Chapter 34. Trouble follows the unprepared
Spring hit the Ishin Shishi with full force and suddenly they all were busier than ever. Katsura-san was elbows-deep in negotiations with everyone. He was trying to wrest as much information as possible from Satsuma, as well as blackmailing, threatening, and doing whatever he could to convince the weaker domains to back off from the Bakufu's call to war. Katsura-san had already managed to reduce the force marching on Choshuu by tens of thousands of men. It was a respectable feat, even if it did little to even the odds that were pitted against them. According to Satsuma's information, the Bakufu's army was still over one hundred thousand strong, and worse, they had managed to outfit several of their new battleships.
Hitokiri Battousai had been a valuable tool for Katsura-san in his quest to demoralize the domain leaders and because of it, Kenshin had been accompanying his leader from one negotiation to the next, shown around like a menacing show dog. Look, the most terrifying legend in the country is on our leash!
Kenshin endured it with as much dignity as he could. He knew better than most how difficult the situation truly was. If propaganda would help, he wouldn't protest, no matter how he felt about it. Besides, if Choshuu survived this battle, if they won… the revolution would no longer consist of only a few hundred determined samurai and ronin fighting for a remote dream. No, they would be able to unify entire domains to stand against the Bakufu.
The problem was that Katsura-san's and the other Ishin Shishi's efforts to prepare for war had caused the Bakufu to unleash an overwhelming manhunt for rebels in Kyoto. More and more samurai were pouring in by the day as the capital had become the gathering point for all the great and powerful before they marched on the southwest.
And yet, not many were happy about the war.
It was going to be a massive show of force, more expensive than any other effort the Bakufu had undertaken to quash the rebels. It was going to drain everyone's coffers dry: the government, the Shogun, the countryside domains… and Choshuu, too. There was no payoff for anyone in this mess. Choshuu was now poorer than ever, putting their all into surviving this war. Their earlier clashes with the Bakufu had been hard on their resources and without funding, the West certainly wasn't going to supply them with weapons.
The Bakufu's manhunt was focused on catching the suspected rebel leaders and those in influential positions. They were hoping to cut off the head of the snake before the war. Thankfully, the Choshuu Ishin Shishi had managed to keep secret Katsura-san's role as their leader, and so far, his leader had been able to evade capture with relative ease. However, the same couldn't be said for all Ishin Shishi and at the top of the wanted list – with an impressive bounty promised for any piece of information aiding his capture – stood Choshuu's demon, the Hitokiri Battousai.
It worried Kenshin. He had done his best to avoid being seen, wearing disguises and sticking to shadows, but he couldn't help being haunted by his fears and doubts. What if someone saw a bit too much? What would stop them from ratting him out? The money the Bakufu promised for aiding his capture was had gotten too good to be ignored.
Unfortunately, despite the danger, he was needed, and so Kenshin had found himself working longer and longer days. He would escort Katsura-san for hours, then run off to save rebel fighters from Bakufu ambushes, or help secure weapons shipments… he could be called to duty at any time. Sleep was becoming a valuable commodity, as was any form of rest. Worse, he had been having even more trouble with his ki; headaches and an exhausted burn in his muscles were becoming a daily struggle for him. He just didn't have enough time to rest and replenish his energy.
When it came to the, err, troublesome situation with Ito-san… at first, Kenshin had hesitated to spend any time with his superior. He hadn't been able to avoid feeling awkward, remembering the rumors. However, it hadn't taken long for him to realize that seeking to distance himself from his superior this late in the game was quite ridiculous and wouldn't help in any way. Quite the opposite, actually. Besides, the whole mess had been his fault in the first place. So, Kenshin swallowed his unease and apologized to Ito-san.
The old man just laughed and dismissed it, saying that it wasn't any trouble.
And that was that.
Now, after a particularly long day, Kenshin was walking back to the inn along a quiet street by the riverbank. Ito-san was by his side, as was the older man's habit after particularly tricky jobs. Securing this latest weapons shipment certainly fit into that category. However, this time, it was difficult to say which one of them was escorting the other. Kenshin was completely wiped out; his balance was shaky, his legs refused to walk straight, and the bright spots of light dancing across his field of vision certainly weren't helping. Every single step hurt. His muscles felt like they were on fire, aching with a raw, exhausted burn now that adrenaline had left him. Frankly, he was staying on his feet through nothing but sheer willpower.
"You know, boy – you really look miserable," Ito-san commented, his tone jovial even if his eyes were rather piercing, full of reprisal.
Kenshin didn't have any trouble guessing why. Lately, Ito-san had been criticizing him constantly about the wastefulness of his ki-use. Speaking of which, he started into the familiar lecture again:
"Surely you realize that if you were more efficient in your movements, you wouldn't be so tired after days like these?" Ito-san said. "With ki boosting your speed, you are so fast that you could cut down multiple targets with the same strike."
