about their trips to Shimabara, either. So yes, he knew pretty well how insistent most men could be towards people they found attractive.
So what was different now?
Was it connected to what Ito-san had said earlier, that they thought he was being exclusive with his superior? Kenshin bit the inside of his cheek, feeling his stomach twist at the thought. But if it was so, then it could explain their behavior. Ito-san was a very well-liked, respected leader… no one would want to bother anyone connected to him. Well, not counting looks and rumors, and Kenshin had endured those all his life.
Did it matter what people thought?
Not really… but at the same time, yes, it did, Kenshin admitted to himself. This whole thing was just too strange and new.
He had always been ugly, weird, and foreign. It had been astonishing to him that she had come to want him. That he was an undesirable freak of nature was something he had learned to understand and even accept… but these rumors? They threw him for a loop. He just couldn't understand why all of a sudden people could think he was even remotely desirable and more agonizingly, he had no idea what to do about it.
Back when he had roomed with other samurai in Okami-san's inn, people had feared him and thought him insane. Part of the reason had been Furutaka's rumor mongering, but mostly it had been caused by his own actions and inaction. Even now, it couldn't be that hard to make people back away from him in fear and make them avoid him. For a moment, Kenshin felt tempted to try it. But the thing was, no one was doing anything to him; they just looked, whispered, and thought about him like he was a... Ugh!
But at the same time, Kenshin liked living with these regular Choshuu men, who acted like he wasn't anything special. They had been welcoming enough to him, they respected his wishes and left him alone without making him feel like he was someone to be avoided, like a leper or an insane murderer out to kill everyone in sight. No, for them he was just a man among others, well, except for being… gaaah!
He just didn't know what to do.
With these rumors, and being stuck indoors, he felt like he was a demon straight out of children's horror stories, a creature of the night that was only allowed to see moonlight.
It wasn't right.
He wanted to visit her like he used to, to buy her flowers, light incense by her grave and talk to her. He hadn't been able to do any of those things since Obon Matsuri. He couldn't risk it, not when people could so easily recognize him as Battousai. After all, what would stop them from pointing him out to the policing forces right in the middle of the marketplace? Or worse, take notice of the places he frequented and sell that information to the Bakufu?
No, something had to change and soon.
This whole mess was his fault, caused by his stupidity and his choices… but still, there had to be something he could do to get out of the inn and the web he had so foolishly woven around himself.
One winter evening, Katsura-san took him to a meeting with some domain officials, who his leader was trying to convince them to step aside from the Bakufu's call to war against Choshuu in the coming summer… and afterwards, they headed to meet with Lady Ikumatsu, to relax and unwind after a difficult week.
However, looking at the lovely Geiko, Kenshin began to think: Lady Ikumatsu had spent years in the spotlight, dealing with fame, being known and desired for her looks. Perhaps she wouldn't mind answering a few questions?
His face must have reflected his curiosity, because Lady Ikumatsu-san invited him to visit her later for a private talk. Katsura-san didn't seem to mind her invitation – in fact, he encouraged it. However, his leader couldn't wait in such a public place for long without protection, nor could he travel alone. After all, if Katsura-san was captured, the revolution would fall to pieces. So they agreed that Kenshin would first escort Katsura-san back to his lodgings, then return alone.
When he met up with Lady Ikumatsu again, it was rather late and instead of heading the private rooms Katsura-san had reserved for their use, she decided to forgo all resemblance of propriety and take him to her quarters. It was quite scandalous, but she didn't seem bothered by the implications and well, Katsura-san had agreed to it. It was a well-kept secret, but apparently his leader was her patron. She entertained others as need be, but she was committed to Katsura-san and the formalized agreement gave this meeting at least the illusion of propriety.
So with only slight hesitation, Kenshin sat by the door, leaning his katana against his shoulder in a comfortable pose. In silence, Lady Ikumatsu began removing her heavy hair ornaments and her white face-paint.
It was fascinating to see, truly. He had always found Geiko and Maiko beautiful, odd but elegant… but now, it was like she was allowing him to see her beneath the role she played.
"Tonight, you had a question in your eyes," Lady Ikumatsu remarked, peering into a mirror as she dabbed her face with a wet towel.
Kenshin looked aside, feeling heat rise on his cheeks. She was the best option he had of trying to make sense of his dilemma, he couldn't help but be embarrassed. "It's, err…" he started awkwardly, "that is to say, this unworthy one has found himself in a little predicament regarding his reputation, that he has."
"Oh?" She raised her brow, looking at his reflection in her mirror.
"Ah, well…" he stammered, "there seems to be… a misconception that this unworthy one, err, desires affection from other men." And then he promptly covered his face with his hands out of sheer mortification from actually saying it out loud.
However, she didn't gasp in surprise or exclaim her shock, far from it. "Hmmm, and how did that happen?" she inquired easily, like there was nothing scandalous in what he had just said. "Surely nothing untoward has happened? I sincerely doubt that you can't defend yourself against unwelcome advances."
