I should have died on the Death Star.
No... I should have died on Mustafar, with Anakin. Would have, if Padme's life had not hinged on mine. One swift dive into the flames, and both of us would be at peace...
Peace he had no right to claim, after all the lives he'd betrayed. He could still see the 'saber-torn bodies scattered over the Temple grounds; still feel the younglings' dead eyes branding accusation into his flesh-
Fire seared along his collarbone, and Obi-Wan shuddered. Tried to curl on himself to pull away.
Couldn't.
Arms bound above my head, can't move my ankles, and I think there's some kind of biting ant crawling in my hair - oh, Sithspit. He breathed in scents of sea spray and wet leaves, felt wind skimming chill over his skin, the subtle drum of waves through the rock underfoot, the scaly grate of bark against his back. Tied to a tree. Again. Just when I thought I'd never miss Tatooine.
A hiss, and the sulfur waft of a struck match. Smoke puffed a foul warmth across his face, carried on a samurai's low, unfamiliar snarl. "Where is he?"
---------------
Kaoru's going to kill me. Gingerly touching the edge of his black eye, Sanosuke trudged the last few feet to the dojo gate. Deliberately ignored the staring eyes and whispers running through the street's sunset crowd, and leaned on the gatepost, careful not to jar his ribs.
He didn't think they were broken. He'd had broken ribs before. They hurt like hell.
Not that mine feel all fine and dandy, damn that bastard Iwahashi...
His own fault for having a tough guy rep, Sano figured. When Saigo'd made that little hand-gesture that turned the Rebel-smuggler meet from peaceful to all-out slugfest, Iwahashi's guys had relied on fists as well as stun blasts.
Then they dumped me in the ditch like so much garbage, and took off. Fists curled, shaking in outrage. I'm going to kill those idiots-
Only... everything he'd heard said Saigo wasn't an idiot. Hot-tempered, maybe; proud, definitely. But not an idiot.
So why would he have his guys jump me? I made delivery, damn it. I kept my mouth shut. I steered clear of the Imperials. And I sure as hell wasn't coming back to try and squeeze out a few more credits; Iwahashi knew that right up front. All I wanted was info on where the hell Katsu was.
He'd spent all yesterday scouring Tokyo for his wayward copilot, from glittering high-class streets to the lowest dockside dives. Nothing. Katsuhiro hadn't left a note, he wasn't answering comm-calls, and none of the subtle tracers the two smugglers used to keep in touch were responding. Which meant he'd made himself untraceable.
Meaning Katsu's busy finding a way to screw the Empire. Damn it.
Only Katsu would never let himself be out of touch this long. Ever.
Which all boils down to, he found more trouble than he could handle, Sano recalled grimly. Meaning it was probably more trouble than I could handle, without backup.
So he'd called on the one place he knew he could find backup, no questions asked. The Kamiya dojo.
Three sort-of samurai, and a kid. I could cry.
Reputation or not, Sano wasn't about to bring the ex-Demon of Kyoto anywhere near a bunch of hair-trigger Rebels. Besides, Kenshin still looked like a wrung-out dishrag. And somebody had to watch over Takani.
Next contestant, please.
Kaoru would have been his first choice anyway. Maybe she was as hot-tempered as a neko-ao with its tail stomped on, but she was honest as a tatami-weaver's measure. Which was its own kind of protection; if she said all she wanted to do was find Katsu, even the most paranoid Rebel would believe her.
Only Obi-Wan had cut in before he could even start to ask, weaving a web of words about teachers and apprentices and not exposing Yahiko to bad influences...
Yeah, right. The kid was in with the Yakuza, and you're worried the Rebels would be a bad influence?
Then again, he could kind of see Kenobi's point. After all, all he'd tried to do was ask a simple question, and look where it'd gotten him.
Damn it, Katsu, what have you gotten yourself into this time?
Something big. Had to be. Saigo wouldn't have been anywhere near that little seaside shrine if he didn't think he had to hear intelligence coming in from the city firsthand.
Something big enough they'd kill a gaijin, just on the off chance he could be an Imperial?
No. If they were going to kill Obi-Wan, they'd have done it then and there.
You hope, a bitter part of him pointed out. Could be they thought the Sekihoutai was still worth keeping as an option. So they just took him out of sight, blasted him dead, and dumped him in the sea.
Space, he hoped not.
He's samurai. Sort of. Don't count him dead 'til you see the body.
So. He'd gotten Obi-Wan into this, he was obligated to get him out of it. Somehow.