It was true enough. Kenshin could see the logic behind the suggestion, but, it was just... "Killing like that would cause needless suffering, that it would," he murmured. "If this unworthy one needs to kill them, it's better to make it quick, make it as painless as possible, that is is."
Ito-san's face twisted with barely held back frustration and he opened his mouth to protest, but Kenshin continued steadily, dutifully repeating his much-practiced counter-argument. "It's true what you say. It would even be easy. Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu was designed to pit one against many, that it was. Killing three or four men with one strike wouldn't take much, especially the way the Bakufu troops keep trying to overwhelm this unworthy one with their numbers… but some of them would be cut apart in a manner that would be needlessly painful. It would be a slaughter, not a fight."
"You are too soft, boy." Ito-san scoffed. "It's a nice thought, but they all die when you cut them apart. If it takes one blink of an eye, or two – what does it matter? The pain is equal. You are wasting yourself like this. Look at you, you are barely able to walk!"
Kenshin just sighed.
Well, at least the early spring morning was nice and warm. It was now the beginning of the fourth month. The wind was blowing up from the south, bringing moist air from the sea, and the sun was rising steadily between the mountains. The rays of light were painful to look at and intensified the color show peppering his field of vision. Kenshin shielded his eyes with the back of his hand and looked aside. It didn't help much. The colors kept moving, reflected on the surface of the river beside them.
Fuck it all! He cursed inwardly and swayed, his knees threatening to give way under him but a steady, warm hand grabbed his shoulder and righted him just in time. Kenshin shuddered, leaning with his hands on his knees for a moment. Damn it if he didn't feel like falling down and not moving for a week.
"Boy… maybe we should take a moment to rest," Ito-san said gently. "You really don't look too good."
"If this unworthy one stops now…" Kenshin swallowed, "I… I don't know if I'll be able to walk again."
The admission stung badly, but it was true – dammit all. The last job of the night had been quite a distance from the city proper, up in the northern mountain passes they used to smuggle in shipments of weapons. Usually, Kenshin wouldn't have minded the distance because it was a chance to get away from the painfully familiar streets of Kyoto… but he was just so tired; the stress, little sleep, and erratic schedule had worn his nerves thin, pushing him to overestimate his limits with ki, and now he was paying the price for it. Honestly, his only wish was to reach his corner of their inn and curl up in a pile of blankets and sleep. Hopefully without nightmares – he certainly was tired enough for it to be possible, but if not, well, he wasn't picky, any form of sleep would be a blessing right about now.
It was so hard to concentrate, to stay on his feet. Was it just him or were the spots splayed across his vision moving?
"Hey!" A shout rang out behind them.
Kenshin blinked slowly, so out of it that he couldn't even distinguish the individual presences from the flickering mass approaching them. As a group, however, they felt more curious than angry… huh.
Ito-san's hand tightened on his shoulder and Kenshin sighed softly, lifting his head enough to glance at the group of blurry figures approaching them.
"What is it, lads?" Ito-san raised his voice, greeting them jovially, even if his underlying tenseness was painfully clear. Something had set him on edge, but what? Then the newcomers came close enough for Kenshin to make out which blurry spots were the colors in their outfits… oh fuck, they were Kyoto Mimawarigumi!
It felt like his heart had stopped for a moment. Kenshin swallowed dryly, lifting his shaky hand to his sword hilt… only to adjust his arm so that his wide sleeve fell to cover his weapons. He couldn't fight like this, not if he had any other option. He let his eyes fall back to the cobblestones along the riverbank, carefully tilting his head so that his long, ragged bangs fell to cover his pale eyes and scar.
Please, let there be no bloodstains on my clothes. Please, let it be dark enough that my hair doesn't look too obviously red…
The footsteps approached until they heard a man call out to them, "Sorry to interrupt you, gentlemen, but unfortunately we find ourselves in need of assistance. This is somewhat embarrassing, but could you give us directions to Nijo castle? We would be most grateful."
"Nijo castle?" Ito-san inquired, his surprise obvious.
"Ah, yes." The Mimawarigumi samurai cleared his throat awkwardly. "We are new recruits. Tonight was our first patrol, but then our captain was alerted to a potential location of terrorists. He thought it prudent to break up the squad and sent the six of us back without a guide and now we are quite lost."
Kenshin tried to stifle his incredulous snort by holding his hand in front of his mouth, which, of course, swayed his balance. Only Ito-san's steady grip on his shoulder kept him on his feet, but it didn't keep him from staggering awkwardly. Kenshin cursed, trying to make it look like he was drunk or ill. Both of those were perfectly acceptable excuses, weren't they?