Well, that was true enough, but the thing was… Kenshin cleared his throat awkwardly. "This unworthy one, ah, misunderstood a question and claimed he was being mentored by Ito-san… which is true in a sense, but not for affection. But now people think this unworthy one desires such attention from other men and wants to be mentored despite being of age, and, and… this one couldn't help but overhear that some men think he is desirable!"
A stifled giggle followed his tirade and Kenshin raised his gaze, only to see her covering her mouth with her hands.
It felt like a betrayal.
This whole matter was horrible, it had troubled his every free moment for several weeks now and he didn't know what to do. It wasn't funny! He had come to her for help, not to be laughed at!
All of a sudden, her torrent of hilarity cut off and she drew breath sharply, looking at him with softness in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice utterly sincere. "I'm terribly sorry, Himura-san. That truly is a predicament."
That look of hers, it deflated his ire in the blink of an eye, like she had dumped a bucketful of water on a fire. Those soft eyes, they reminded him of her… and it was utterly unfair. Kenshin hid his eyes behind his long, ragged bangs and clenched his hands on his hakama.
Lady Ikumatsu sighed plaintively. "The problem is that such a blow to one's reputation is very difficult to deflect, Himura-san. Especially if the rumors have been running for some time and have some basis in truth… and have been admitted to, even if in error. Protesting against them will not change people's thoughts at this late date, it will only confirm them. And truly, has there been trouble for you or Ito-san? Have you had to suffer any untoward advances?"
"No," Kenshin whispered, clenching his fingers tight and then forcing them to relax one by one. Because, the truth was… "Ito-san didn't mind it at all, he even found it flattering. And the men at the inn, they respect Ito-san. No one has done or even said anything to this unworthy one, not since that one man who wanted to confirm the rumors about Ito-san's mentoring last summer."
"So no one has said anything to you?" Lady Ikumatsu repeated. "And this matter, it doesn't affect your work?"
Kenshin shook his head. Put like that, it made his trouble seem rather foolish. "It's just… the stares." He tried to explain. "This unworthy one has always been ugly and odd, that he has. How could they suddenly find this one attractive?"
She sighed.
Clothes rustled and her soft footsteps approached him.
She knelt by his side and gripped his chin firmly, lifting it and forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes were brown, kind… and full of compassion.
"You truly do not know it?" she asked softly.
Speechless, Kenshin could only stare at her with his eyes wide open.
She smiled a little, her thumb trailing his chin gently. "You are beautiful. These foreign colors in your eyes, in your hair, even the pale tint to your skin, they can be difficult for most people to accept, but it doesn't change the fact that your features are unique. Even that ugly scar on your cheek doesn't diminish it. I have seen many adolescent boys, feminine boys… but none of them had such a pure face as you. It's remarkable, really. No wonder at all those people are starting to find you desirable." She paused to frown thoughtfully. "Last spring when I first met you, you were filled with grief, almost mad with it. You were thin and sickly. I wanted to ease your pain and asked dear Kido-san to allow me to try and help you. Now, you are growing into your own. I'm glad that you have found your balance, but it's becoming easier and easier to see past your odd colors and scars."
She fell silent, letting her hand fall.
He didn't know what to say.
"If you didn't have your swordsmanship, I wouldn't have any trouble imagining you working in Shimabara," she continued with a thoughtful look. "It's a wonder that you aren't, actually. From what I understand from dear Kido-san, you weren't born to a name, you have no family, no clan… and these are difficult times."
Why should he bother denying it?
She knew about hard choices and how people come to work in entertainment far better than he could even imagine. "I, ah… I was sold as a child," Kenshin admitted quietly, staring at his hands. He hadn't really thought about it for years, but back then, all the other slaves had been girls, hadn't they? And now, he had seen and heard enough to know that slavery hadn't been legal in ages, except in the form of indenture contracts in the red light districts. So, in truth… he really should have realized it before.
She just hummed.
Kenshin sighed and then, the questions he had really wanted to ask her just flowed out, no matter how rude they were. "How can you deal with it? The stares, they make this one's skin itch and send shivers running down his spine. This one is mourning, he doesn't want any attention. And even if he did… not from other men."
"It's something one learns to accept," Lady Ikumatsu said to him with an even voice, her gaze serious. "You don't need to, nor should you accept any unwanted attention, but thoughts and looks, a few comments every now and then? What can one do about those? Nothing. There are far too many directed at those born to beauty. People admire, fantasize… dream, envy, lust. It's a fight one cannot win. And really, what harm is there from them? You have endured stares before, don't claim you haven't! Being from Choshuu, with those foreign colors, you've heard bad words and ill-spoken rumors countless times. Accept that you have something most people will never have and learn to endure. Find your balance."
Kenshin swallowed. So it was hopeless? This attention… it would just continue and if she was right, then it would start happening more and more often. The thought twisted his stomach and he gritted his teeth, gripping his hakama tightly…
But really, wasn't this something he had already learned to endure? Was it causing him any harm?
