An illusion of security and normalness, that's what my current life resembles. How easily, indeed, for the illusion to disperse under the slightest pressure. That is when I realize I hate facing reality.
Ch 5 Decision
…five, six, seven, eight…
The phone rang on in a monotonous tenor, its crackling static unpleasant to the user's ear. Expressing curbed impatience with a slight frown, he held on to the receiver; one hand tapping absently on the tabletop beside him.
He started a little as his student's cheerful voice abruptly took over the ringing.
"This is Himura Kenshin. If you hear this, I'm probably not available at the moment. Please try again later, or leave your message after the beep and I'll call back as soon as I…"
Hiko slammed the receiver down, not bothering to wait for the beep. It was already eleven o'clock at night, and Kenshin should have been home ages before that. Hell, the little brat should have been home at eight; it was one of the many things that he had promised his shishou. Hiko would - or could - not allow him to wander, unarmed and purposeless, in the darkened streets of Kyoto. Goodness knew that a lot of people out there would like to get a hold of a weaponless and defenseless Battousai, regardless of what their purposes were.
Damn the baka deshi for all this trouble.
Enrolling into Tsutoki High hadn't been smooth for both of them, so to say. They had quarreled long and hard over the matter - Kenshin fixated on commencing a "normal" life as soon as possible, Hiko certain that his student was being overly rash and senseless. Major arguments between them were never concluded easily, as both master and student were accustomed to being stubborn in their respective beliefs. And had the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu not remembered the consequences of their last dispute, he might not have agreed to his deshi's decision in the first place. The enrolment, to him, was disturbingly dangerous and closer to suicide than his warrior's sense preferred. He understood, however, how brashly his apprentice would react to desperation if pushed to the extreme – it was the main cause of the ex-hitokiri's last blunder. Hiko would not let history repeat itself. This was his primary concern.
He was also aware that the prolonged period of solitude and hiding was eating at the redheaded boy; the teen needed interactions with the world. No matter how weathered and skilled he was, Kenshin was still a child – there was no denying it.
So the deal was made. Kenshin could get into the school under Hiko's supervision, provided that he followed every rule that his master set. Kenshin had been more than happy to oblige, swearing on his honour that he wouldn't jeopardize his allowance by violating the rules. Hiko had trusted him to keep to his words.
The current circumstances proved to him that Kenshin was either truly an idiot, or had finally been bold enough to completely disregard his teacher's orders.
Either way, the boy was going to regret his very existence tomorrow, if he hadn't regretted it enough, Hiko vowed through narrowed eyes.
But under that layer of annoyance was a hint of worry that the swordsmaster wasn't ready to admit to himself. Kenshin wasn't one to ignore rules because he felt like it; he was never rebellious to his teacher without a good reason. Sure, the boy had had his days – occasional bouts of depression, no doubt caused by dark remembrances of his past; and silent sessions of contemplating over the future – and when this happened, the kid would probably mope around in some discreet corner, and Hiko would make sure to let him alone, pretending not to notice. According to him, moping around for a short while was acceptable – as long as his student could muster up enough strength to stand up again after that. Moping around for an extended period, on the other hand, was a weakness; if Kenshin ever considered doing that, he was sure to find himself promptly beaten up by his stern master.
The unanswered call might just be another bout of moping on Kenshin's part, but somehow Hiko doubted its likelihood. He had called to further discuss his views on Sekihara Sae's murder, and provided that Kenshin was recently alerted to the case, it seemed…wrong for the boy to mope over other concerns at the time. He should have been distracted enough. But if it was a guilt attack over Sekihara's death… Hiko gave an exasperated sigh. Kenshin's guilt had a tendency to stretch on forever if there was nothing to distract him, thanks to an overdeveloped conscience. Sometimes Seijuro would wonder if it was really he who had drilled that much moral into the child.