Thank god, these Mimawarigumi rookies didn't seem particularly bright. Seriously, getting lost on duty? Misplacing Nijo castle? How was that even possible? The castle was one of the best-known landmarks in the capital, it was just a few blocks distance from the Imperial castle grounds, and that was just across the river from here! But then again, their spokesman's accent had a familiar eastern tinge, the same as she had had… so maybe they were new recruits from Edo who had never been here before?
Ito-san was far more diplomatic than him and didn't have any trouble keeping his cool. He stepped in front of Kenshin to shield him from the rookies' wandering eyes and started happily giving them directions. "Ah, lads! That could happen to anyone! Kyoto is a big city. It's no problem at all. Just follow the river south, and where the river forks, take the closest bridge over it. Then ahead you will see…"
"Hey, is he alright?" One of the rookies asked worriedly, stepping closer to them.
"Oh, he is fine enough!" Ito-san was quick to assure. "The poor lad had a bit too much sake, that's all. He is lightweight as you can see…"
The joke raised polite laughter from the rookies. Ito-san led the conversation back to the topic at hand and it was almost enough, but then… maybe the sun rose enough to shine on his damning hair, or one of them got a bit too close, because then someone asked, "Is his hair red?"
"Oh shit! It is!"
And Kenshin knew that the ruse was over. He gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes to see past the spots of light in his eyes to focus on his targets. There were six of them, barely half a squadron, and they were all inexperienced rookies. He concentrated on his ki, the freezing coldness inside him, directing it to his burning muscles as he charged, cutting through the closest blurry shape, the spokesperson among the rookies. He was going for the second one when the pain behind his eyes spiked and then he didn't see anything at all.
When Kenshin finally came to consciousness again, his head felt like it was splitting open and his stomach was lurching with overwhelming nausea. The fierce bickering echoing all around him didn't help.
"We should head left!"
"But the old man told us to follow the river…"
"I sure did!" Ito-san's voice confirmed with forced cheer.
"Be quiet or I will gag you!" the first voice snarled.
Urgently, Kenshin tried to shift his hands, only to realize that they were tightly tied behind his back. Worse, not only was he upside down, but he was moving. Someone was carrying him over their shoulder, fireman style? Ugh… Kenshin moaned weakly, trying desperately to keep his bile down, or more accurately, up.
"Shut up, Ishin Shishi scum! You are lying or trying to lead us into an ambush, I know you are. The last thing we'll do is go where these traitorous bastards say we should," one of the Mimawarigumi rookies declared. "So I say we head left."
The rest muttered their agreement.
"Guys, guys… look!" one of them yelped. "I think Battousai is waking up!"
"Quiet! Don't go around yelling that name!" the first man hissed. "Even the walls have ears these days. What if some Ishin Shishi supporter hears you? What if they alert their men and come after us before we find our way back?"
"…Uh, I think we should tie him better. I don't want him to get loose," a third man murmured hesitantly, his voice quivering with doubt.
"Ha! My knots are tight. No one can get free of them, least of all some skinny Choshuu rat," the one who was carrying Kenshin said over his shoulder, turning just enough that the swaying motion made Kenshin's stomach lurch. The pain, the noises, being upside down… it was just too much, and Kenshin vomited.
"Fucking hell!"
And the problem of being carried upside down? The disgusting bile went straight up his nose, suffocating him. Eyes watering from the sting of it, Kenshin gagged and sputtered desperately, trying to get air… much to the disgust of the guy who was carrying him. Without further warning, Kenshin was dropped to the ground.
He hit the cobblestones shoulder first, landing on his side and gods, the pain, the pain! His left arm felt like it had been dipped into red hot coals… but still, the need to draw breath was stronger. Kenshin coughed, gasped and writhed on the ground, not caring about anything but breathing.
"Man, that's just sad," someone commented. "Are you sure that is Battousai? Just look at him! A pretty boy like that... And he is a total mess."
A hard kick hit Kenshin's stomach and all the air was driven out of his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled into a ball, focusing on nothing other than inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling. Yes, breathe. Nothing else matter. Just keep breathing.
"Who cares was he looks like!" the gruff-voiced man, the one who had carried him, declared. "That bastard killed Suzuki! He has killed more of our comrades than any other terrorist!" The man spat, the disgusting slime hitting Kenshin's face.
Unfortunately, at this point, Kenshin didn't have time to care about the mortal insult. Mastering his pain was far more important. His arms were locked painfully behind his back, but if he tried, he could still move his shoulder, so it was not broken. Thank the gods.