He knew the answer to that question just as well as she did. He swallowed dryly, before looking up at her between his lashes.
Her eyes were calm. Utterly steady, confident, and strong in a manner that he could only hope to reach someday.
He inhaled deeply and let out a slow exhale.
Perhaps… I can learn to do it.
Finally, he nodded.
She inclined her head in approval, a hint of steel gleaming in her gaze, and then she rose, returning to her mirror.
Silence landed between them, but unlike before it wasn't heavy or oppressive. More like a comfortable pause that let him gather his thoughts. She removed the rest of her work ornaments and the rest of the white paint from her neck and wrists in an idle, well practiced manner. She let her hair down and started to comb her long, luxurious dark hair. It shone beautifully and grabbed his interest, enough that he dared to ask her about it. She didn't hesitate to answer his questions, starting up a light-hearted discussion with him about the topic. It was comfortable to lighten up the mood by talking about such nonsense. Well, not exactly nonsense… after all, Kenshin had something of a vested interest in his hair.
Tomoe had liked his hair long and he had tried to keep it well-cared for in her memory, but his attempts had been rather sad so far. However, Lady Ikumatsu had a few good tips for him, nothing major or ground-breaking, but things he could definitely try out: tackling the tangles and mats in his hair when it was still wet after his bath, handling them with patience and not letting them go unattended for so long, using a bit of oil on the dry ends, combing his hair daily, tying his hair with a ribbon instead of a leather string, or even letting it down every now and then…
It was some time later that Kenshin was finally relaxed enough to ask about the other matter that had been bothering him. "The fame of Battousai… this unworthy one would like to have some freedom from it, at least enough to visit his wife's grave by daylight. But the whole town knows about his hair and scar…"
"Well, I remember warning you about that," Lady Ikumatsu said wryly.
"..Err, that is true. But is there a way?"
"Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "When I desire to go to town discreetly, I just wear humble clothes instead of my work ensemble. People see my face, but without the paint, ornaments, and fine clothes, they don't think of Geiko – especially not the attractive and desirable Ikumatsu. For them I am just a woman, a beautiful woman, but a normal woman nevertheless." She paused, glancing over her shoulder. "So, my advice to you would be… think, who is Battousai?"
Kenshin frowned. "A swordsman. A murderer… a samurai. A Choshuu rebel."
Lady Ikumatsu inclined her head. "Yes, those are all true. But I guess you haven't listened to the rumors in the city for some time." She saw his puzzlement and traced her finger on her cheek, a ghostly imitation of his scar. "Hitokiri Battousai is a demon, his hair is colored red by the blood spilt by his countless victims. His eyes gleam yellow in dark, allowing him to hunt down his targets without fail. He is an invincible warrior; tall, strong… manly, like all terrible foes in stories."
She glanced at him and the corner of her lips lifted into a smirk. "The image people paint in their minds is quite different from the truth. I dare say it won't be all that difficult for you to lead them astray every now and then. However, the more time you give people to think, the more likely it is that they will see through the illusions and exaggerations that make up Battousai's legend."
So when Kenshin finally returned to his lodgings late that night, or more accurately, early the next morning… he was pensive. Lady Ikumatsu had answered his questions, but rarely had she given straight answers and now, it felt like all he had gotten was a whole set of new questions. But then again, maybe it was just as well.
A few days later, he decided to take a risk.
He woke up unusually early. Well, early for him these days: an hour before noon. He combed his hair until it flowed down his back in a smooth, red torrent and let it stay down, without any ties holding it back. It was truly getting too long, he noticed with a grimace – it was down to his buttocks now. He dressed in his yukata and his less used, simple blue cotton kimono, just like he had used to in Otsu. Thick long socks covered his feet and mittens protected his hands. He wrapped her pale blue, embroidered shawl around his neck, high enough to cover his cheeks – for warmth and as subtle coverage for his scar.
All in all, he didn't look much like he usually did and even less like a fighter to be taken seriously. It wasn't a very practical outfit. If something happened, he could imagine how easily his overly long hair or her shawl would get in the way.
Even worse, he felt naked without his swords.
But as he trudged through the town to her grave, he kept his eyes and ears open for the slightest hint of suspicion among the townsfolk… and nothing happened. He was unarmed and idiotically open to all attacks, more vulnerable than he had been in ages, and not a single person commented about his hair being like the famous Battousai's. Sure, some people remarked that his colors were odd, some mistook him for a foreigner or a pretty girl wearing men's clothing, but no one, absolutely no one paid attention to the obvious.
When Kenshin got back to the inn that afternoon, he received stunned stares and surprised exclamations about his choice of dress and about him having gone to town without anything to protect himself with. And yes, even he could admit it had been stupid to go out unarmed. He didn't particularly want to take such a risk again, either. Without his swords, he had been tense and nerve-wreckingly alert the whole time and hadn't been able to enjoy his stroll.
But at the same time, he had left the inn.
During the day.
Like a normal person.
It felt like the sweetest of victories.
Betaed by Animaniacal in 17.06.2016.