Besides, there were a bunch of Rebels who still owed him answers.
Not that I've even got a good idea where to start looking... there was salt on a few of those guys' wrist wrappings, sure, but we've got a heck of a lot of coast out here. Sano grimaced. And how the hell am I going to explain this? "I took your guest out to help me look for Katsu, and I lost him"? Oh yeah. That's gonna go over real well.
He just needed a little air. Just a few breaths.
Okay, make that a few gulps.
Enough stalling. One more bracing breath, and Sano reached out to open the gate. Kaoru's going to kill me...
Wood swung open, untouched.
"Sano." Violet met his gaze, grim and worried. "Where is Kenobi-san?"
...If Kenshin doesn't do it first.
---------------
"Where is he?"
Cold. Gloating. Worse than a droid, who might be only programmed to inflict pain. This... this creature had chosen the darkness.
"Huh. Wake up." Another puff of smoke, wafting pain into tearing eyes. "Saigo didn't turn you over so I could kill you, you know."
Saigo Takamori, Obi-Wan thought fuzzily, trying to put the pieces together. The Rebel leader. Why...?
Katsuhiro. Katsu's missing.
And Sano has a Bad Feeling about that.
Not that the young man would realize that was the Force reaching out to him, trying to carry some warning of his comrade's fate. Any more than a certain wayward young smuggler had, staring down something that wasn't a moon...
Obi-Wan grounded himself in that memory of Solo, trying to shut away the pain. Hot and burning in waves, crashing against one odd ring of chill... If Katsu was in that much trouble, Sano believed the Rebels probably weren't going to hand over answers just for asking. He was heading out of the city to meet with a contact; he meant to take Kaoru. I talked him out of it. Yahiko's too young, too angry - I will not let another master get killed in front of her student.
Besides, Megumi's still in danger. And good as he is, Kenshin's still convalescing-
Kenshin. Kenshin... and Saigo.
They're connected. Somehow. Why can't I remember?
Well, the pain probably has something to do with it, a more sane part of his mind snarked. Why don't you meditate it away?
Why not, indeed? He took a soft, subtle breath, reached out to the Force...
Nothing.
A heavy chill about his throat. And the world was flat and empty.
A force collar!
---------------
"Saigo Takamori took Kenobi-san." Kenshin adjusted his sedge hat as he ghosted up a faint cliff-side trail, trying not to wince at the crunch of Sano's ship-boots on stray fragments of pumice. Can't he sense his footing before he steps- no, he likely can't. Ah well. "Why…?"
Breathing a bit hard, Sano didn't - quite - clutch his ribs. "How the hell should I know? Damn idealistic idiots - evade Imperial tariffs, sure, and I wouldn't hand over anybody to the stormtroopers, but anybody who thinks they can take on a whole galaxy-"
"Forgive; it wasn't a question, that it was not." Kenshin paused to give his companion time to breathe, disguising it with a measuring look toward the ocean. Rocky cliffs, part of which had fractured off millennia before to form a series of islands like a hook in the sea, and very little beach - but what sand there was, bore distinctive drag marks of a boat. And there is smoke in the air, pine and salt… driftwood? Hmm.
"Hang on a sec." Sano took a few breaths; gave up and just gulped for air, staring down violet. "You know why he grabbed the guy?"
"Know, I do not," Kenshin stated, reaching out with his senses to make sure they were still unwatched. That, behind the largest island, is likely a fishing boat… spread out that way, to our east, the village it came from; and those lives, plunging into the chill to reap seaweed and shellfish, yet human… divers. Well, well. "Guesses… yes, those I do have. Satsuma saw no problem with off-worlders, so long as they knew their place; and Saigo-san was a child of Satsuma to the bone. One doubts the man has changed since last I met him. Few of us do," he observed, half to himself. "Time may uncover facets we kept hidden as younger souls, but it is a rare being who can truly change."
"Knew their place - wait. You've met Saigo?"
"Years ago." A wry, bitter smile curved the rurouni's lips. "When one was first told of the man, one expected our first meeting to be our last."
Sano froze. Turned. Stared. "You mean- he- you-"
Kenshin inclined his head. "At the time, he was a threat to Katsura-san."
"But Satsuma and Choushuu were allies!"
"Not," Kenshin said darkly, "for the first five years of the war."
Sanosuke's jaw worked, taking in that stunning statement; he shook his head, and pinned the smaller man with a glare. "Talk."
"They truly do not teach history well these days, that they don't…." Talk, indeed. What could he say? How could he boil down the chaos and hopes and back-stabbing to a few, simple words?