"I still say it would be far easier to carry just his head. Think what heroes we would be if we came back to headquarters with Battousai's head?"
"The orders are to capture when possible," a firm voice disagreed. The same one who had been quick to assume command earlier? "As nice and easy as it would be to cut off his head, we are not savages like these rebel dogs. We will obey the creed of the Mimawarigumi. Besides, if we return with two prisoners, no matter who the old man is, the Captain will have to forgive our lateness. So let's move it! And cover that damn hair!"
Without further ado, Kenshin was heaved up and slung over the largest man's shoulder once again. Someone wrapped their haori clumsily over his head, covering his eye-catching hair. Unfortunately, his nausea returned with fervor, but this time, he didn't have anything left to gag up. Worse, with all that cloth obscuring his face, it was hard to breathe or make any sense of the world around him. He didn't know if minutes or hours had passed, the time blurred into a simple repetition of horrible sensations. Uncontrollable shakes wracked through his body, his headache and well, everything throbbed in pace with the steps of the lumbering oaf who carried him.
When Kenshin finally got used to the pain, well, at least enough to start listening to the bickering around him… it dawned on him that these five Mimawarigumi samurai weren't just lost, they had no real leadership between them. Every single decision had to be argued and contradicted and negotiated until all five of them could agree on it. Even though Ito-san was tied up and at their mercy, just as Kenshin was, the old man was eagerly taking advantage of this weakness, joining the rookies' bickering every now and then with oh-so-helpful suggestions.
What was ironic was that the rookies were so sure that everything Ito-san said to them was a lie, that whenever – and it was practically all the time – the old man gave them good advice, tips, or what Kenshin suspected to be correct directions, the rookies decided to do the polar opposite.
If he had the energy, Kenshin would have laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all.
In a way, what Ito-san was doing was brilliant; he kept peppering enough truth into his words that he seemed completely sincere, but the poor Mimawarigumi rookies couldn't read him at all. So little by little, the old man was manipulating them to move away from the town. Which, of course, was the only logical thing he could do at this point. The Ishin Shishi had safe houses in the area, but this early in the morning, it wasn't guaranteed they would reach one before running into a Bakufu patrol. Worse, if the rookies managed to get them to their Nijo castle headquarters, they wouldn't have any chance of escaping.
After all, the Kyoto Mimawarigumi consisted entirely of high-ranking samurai and their headquarters was in the middle of town, in the center of Tokugawa power in Kyoto. Nijo castle was a fortress guaranteed to be crawling with hundreds of Bakufu samurai. Given how valuable Kenshin and Ito-san were as prisoners, arranging their escape from a tightly secured stronghold like that would be next to impossible. Hell, even in his best fighting condition, rested and alone, Kenshin didn't think he could do it. He was good, yes… but not crazy.
Another angle to this mess was that though it was early in the morning and there were few people out, the rookies couldn't exactly stop and ask for directions. It wasn't just about losing face or the risk of being found by the Ishin Shishi, either… no, at this point, they had a serious problem: they were late. Apparently, they had wandered around for several hours before running across Kenshin and Ito-san and the clock kept ticking. If they didn't return with a viable excuse for their lateness, they would risk being punished as a rule-breakers or in the worst case scenario, they could be branded as deserters.
It didn't help that the city was full of samurai. Mostly Bakufu troops, true… but the public was getting quite divided about who they supported. They could just as easily to run across an Ishin Shishi supporter, or a competing Bakufu group. So who could these Mimawarigumi rookies trust now?
The sad fact was that everyone wanted Battousai.
There was a significant bounty promised for even a hint of Battousai's location. The tale of the murderer with red hair and a cross-shaped scar was on everyone's lips. So what would stop another Bakufu troop from taking him from these rookies or even killing them, just so that they could claim the honor of having caught the feared Hitokiri Battousai instead?
Somehow, during the course of this unfortunate morning, having prisoners was starting to seem like a lifeline for the rookies. Without them, they would face certain punishment… but if they successfully delivered their prisoners, they would be lauded as heroes.
However, that didn't mean that the rookies were happy about being forced to drag a pair of Choshuu rebels around with them. As the sun kept rising, Kenshin and Ito-san got kicked and smacked with increasing frequency, in step with the rookies growing frustration.
It had been a long night for all of them.
Every single one of them, rookies and rebels both, were dead tired.
"Oh man… how lost are we?" someone whined. "Look! Those treetops aren't in the Imperial gardens, that's a forest! Takahashi, you idiot! We are at the edge of town again!"
"Hmmph! Like you would have known any better!" The man who was carrying him huffed in exasperation. "Man, I'm wiped out. I can't think while I am this tired… let's take a break, guys? There is no one here to see." He grunted and unceremoniously dropped his burden to the ground.