Just then, the phone broke into a fit of high-pitched wailing; Hiko realized that he'd been glaring daggers at the innocent appliance for the last five minutes, one hand gripping the receiver with such force that it was in danger of being reduced into splinters. He lifted the receiver to one ear with a grimace, wondering if it was yet another of his bothersome female students, phoning him under the guise of discussing Physics and ending up trying to get him into a date.
"Hiko speaking."
"Hiko-san," the voice on the other side of the phone didn't offer a name, or anything that resembled an introduction; Hiko simply didn't need it. "The president is in town."
Hiko scowled heavily at the handset, recognizing the man behind that particular title. Katsura Kogoro? In Kyoto? Wasn't the high-and-mighty Mr. President supposed to stay in Tokyo, the current capital of Japan? He cleared his throat once before replying.
"Does he have any…particular activities that lead him here?" the Physics teacher inquired, trying to work out the man's reason for leaving the capital like this. Hiko had a rough sketch of Katsura's character in mind - like Kenshin, the Choshu leader never did anything on an idle whim; unlike Kenshin, he usually had more than one scheme behind his actions, in which personal emotions counted less than little. Though not necessarily evil, the man was purely political and would go to any lengths to achieve his goals. That was why Hiko intended to keep Kenshin out of Katsura's hands this time, even if it meant having to clear the president from the earth's surface.
The voice on the opposite end hesitated.
"Not that I know of, but it probably has something to do with…the boy."
He's coming for Kenshin… Hiko was silent for a moment, homicidal thoughts dancing around his mind in quick succession. If Katsura ever attempted to manipulate Kenshin again, he'd never live to see another day – that he promised himself. He muttered a brief "thank you" into the phone before putting it down with deceptive deliberateness.
Katsura's arrival and Kenshin's sudden disappearance…maybe he was jumping to conclusions. But there was always the possibility…Hiko fingered the car key in his jeans pocket, brows scrunching up as he made his final decision.
He would give it until tomorrow.
And tomorrow, he planned to see his baka deshi, no matter the cost.
Tomorrow saw Sagara Sanosuke flinching very visibly under Okita's bright smile.
It was rather ridiculous, really, a violent gangster cowering before a teacher who was decidedly effeminate and shorter by two heads; but the class had gone completely silent, most having taken Chemistry long enough to anticipate Okita-sensei's reaction over a late piece of homework. No one was particularly enthusiastic about being included in the forthcoming onslaught, and generally contented themselves with sticking as close to the lab walls as possible, test tubes and spatulas still in hand.
In the center of the room stood Okita Souji and Sagara Sanosuke; the former holding a beaker of bubbling chemical in a gloved hand with a trademark smile, the latter looking as though he feared that Okita would somehow break the beaker over his head and melt his face with its contents.
"Sagara-san, I believe that I asked you to hand in the assignment today?" the beaker cocked slightly to one side, the solution dashing near the rim with a slight sizzle. Sano pondered briefly if it was a deliberate attempt at intimidating him. It didn't really matter; he was already intimidated. It baffled Sano, how Okita could get as scary as Saitou with a smile on his lips. A slow speculation on his part, considering that almost all Chemistry students in Tsutoki High had pondered the same mystery long ago.
"Well, I sorta know…but Kenshin's not in today and…yeah…so…I can't damn well hand it in…"
"Himura-san?" Okita cocked one slender eyebrow, mild curiosity settling on his features. "I do not think that Himura-san has anything to do with your assignment…unless you have been planning to copy from his work."
Sanosuke was positive that almost all teachers in Tsutoki High had demonic insights. "Er…not really. Just…for reference, you know."
All present flinched at the intelligence, or lack thereof, in his words.
"Forget it," Okita gave a little sigh, causing the remnants of his students to recoil further against the wall. Something bad was certainly coming. "As recompense for your late assignment, Sagara-san, can you assist me in our experiment this lesson?"
Sano nodded – before recognizing, with his limited Chemistry knowledge, that the chemical in the beaker was actually concentrated sulfuric acid…very concentrated sulfuric acid, in fact… and that Okita's gaze was directed at the tap near the lab table.