Strike to the heart, baka, a voice of memory grumbled. Always, strike to the heart.
And if you were such a good speaker, Shishou, why did I leave? Kenshin thought wryly.
But it wasn't as if he had a better idea. "Remember that the Revolution was as much about power as ideals, that it was," the rurouni said bluntly. "When Choushuu took the lead in agitating against the off-worlders and for our emperor, Satsuma had two choices: they could follow Choushuu's example, and be second in rank among the loyalists… or they could be first to speak against us, and be the Shogunate's hammer to crush a rebel han." Kenshin met that angry brown glare. "One believes you know samurai pride, that I do."
Sano swallowed dryly. "So Satsuma-"
"Inflicted many losses on Choushuu, so long as they saw the Shogunate as the more powerful," Kenshin stated. "Saigo was one of the first to call for harsh measures against us, and did all he could to ensure as many of the clan elders as possible would be ordered to suicide. Had Katsura-san not managed to make himself invisible among the river-folk, he might have been ordered so as well." Kenshin looked into memory, recalling those dark days. "Katsura-san told this one that if a leader must die for the good of the clan, so be it - but if that were to happen, Saigo Takamori was no longer to breathe the air of this world."
Sano gulped. "Please tell me Saigo doesn't know this."
Kenshin sighed.
"You didn't tell him!"
"One's not that foolish," Kenshin grumbled. "But when Satsuma and Choushuu did make alliance, two years before the war's end… there were those in power among Choushuu, whom Katsura-san had to keep mollified, who thought it prudent to make clear to our new allies what they risked, should they deceive us."
The smuggler looked as if he'd taken one of Kaoru's nastier blows to the head. "You're Saigo's personal bogeyman."
Kenshin sighed again. "One has no idea why. It was well known one was no longer a hitokiri at that time. Katsura's bodyguard, yes; and one who struck at the enemies of Choushuu, in defense of our people. Though if they had turned traitor, one supposes Satsuma would have been that…."
"He's not just mad 'cause you won't work for him," Sano went on, thinking it out, "he wants you dead."
"It is," Kenshin admitted, "most likely."
"Kuso."
Kenshin shrugged. "He is not the first to wish this one dead and buried. One's still breathing, that I am."
"Space, no wonder Jou-chan's so worried about you," Sano grumbled. "You know the guy wants to kill you, and you let me drag you out here…."
"For Kenobi-san's sake." Kenshin lifted his shoulders, let them fall. "Had one known whom you meant to meet, Sano, one would have urged you to take any ki-user but him. Even Yahiko would have been safer."
"Hey, I didn't know Saigo would be there until he-" Sano stopped. Held up blocking hands. "You want to explain, knew their place?"
Kenshin sighed. "That you ask, Sano... means you already know."
Sano's mouth quirked into a humorless grin. "I'm feeling kind of slow today."
The rurouni bowed his head. "For the past century and more, Satsuma has met its tax requirements through the brown cane plantations. Those, Meiji has forced to alter more than almost any other han; the past twenty years has seen them become humane, if not paradise. The sweetness no longer screams when one tastes it."
Sano blinked. "Screams?"
"For licking one's finger when the cane was crushed, a peasant suffered twenty lashes," Kenshin said flatly. "To hold back any part of the harvest meant imprisonment, or death. To grow anything but the cane was illegal. To hold money was illegal. Satsuma's lord set the price he would pay for cane, and Satsuma samurai alone could fetch supplies from the rest of the han, or places outside, to exchange for that price." A shadow of a shrug. "In name, it was not slavery."
"Che..." Sano dug his fingers into spiky hair. "And you worked with these guys?" He shot a sudden look at the redhead. "Can't be. Ninja never would have stood for it."
"Onmitsu," Kenshin said evenly, "were eliminated."
Sano stared at him.
"Anyone with ki, who was not samurai, was killed," Kenshin went on. "Has been killed, in Satsuma, for centuries. Satsuma's daimyo determined long ago how to keep their han financially intact, and what measures they would need to keep the peasants... docile."
Sano swallowed.
"And to this samurai of Satsuma, this man who wishes the old ways of the Shogunate to return, you introduced an off-worlder," Kenshin said gently. "An off-worlder with ki - for while Saigo-san's skill with it may be small, it is enough to sense Obi-Wan's strength." He shook his head. "One is not surprised that he was shot, Sanosuke. One is surprised he was only stunned."
Sano groaned. "Jou-chan's going to kill me..."