Urgh, for fuck's sake... Kenshin grunted pitifully. Thankfully, though, the rookies were too tired to care and just let him lie on the ground.
This suited Kenshin fine, even this small respite was a relief.
After repeated falls, his arms and shoulders felt like they were bruised pretty badly. To be honest, it was something of a miracle that neither of his collarbones was broken and that his shoulders hadn't popped out of their sockets. What wasn't good was the fact that he couldn't feel his fingers properly. The rope tying his hands behind his back was unreasonably tight.
He needed to find a way to escape… but using ki was straight out. Even if he could focus enough to pull together his depleted reserves, he couldn't risk passing out again.
However, if there was one good thing about having been carried like a sack and having his head covered for the whole morning, it was that his headache was mostly gone. He didn't have the faintest idea why, but it seemed like the prolonged period in darkness had eased off the color show from his field of vision. Most of his disorientation was simply from having been carried with his head upside down, not from his ki-related trouble. However, his muscles still ached and he couldn't keep from shaking, so he was far from decent fighting condition.
But where was Ito-san? He hadn't heard even a cough from the old man for a while… Kenshin tried to sort out the mess of practically indistinguishable flickers of ki near him. Oh, there! Close by was the familiar presence he had learned to recognize with ease. The rookies had gotten fed up with Ito-san's commentary a while ago and they had gagged him. Unfortunately for them, at that point it had been far too late, because they had been led completely astray.
"Say guys… what's up with Battousai?" someone with a nice, mellow voice asked. "I didn't see any blood or wounds on him when we tied him up. And I don't believe for a second that story about him being drunk."
"Yeah, it's weird," another agreed. "Why is he like that?"
"I don't care," the gruff voice that Kenshin had been starting to recognize as belonging to the oaf who had carried him, bit off angrily. "As long as he is alive, they can question him at headquarters."
"But aren't you even a little bit curious?" the mellow voice asked again.
"No."
"Well, if it's alright by you… I am. So let me just check?"
"Awwwh, softie Akio-chan…" the others cooed mockingly.
But the gruff voice just huffed. "Feh, do as you like."
The footsteps approached Kenshin and then, all of a sudden the haori covering his face was tugged away. The light was so bright that it made Kenshin's eyes water, despite him trying to squeeze them shut. He blinked dazedly, trying to get rid of the wetness as he shied away from the light, turning his face to the ground.
An insistent hand grabbed his chin and prodded at his eyelids, forcing his eyes open.
Gah! It's so bright! Kenshin groaned pitifully.
"Guys… didn't all the rumors say that he has yellow eyes?" The mellow voice raised his voice. "This boy's eyes are violet."
"Really? Violet eyes?" someone piped up. His voice was full of a youth's curiosity. "I have never heard of anyone having violet eyes. Not even the foreigners in Yokohama had those. Green, yes. Blue, yes. And different shades of those, but never violet."
"Yeah, I know," the mellow voice, softie Akio, murmured. "But still… come and look."
And then, there were two blurry shapes peering down at him.
"Well, damn. Right you are!" the youth said incredulously. "Are we sure this is the Battousai? I mean, he has the scar on his cheek and his hair is really freaky red, but still, this little fella…"
Kenshin tried to blink the tears away from his eyes to clear his vision… and then, he could finally make out the details. The doubtful youth was a tall man in his late teens or so, but he had an impressive beard for his age. He couldn't be much older than Kenshin, it was clear by his gangling height and the touch of guileless innocence in his eyes.
The man who was holding Kenshin's chin was somewhat older. In his early to mid-twenties. He had a kind face, with soft brown eyes. He didn't look like he was capable of harming a mouse, let alone a man – obviously a scholarly type. No wonder he had earned the nickname "softie Akio" from his peers. However, his ki felt steady enough, which hinted at some training in swordsmanship.
"Mmm, the rumors are always exaggerated," softie Akio murmured thoughtfully. "The looks don't always match the person. All I know is what I saw and what I didn't see. You saw it the same as I, didn't you? First, he was there, looking weak as a newborn kitten and then all of a sudden Suzuki dropped dead in two pieces and this guy collapsed right before my feet."
He let go of Kenshin's face and allowed him to curl into a ball again, to avoid the uncomfortable brightness of the morning sun. The worst of Kenshin's shock was wearing away, leaving room for the more pressing concern: he needed to figure out a way to escape before this rookie squad got their act together. Despite Ito-san's effective misdirection, their luck had to run out sooner than later.
"Say, Akio… why aren't you angrier at him?" the bearded youth asked. "I heard your brother was killed by Battousai."