"Sagara-san, would you mind exhibiting the result of adding 15cc of water to a beaker of concentrated sulfuric acid at once?"
There was a collective gasp as all students that didn't fall under the 'immortal' category fought desperately for shelter after perceiving the message. At Okita's left, Shinomori and Misao took silent refuge behind a concrete pillar; behind Sano, Kiyosato Akira and Soujiro concurrently ducked under the same workbench.
"Sure, why not," was Sano's blissfully innocent response.
Sometimes, as Sanosuke failed to notice, Kenshin did have a demonic insight on par with that of any teacher when it came to anticipating punishment.
The resulting explosion was clearly audible in the gymnasium three floors below, where Saitou dismissed it with a smirk and a nonchalant shrug.
Kenshin woke to a faint collection of dark alleys, fighting, unfinished schoolwork, H2SO4 and William Shakespeare. Attempting to determine which of the above was the priority with a shake of his head, he quickly discovered any movement to be a bad idea after all.
His head was splitting open with pain. Literally.
Groggily, he told himself that the cranium wasn't, to be biologically accurate, supposed to split open during a headache, and the chapter on human structure was not included in his next Biology test anyway. Dismissing the observation as a waste of his time, the redhead tried his best to trace the source of his latest discomfort.
Saitou. Make-up lesson. Going home late at night. Ambush.
Katsura Kogoro.
That name alone cleared his head of dizziness, if only for a moment; he bolted upright, back against a stack of downy pillows, as realization dawned. Exhaling sharply, the boy lifted a hand gingerly to his left cheek, fingertips brushing over a thin, sticky layer of cloth that he immediately recognized as gauze. Kenshin sighed, too worn down from his latest injury to muster up any real wrath towards his captor.
He'd fallen under the old spell. Again.
That notion, to his own surprise, brought him mostly dismay and annoyance.
Kenshin rubbed absentmindedly at his temples, kicking back the covers as he descended from the bed, flame-red hair cascading down his shoulders in an unkempt wave as he stood to his full height. His surroundings, furnished with authentic (and probably expensive to the point of ridiculousness) furniture and occasional paintings that looked more like blotches of misplaced colours than anything else, suggested a president suite – he wasn't particularly impressed. After all, his host was a president.
Speaking of said president…the boy spared a glance at the mahogany door, and knew from a soft push that it was locked quite solidly on the outside. The windows were, to his initial amazement, not even closed, but when metal panes slid down from the sill to snap at his outreaching fingers, Kenshin had to suppress a slightly disappointed sigh.
Katsura-san would never be that careless. I should know better.
Though tastefully decorated, the room did not have a clock, but the ex-hitokiri could guess from the sight out of the window that it had to be at least mid-morning. Which could only mean one thing…
"Kuso!"
…he missed school.
Now that was unacceptable; the school office should have called his home by now for his unexplained absence, and no one was going to answer it. There was always the danger of drawing too much attention to himself; of the Mibu picking him out from the others…Saitou was hard enough to deal with, he didn't want a Death by Explosive Chemicals dealt to him by the First Shinsengumi captain. Himura slammed a fist against the wall, suddenly bristling with helpless rage. What did Katsura want with him, anyway, when the revolution was over? What right did the man have, to mess his life up like that?
He really hated that man, he realized.
"I'm going to kill you for this, Katsura-san." It was not a vow but a mere expression of wrath; "kill" was a word the ex-Battousai had banished from his dictionary long ago. Nevertheless, the student was somewhat startled when he was graced with a response.
"…though I doubt the possibility of that occurrence." Katsura's reply was smooth and sophisticatedly worded. That reminded Kenshin – the man had sparred with words ten times more often than he did with swords. "For if you have considered taking my life, you would have done so; and even if you tried, you wouldn't have succeeded." He stared pointedly at the gauze covering his once-subordinate's cheek.