Kenshin looked away, allowing the smuggler time to collect himself. There was just a glimmer on the edge of his ki sense, more sensed than seen; if he could just let his mind stay unfocussed a little longer- "Was there anything before the stunning that hinted why Saigo-san would want him alive? Anything at all?"
Sano threw up empty hands. "I've been over and over it, and I can't think of anything. Traded code words with his front guy Iwahashi, I introduced myself, then him-" The smuggler stopped.
Kenshin lifted a questioning brow.
"Kenobi," Sano stated. "Saigo heard the name, jumped, looked over at us - and turned dead white. Next thing I knew, stunbolts everywhere."
Kenshin frowned.
"I don't like that look, Kenshin." Sano crossed his arms. "You're thinking about something, and I don't like it."
"Kaoru-dono is very kind," Kenshin said carefully. "And trusting."
Sano winced. "You think he's got a history."
"As Kaoru-dono would say, we all have things in our past we don't want to talk about." He gave Sano a resigned look. "But as this one would say, the past can sometimes find one. And that is rarely pleasant, that it is not." And… there. An emptiness where a light in the Force should be. And near it, the ghost-flicker of a dark ki working to conceal itself.
So.
Kenshin closed his eyes, slowing his breathing to slow the body's impulse to panic. Yes, there was peril. Yes, there was the risk of pain, and worse than death. The strength he had used to save Obi-Wan's life, and then Megumi's, had left him weakened even now. Were this the Bakumatsu, he would already be dead.
But it is not, and I do not face the likes of Saitou Hajime. Thank the gods.
A subtle sigh, and he reached into his gi for his carrying pouch, drawing out a cloudy blue crystal the size of his thumbnail.
Sano tensed. "Is that-"
"It would have made the focus for a student's blade, yes," Kenshin nodded. "One meant it for Kaoru-dono… but one doubts she would object to this use, that I do." Cupping translucent blue between his palms, he stared into it, feeling the whisper in the Force that was atoms and quantum particles ready and waiting to attune to new purpose.
For the crystal is the core of the blade is the soul of the samurai-
Presence poured from his ki into waiting crystal, draining away like liquid light. All that was left within flesh and bone were shadows; a gentle rain, unseen on an autumn evening, as a family tired from the day gathered close to the fire….
I haven't had to use this trick in a very long time.
"What did you just do?" Sano asked warily.
Kenshin rolled charged crystal between his fingers, gauging the flickers of ruby within blue. "When hunting one who uses ki, one is either searching for something very bright, or only a shimmer in the background, as the-" target "-one sought attempts to hide. Either can be tracked, if one knows what one is doing. One who does not use ki, in truth, can be harder to find; for while they cannot conceal their presence, neither does it burn in the night like a beacon fire. They can be lost in the crowd; not invisible, but impossible to find as one white scale in a flock of angry ataru."
"You want me to play decoy." The smuggler's voice was angry, but brown eyes were thoughtful.
"Kenobi-san," Kenshin nodded toward the largest island, "is there. And he is not alone; that he is not."
"Now I know I don't like this."
Kenshin smiled. "Maa, maa, Sanosuke; one does have a plan." And not half as risky as some I used in the Revolution. I hope. "First, we need to borrow a boat…."
---------------
Ice water dashed across his face; Obi-Wan gasped, and blinked at the sting of it. Salt. Bastard.
Green eyes glittered at him in the twilight, touched with madness; his tormentor smirked, strands of gray hair falling over the skintight black fabric framing his face. "Awake? I thought so."
"Where's Katsuhiro?" Obi-Wan managed. Keep him off balance. He wants control. Don't let him have it!
"How should I know?" One gloved hand drifted near the sabers at his side; the samurai snorted, and smirked wide enough to show teeth. "One of these hours, I'm going to get bored asking. And then you'll wish you had talked. Where is Hitokiri Battousai?"
"I. Don't. Know," the Jedi gritted out. "Damn it, what is wrong with you people? A month ago I'd never even heard of the man. Now I'm getting ambushed by absolute strangers... don't any of you delusional paranoids even know what he looks like?"
Mad green narrowed. Studied him. Went from puzzled, to dawning, madly delighted comprehension.
"Uh-hu. Uh-hu. Uh-hu-hu-ha-ha-hah!"
Oh wonderful. I've managed to crack up the homicidal maniac.
"You really don't know." Still chuckling, his tormentor stepped back, raking the Jedi with his eyes. "Saigo does know what he looks like. He's one of the few Satsuma fools to ever touch the blood of the Demon of Kyoto... and walk away alive."