"I don't know," Akio said. "I trained in Maekawa-sensei's Chuetsu Ryu, defied my family, abandoned my work at the clinic… I spent all that effort just to get here. But now that I have Battosai here at my feet, just lying there helplessly… I don't know."
"Softie Akio-chaaaan!" someone called out from the distance. "What's up with Battousai? Did you get to play doctor enough?"
Akio huffed and raised his voice. "He isn't wounded, not that I can see… but he is clearly in pain. He is still shaking and sweating, yet it isn't fever, either. I don't know. It's rather bizarre. The best I can guess is some internal injury, but you guys didn't kick him that hard, did you?"
Kenshin sighed softly, relieved not to be the object of their curiosity anymore. It was perfectly alright if they thought him weak. He was. Not that he was exactly useless anymore, but they didn't need to know that. Subtly, he prodded at the ties holding his arms back, testing the strength and resilience of the knots. The rope was tight and strong around his bony wrists. No matter how hard he tugged, there was no way to get enough slack to slip his hands through. So what should he do? He didn't have anything to cut the rope with and the nearest blade that he could see was at Akio's waist.
Then heavy footsteps stomped nearby him and clothes rustled before someone grunted as if in pain. "Do you know what's up with Battousai?" a gruff voice asked¨dangerously. Not to Kenshin, but…. Oh no.
"No, I don't." Ito-san rasped tiredly.
Kenshin glanced up hastily between his lashes, only to see Ito-san on the ground just a few feet from him. The old man noticed it and gave him a rather nasty look, one that conveyed a clear message: Why the hell are you worrying about me?! Let me handle these idiots and stop drawing their attention! Immediately Kenshin closed his eyes and fell slack, trying to pretend he was barely hanging on to consciousness. It wasn't much of a show, but hopefully, it was convincing enough.
"Well, it doesn't matter. Sick or not, Battousai isn't going to die on us anytime soon. Now, our priority is to get back to headquarters," another voice declared. "So guys, wait here. I'll double back to town and get us some directions or maybe even a map. You can camp out here in the meanwhile. When I'm back, let's just cover the bastard's hair and slip through. No one will question us if we look like we know where we are going." The man paused. "And Takahashi… don't get too excited. Remember, we want them alive."
Then there were only four rookies left. The angry one, Takahashi, who had been carrying Kenshin and delivering kicks and punches with enthusiasm throughout the morning. Softie Akio, the bearded youth… and the fourth guy who never said much. Four tired rookie Mimawarigumi guarding two tied up and thoroughly beaten rebels.
Kenshin was completely helpless like this and he didn't dare to move much. The rookies didn't need much encouragement to vent their frustration on their prisoners. And what if they realized that it wasn't worth the risk to take them back alive? Sure, he and Ito-san knew a lot – but these guys, they didn't know that. For them, they were only an assassin and a random old man. Most of the rookies' problems would quickly disappear if they were to take only his head with them…
Besides, Ito-san didn't look too good: the rough handling they had suffered through this morning had been harder on the old man. And yet, even now he could see Ito-san testing his ropes, trying to find a way to get his hands free. If only they had something to cut them! Kenshin glanced at the nearest rookie and the swords at his sash. It was useless. He would have to pull the sword out with his teeth or feet, and while he could maybe, possibly, do so tied like he was… after that? There were still four guys and he was weak and without ki.
But at the same time… now was the best chance they had to escape.
There were only four of them left.
There was no telling when the last one would return with a map and directions, and then it would be too late for anything other than to wistfully hope that some rebel supporter would see them and alert their men… it was a fool's hope at best. Kenshin didn't want to rely on that. The ropes around his wrists kept nagging at him. He knew there was no chance for him to escape with his hands tied up like this, but honestly speaking, the ropes wouldn't be much of an issue if he could somehow make his thumb disappear…
For some reason, that was the only thing he could focus on.
His hands were bony and slender, they had always been so. If only he could somehow displace his thumb joint, he could slip his hands through. But forcing it could ruin his hands and without his hands, we would be useless as a swordsman. Always protect your hands, Master had bellowed at him, ever since that night when he had found him at the graveyard.
"I don't know about you guys… but just looking at that bastard makes me angry," the gruff voice, Takashi said. and his ki presence flared with anger, no, fury. "I don't care how pathetic he looks. I had to carry him and he puked on me. He is a killer, a terrorist… total and utter scum. I say I deserve some revenge."
Clothes rustled and then the heavy footsteps approached.
Uh oh…
"Takahashi…" Akio muttered worriedly.
And then a terrible, strong kick hit his ribs and they all heard the sound of bone snapping.
Kenshin grunted against the sheer agony that burst on his left side, wheezing for breath… but then the next kick landed and all the air escaped his lungs again. His eyes teared up, and he gritted his teeth, trying to keep from crying out loud. The last thing he wanted was to give these guys was the pleasure of seeing how much this hurt.