For this, Kenshin had no answer; words were obviously something he was never good at. Getting to the point, however, he thought he could manage.
"What do you want?" He turned around with eyes narrowed with enmity, noting dimly that Katsura had abandoned his formal suit in favour of more casual attire. Katsura, expectedly, was unfazed.
"A rather reckless decision on your part, enrolling into that school. Couldn't say I wasn't surprised… I should think you're not unfamiliar with Kondo Isamu and what he is capable of, Himura," Katsura continued, ignoring the question directed at him. He had his own planned course of conversation, and Himura wasn't going to disrupt it until all that he wanted to know had been duly filled in.
The teenager's hand clenched into a fist and unclenched, giving Katsura the blatant impression that he longed for a sharp object – his katana, maybe - to stab his superior in the guts. The hard amethyst eyes, framed by a waterfall of carnelian, did not look much more approachable either.
"Maybe I'm slightly suicidal, Katsura-san. Does that make it your business?" Sarcasm was definitely not his specialty; it sounded lame and childish, even to his own ears. But Kenshin didn't feel up to offering any witty barbs right now – he felt as though Kyoto had just collapsed upon his skull. He was just contemplating the idea of flooring the president with a hard punch and making a dash for school – couldn't help if he was late by an hour or two – when Katsura sank onto the leather couch across the room, facing the redhead with an air that marked the starting of negotiation.
"Alright, Himura. I'm sure you want to know why I wish to see you…and of course, I am also aware that you are late for school. It has been…taken care of." It was said in perfect seriousness; Katsura was all business in a second, regarding the emotionless façade before him with ebony eyes. Kenshin's stoic expression did not waver, so he continued.
"I have certain things that should draw your attention. The murder at Tsutoki High's laboratory…Sekihara Sae, for example." Kogoro glanced over, and saw the violet eyes widen in that instance. He'd hit on the right words, for sure. "But before that, I have just one question to ask you. A fair exchange of information, don't you think?"
The boy was silent, his gaze fixed on the window. But Katsura knew that he was hanging on to his every word; knew that he was thinking the offer over. It must have haunted the boy - that someone died because of him, that someone was still after him, relentless and unyielding despite his best efforts at camouflage. Katsura knew that he was playing on the soft part of the ex-hitokiri's heart. He did not consider the tactic immoral; it was a necessary part of negotiation.
"Why are you in Tsutoki High?"
The simple question caught the boy off guard; he had, perhaps, been expecting something harder to answer – if he was going to answer at all. "I…wanted out. I want to live like someone my age is supposed to…not hanging around pretending to be a normal person. To get a life, I suppose." He looked away; the words were wrenched from the depth of his mind. Katsura was the last person he wanted to confess to, but he didn't have a choice, as things were. "Shishou and I agreed that Kyoto is the safest place for me to stay, at least for the time being."
True. The most dangerous place is always the last place that your enemies would expect you to be in.
Katsura considered the notion for a second, watching the boy closely for any sign of untruth. Kenshin was never good at lying; it always set his features the colour of his flaming locks whenever he did that. It was a rather sweet trait, Katsura supposed.
"No other reasons?"
The student made a faintly disgusted noise. "No."
The president leant a hand thoughtfully on the sofa's armrest, as if considering how to word his next discussion point. He wondered how far he could push the conversation before the boy could not bear it anymore, and erupted into a violence that was beyond the young hitokiri's nature. That would result in dire injury on Kenshin's part rather than his own, given the curse, but was entirely unnecessary anyway. He wasn't particularly enthused in reducing the boy to a soulless puppet for no reason other than self-defense.
"Himura…you know the name Tokugawa Yoshinobu. The former president of the Tokugawa government who…stepped down from power at the end of the civil war."
Stepped down from power…that was a nice, presentable phrase. Kenshin felt anger flaring up again within him. But he knew – after all, wasn't it he who did it? Or was it him? The recollections were glazed over, as if he were seeing them through a glass pane – faint, surreal, and always lingering between consciousness and fantasy.