Which made no sense whatsoever. If that very tall, very heavy-set man had been Saigo - as Sano's sharp look, just before their little forest meeting went completely berserk, had implied he was - he'd been the one to turn their rendezvous from polite brush-off to stunner-laced ambush-
Searing pain.
"Malevolent parasite of a-" Obi-Wan clamped down on the rest of the Huttese insult, glaring at the burning cylinder of dried leaves. Don't beg. Don't cower. He's insane. But he must have some shreds of rationality, or he'd never have lasted in the Rebellion this long. Try to reach it. "Kurogasa." The name was a faint memory of Saigo's voice, blurred by stunning, but the samurai's twitch told him he'd struck the mark. "If you know I don't know, what's the damn point?"
"Pain is the point." The smirk was back. "I doubt a gaijin has the power to sense him... but if he's here, and Saigo thinks he is, he'll sense you."
Sense me? Are you ignorant on top of insane? You can't just toss someone's pain into the Force and expect it to lure in your prey. To feel my pain, he'd need a Force bond-
-And if he is the healer Gensai found, he made one.
The Dark one had broken it, yes. But even those shreds of shadow left behind might be enough to do what Kurogasa wanted.
Especially with torture involved. The Dark Side carries pain so frighteningly well.
He was the Negotiator; not a flicker of reaction showed on his face. "I'm with the Kamiya dojo. If you think a sword-style that defends life ever taught an assassin-"
"Hah!" Snake-swift, Kurogasa yanked out strands of auburn hair. Twirled one around his finger, chuckling. "I'd heard the Jedi kept their stolen brats ignorant of their own clans, but I never really believed it."
He knows I was taken by the Jedi? How-? Don't react. Don't react. He wants you to ask; don't give him that power-
Blistering pain.
"What?" As he lifted the smoking leaves away, Kurogasa's smile was all white teeth. "Don't you want to know?"
"Oddly enough," Obi-Wan gasped, "I have the distinct impression you plan to tell me anyway."
"Hah!" An odd sort of respect seemed to blend into the smirk. "Maybe even gaijin blood does tell. He never broke either; not even when the Bakufu caught him, once…."
He never broke either.
Legend says Battousai has red hair.
On this world, red hair is from the deepest mountains… or off-world….
No!
"So… the light begins to dawn." Red gleamed in Kurogasa's gaze, the Dark Side burning bright. "Uh-hu. Uh-hu…."
No. Rational thought broke through Obi-Wan's frozen shock, habits of a lifetime's training shutting away emotion. I saw the court recording. And the fight with Ulloriaq. Owen wasn't the right height. He couldn't have been Battousai. Battousai was-
Battousai was… shorter.
It was a shock to an already-stunned system. He hadn't realized how much he'd internalized the picture those about him had painted of the legendary assassin. Who was supposed to be a giant, after all; he'd seen the repaired floor of Kaoru's dojo where the imposter's reign of terror had come to a sudden, ignominious end. You didn't make that big a hole if you weren't near Wookie size.
Then again, the holo-reporters always thought I was too short, as well.
"He wasn't easy to track," Kurogasa said off-handedly, his air one of a man taking cruel pity on a poor, confused victim. "Even when Katsura allied with Saigo's Rebellion, he took his dragon's secrets to his grave. Saigo didn't have his clan, his name, or even his home han." He bent just a little nearer, sharing a delightful secret. "But he did have his blood."
"Blood you have wronged will find you."
"It shouldn't have led anywhere," Kurogasa shrugged. "Before the Empire, no samurai ever submitted to the indignity of a gene scan. But off-worlders… off-worlders without corporations to back them, who dared to travel beyond the approved ports… well."
Oh space... Obi-Wan blinked away sweat with sinking dread. Qui-Gon's going to call me an idiot, and I'll deserve it. It was right in front of me, and I didn't know. I looked at Kaoru, at Hana's child, and I didn't know.
If Owen was on this planet, if he was a sensitive, if he lived their lives, and I know he was trying to...
"But maybe you gaijin aren't as blind to honor as you'd like us to think," Kurogasa mused. "After all…." He waggled his hair-wrapped finger, before inserting the strand into a small, familiar device.
Medical scanner, set to - gene comparison? No-
Eyes gleaming, Kurogasa deliberately turned the screen so his victim could read it.
Second degree relation: 99.97.
"-It took him years, but your brother's son did take a fitting revenge."
Owen's son. Obi-Wan couldn't breathe. Owen had children… space, keep him talking! "Revenge?" He wet cracked lips. "For me?"