"Stop it!" Akio screamed. "Didn't you hear what Iwahashi said? We need them alive!"
"Shut up, Kiyosa–"
A loud laughter interrupted Takahashi's words as another rookie jeered. "Yeah, shut up, Softie Akio-chan! Iwahashi isn't our leader, and neither are you! We are all the same rank here and Takahashi has a point!"
Another kick landed on Kenshin's chest and he couldn't focus on anything but trying to curl up and avoid the hits as best he could.
"You like that, scum? How about some more?" Takahashi huffed in excitement, kicking him again, this time in the stomach…
Oh gods, oh gods… how the hell am I going to survive this? Kenshin thought madly, turning on his stomach and burying his face in the ground. He coughed up dirt and dust, just trying to breathe, hoping against all hope that they wouldn't break his arms now that his midriff was relatively safe…
"Hey, lad! Yes, you, Takahashi! What are you kicking Himura-kun for? He just kills who I order him to!"
Shocked exclamations spurred forth from the rookies, but then, one of them, the bearded youth, focused on Ito-san and asked dangerously, "You order him to…?"
No way, no, this can't be happening… Kenshin's eyes widened in shock.
Ito-san lifted his chin proudly. "Yes, that's right. I'm Ito Juzo, the head of the Choshuu Ishin Shishi. Just why do you think Battousai was escorting me? I am too important to go alone!"
Those boasting words were… half-true. Ito-san was important, but he wasn't up to Katsura-san's level. However, it was a good bet that these rookies didn't have any idea who the real power players were among the Ishin Shishi. Kenshin swallowed in panic, realizing what the old man was intending with this stunt: Ito-san had concluded he couldn't get rid of his bonds on his own, so he was trying to create a distraction, giving Kenshin a chance to work out an escape.
Takahashi grinned nastily. "Well, I don't mind delivering some payback on you either!"
And all of a sudden, Kenshin's need for an escape became urgent. There was no time to think through his options and calculate the risks while waiting for a better chance. No… that brute Takahashi, his ki was so angry. He didn't mind dishing out pain and Ito-san was an old man. He wouldn't be able to stand it. And what if they found out Ito-san was leading them on again? They would beat him to death from sheer anger and excitement!
No, there was no better chance coming his way… not in time. Kenshin swallowed dryly, feeling dread rising on his tongue. The four rookies gathered around Ito-san, all of their attention caught by the spectacle of Takahashi kicking him and shouting insults and questions. No one was watching Kenshin. If he could slip his hands free, he wouldn't need his ki to kill them, not if he just could grab the nearest sword by surprise…
And really, the only thing that was keeping his hands secured was that pesky thumb joint. Without it in the way, the ropes wouldn't give him any trouble… and what did the pain matter, really? At this point, he already hurt everywhere. And Ito-san… the old man wouldn't last much longer. The old man was frail. He wasn't a fighter. That damn Takahashi had to know it and he was still kicking him just for fun!
Kenshin took hold of his left hand, feeling out his wrist and how the thumb joint worked. It was better to start with the less important hand. He took a deep breath and twisted, then pulled. The thumb popped right of the socket and he hissed, biting his lips to keep silent. He drew his injured hand against the ropes, pushing the freely lurching thumb inwards to lie against his palm, and pulled. It wasn't easy, but like this, yes, it was working. The rough hemp rope bit into his skin nastily, but it just didn't matter enough.
He knew pain and this was nothing.
Then suddenly, his left hand was free, and the ropes slacked around his right wrist, enough for him to slip it free without causing himself more harm. Lying still, keeping his hands behind his back, he gritted his teeth and pulled his left thumb back into the socket. It hurt like hell and his grip was slick with blood…he really couldn't feel anything else but the pain in his left hand. He flexed his fingers...
Oh, fuck it.
Just his luck, the whole hand was completely useless.
Thankfully, no one was watching him. Kenshin gathered his feet under him slowly, eyes locked on his targets. The nearest man was the bearded youth. His back was to him and he was asking Ito-san something… not bothered by Takahashi's brutality. The mousy softie Akio was on the sidelines, gnawing at his knuckles, his entire attention caught by the spectacle. The last guy was cheering Takahashi on…
I'll kill them all.
Fury storming inside him, Kenshin dashed forward, grabbed hold of the bearded youth's sword with his only good hand and pulled it free. He didn't have time to think, he moved on reflex. The big guy, the most dangerous one Takahashi went down first – Kenshin slashed his throat all the way to the spine. The bearded youth was frozen in shock, his stance open and defenseless when Kenshin cut him open from right hip to left shoulder. It was a cruel and weak strike, it didn't have the strength to cut him apart and guarantee a fast death, but the bleeding would kill him soon enough.