"Himura-kun! What are you doing? What happened…why are you…? "
Step, step. Another step, the clank of a katana being drawn from its sheath. Silence reigned.
"I shall deliver Tenchu." A flat, deadly tenor that matched the katana in its sharpness. "Tokugawa Yoshinobu, you will die tonight for your sins against the people."
And what sins were those? He couldn't remember, wasn't particularly concerned that he couldn't. It was not his job to memorize things that got in the way of work.
"NOOOOOOO!"
Amber eyes flashing in the dark. Blood, splattering all over his navy gi, staining the carpet a dull crimson as it spread over the floor.
"TOUSAN!"
Footsteps, a child's figure appearing in the doorway. Tears shimmering as the kid ran to kneel by the corpse; he contemplated doing away with the poor little soul, but something in his conscience stopped him. Instead, he swept away through the open window as the shadow he was.
Memories spun to the night before. The child's voice…it had been saying something; conveying something in that otherworldly serenity of his. He was a child too…why were their voices so different then? Were they even creatures of the same species?
"Have your soul been stolen, hitokiri?"
I'm sorry…I didn't mean to do this…I'm sorry…!
"Himura." Katsura's tone was alarmed; he reached forward, giving the young man a slight shake. "Battousai!"
Seeing his companion through dilated pupils, Kenshin collected enough wits to swat Katsura's hand off his shoulders. He took a deep breath, the blank façade barely in place. There was one thing he was sure though – he didn't need to break down in front of this particular bastard.
"I know the name." Himura was glad his voice didn't crack from overwhelming emotions. Kogoro retracted back to his couch, wearing an expression that was…was that concern? Kenshin promptly decided that the headache, plus the untimely flashback, were giving him hallucinations; Katsura's features were back to its usual nonchalance within a heartbeat.
"Good. The deal is here: Tokugawa Yoshinobu left behind a son who, according to certain intelligence, has remained in Kyoto under a false alias. In fact," he leant forward to look the teenager in the eyes, "it is our belief that he has sought refuge in Tsutoki High…the Shinsengumi's lair."
Kenshin started.
"Who that exact person is, and what he's thinking of doing under the Mibu's wings, we still have no idea. That is why I need you, Himura. I want you to pinpoint the last Tokugawa kin for me. We have adequate proof that he may be plotting a rebellion against the current government."
The boy came to his feet, bristling fiercely. He swayed at the sudden movement, catching himself as he laid a hand on the couch's back. "You want me to hand you an innocent boy just because he may jeopardize your position? You are a sadistic, power-hungry bastard, Katsura-san."
Katsura didn't even wince at the accusation. "I'll do anything if it means that the state may remain stable and powerful," he parried quietly. I'll do anything, even if it means having to use a teenager as a pawn.
"And why should I do that?" Kenshin's tone was cold, shaking involuntarily with fury. A lesser man would have found it intimidating; Katsura only raised his chin, surveying the boy with mild interest.
"There are only two ways to do the job. One, send a spy in and locate the rebel. Two, uproot the whole school and annihilate the enemy. Which would you prefer, Himura?"
Kenshin was silent for a moment. Then, without warning, he lunged for Katsura, intending to punch the long-hated man in the ribs. There was no way, none in the world, that he'd be blackmailed into doing such a thing!
Katsura only responded by narrowing his eyes…the next thing Kenshin knew, the room was tilting at a crazy angle; his vision slipping out of focus as a familiar pain sprang forth from its dormant state. Some part of him registered the softness of the carpet beneath him; Katsura's words filtered into the hazy conscious.
"One day, Himura. I'm giving you one day to consider."
One day.
Sometimes, Himura Kenshin wondered if his road to repentance really led to nowhere but infinity.
Glossary:
Kuso: all-purpose curse word
kun: a honorific used when addressing a close friend or a younger person