The silent one who had cheered Takahashi on was next, and he had managed to recover from his surprise enough to pull out his own sword. He screamed in anger and attacked Kenshin out of pure desperation. Kenshin parried the strike weakly, his right hand wavering from the stress of holding up such a heavy katana one-handed, but he managed to misdirect it to the side and then he slipped around the rookie, stabbing him through the back. The rookie dropped to his knees and tried to grab the blade that was skewering him, but his hands didn't have enough strength to hold the blade back as Kenshin put his foot on the boy's back and pulled it free.
And then, there was only one.
The mousy, scholarly, desperately out of his league Softie Akio was shaking in fright, holding his sword out in a perfect defensive stance. Yes, it was clear – Akio had trained for years in swordsmanship, honing his skills until he could hold his own in a fight.
However, despite everything on the surface; the fact that Kenshin was about to collapse from his wounds and exhaustion, and that the Mimawarigumi samurai was mostly fresh… Kenshin didn't have a single moment's doubt that he could kill this man. It was all in the eyes. Despite his polished sword style, Softie Akio wasn't a killer. He doubted this Akio had ever hurt anyone.
Kenshin's hand shook as he held up the loaned sword at the ready. It was long and awkward to handle, far too heavy for him to use one-handed. And fuck, he was tired. Kenshin narrowed his eyes and whispered softly. "Please, leave."
Softie Akio's eyes widened at his words… and then, it was like something broke. The scholarly Mimawarigumi rookie dropped his sword and took a step back, then another, and turned to run.
Kenshin closed his eyes and sighed, utterly weary.
He walked to Ito-san, cut the rope that bound the old man's hands, and knelt by his side. Ito-san was still conscious, but barely. His face was a mess. Bruises were darkening and swelling, his right eye was already swollen shut and his lips were bloodied, and he coughed weakly. Given all the kicks to the mid-drift, it was a good bet that the old man was also bleeding internally and most likely, he had a concussion as well.
"Ito-san, please – wake up," said Kenshin softly. He gently slapped the old man on the cheek, trying to rouse him. "Please, we have to go."
The old man pried his eyes open agonizingly slowly. "Huh… Himura-kun. Is it over?"
"Yes," Kenshin confirmed, before glancing around the clearing. There were three dead samurai... and yes, there were the swords the rookies had taken from them. "Wait a moment, please."
Kenshin awkwardly gathered up their swords under his otherwise useless left arm as he thought about how to carry everything. By the position of sun, it was now mid-morning – far too late for him to be out in the open without a disguise. Worse, the last Mimawarigumi man would be coming back any moment now. They really needed to get moving.
But how could they move through the streets to the nearest safehouse?
Perhaps, it would be better to hide in the woods for the night and then slip back into town under the cover of darkness… but Ito-san wasn't looking too good. They needed to get him to a doctor. And if Kenshin was being entirely honest with himself, he wasn't up to camping either. His left hand was swelling and bleeding sluggishly where the hemp rope had bit into the skin, he had at least one broken rib, countless bruises, not to mention the rest of his issues…
But if he went into town looking like this, everyone with a working pair of eyes could figure out who he was.
Kenshin sighed.
Fuck it all to hell.
Without allowing himself to hesitate, Kenshin untied his hakama and stepped out it, laying the swords on the pleated, wide-legged trousers and rolling the fabric around them. He secured his hakama sash around them, in the manner of a makeshift traveling bundle. He tugged his hair loose from its high tail, combed it with his fingers so that most of his long bangs fell to cover his cross-shaped scar, and arranged the rest to tumble down his shoulder to his chest. He adjusted his kimono, smoothing out the creases as best he could and securing his sash higher, a lot higher than usual, tying it in a somewhat awkward knot in the front, something like he had seen cheap yujo do to market their availability.
Preparations done, he strapped the sword bundle to his back and heaved Ito-san up on his feet, propping the old man's left arm around his shoulder, and started to limp forward determinedly. It was slow going; every single step hurt, but the old man could walk well enough with a little assistance and this would work. This had to work. There was no other choice.
"Himura-kun… do I want to know what you are planning?" Ito-san wheezed.
"No," Kenshin grunted and kept going, absolutely refusing to blush, because right now, his girly and youthful looks just might save their lives. After all, if people figured he was nothing more than a rentboy from Shimabara, they wouldn't question them and with any luck, it would look like he was merely helping his beaten patron back home.
Ito-san guffawed loudly and then groaned. "Ah, gods… even laughing hurts."
Betaed by Animaniacal in 01.07.2016.