"Hah!"
Obi-Wan allowed himself a roll of eyes as psychotic laughter rang over the cliffs once more. All right, not for me, then why-
Corellian law. The realization was a knife of ice. Owen's children would have been tested. And if his midi-chlorian count was high enough for training….
"The brave Watchman made it clear Kenobi Owen's children would be hers by law," Kurogasa sneered. "No household dared take him after that. He lost his apprenticeship, he lost his engagement contract - he was lucky his master had enough pity on him to send him out into the wilderness to lose his name and marry into some peasants' kinu association. Or not lucky. It was in an area used by an off-world chemical organization, and there were… accidents." A snicker. "That village doesn't exist today."
Ulloriaq killed him. Oh, not by Republic law, no; but by the honor and kin-ties that ruled this planet's society? Obi-Wan had been on enough so-called primitive planets to know how honor debts worked. Rayen Ulloriaq would have been better off driving her blade through Owen's heart. That would have been considered a reasonable, straightforward death, easily settled by a higher lord. This… if Kurogasa were telling the truth, Ulloriaq had committed one of the darkest crimes this world knew: isolating a man from all that should have protected him, and leaving him to die a useless death.
And his family. And his people. His home. Kenshin told me, the Shogunate was bound to people who didn't care if they left this planet a poisoned cinder. The rage and sorrow I felt from him when he said it… he must have seen this.
That, truly, could create a Battousai.
"Gaijin or not, blood calls to blood." Red gleamed in mad green eyes. "With his strength, if you're in pain on the same planet... he'll know."
Now, that's ridiculous. I've never heard of a Coruscanti Jedi ever-
But Coruscanti Jedi didn't have families.
And Corellian Jedi wouldn't leave theirs. Not for more than a mission at a time - and that only if they were in hot pursuit with CorSec...
The twins. The twins had been near Vader. On the same battle station.
Stars. If he's sensed them - if he knows-!
Breathe. And hope. Fear was of the Dark Side; now, of all times, he must not yield to it.
I made myself obvious. I made certain the Force held my signature, not theirs. And while I know Leia was tortured, Vader could not have sensed her. Or he'd have-
What? Stopped the torment? Let her go? The man who had been his apprentice, his brother, had slaughtered every youngling in the Temple. Why should he have shown mercy to a young Rebel who stood against everything Palpatine was and would be?
Oh, Anakin... why? Why?
He had to remember what was, not what had been. Leia had been in Vader's hands, not Anakin's. And if Darth Vader had sensed who she was, what she was-
He'd have delivered her to the Emperor himself. The perfect gift of loyalty to the darkness.
"How does it feel?" Kurogasa breathed. Mock concern smoothed his smile, as knowing eyes searched for delightful despair in his victim's soul. "Knowing your line gave birth to the most ruthless killer this world has ever known?"
Obi-Wan laughed.
Caught flat-footed, the torturer stared.
"Thank you," the Jedi said, with all the genteel sincerity a man bound, blistered, and in agony could muster. "You've given me a very great reason to live." Leia escaped. Luke won. And Owen's son survived. Despite everything, he survived...
And if he was Gensai's anonymous healer, the Dark Side did not have him. Not yet.
But if the Emperor finds him, he will be destroyed. Utterly.
Raised on this world or not, after all, he was a Kenobi. And Palpatine had had more than enough experience with that name to think better of letting it walk free. The Emperor would turn him… or, if Battousai still clung to whatever desperate strength or vow that had turned him away from the Dark-
Death. Death of yet another soul who tried to shelter a little Light in the Empire's shadow.
I will not allow it.
So. He was half-naked, sick, disarmed, tied - very tightly - to a tree, and near fainting from pain. With an armed, psychotic madman of a Dark Side Force-user watching his every move.
Well, he'd worked with worse odds before...
---------------
Torture. Clinging to cracks and crevices in the jagged volcanic cliff, Kenshin had to pause, swallowing a wave of nausea from the phantom pain. Waves shushed against black sand and rock, far below; the sea calling to its wayward kin seeping from his clothes, cold counterpoint to skin that insisted it was not chilled and whole, but seared and weeping. Obi-Wan is being tortured.
By someone with a dark love of fire, if the burning in his collarbone was anything to go by. Kami be thanked, he'd never been strong in the Unifying Force. The Living Force carried emotions, yes - but not for impossibly long distances, and never with the shocking immediacy of visions, which would half-convince a Unifying user they were the one in helpless agony. No; this close to one he had healed, he felt echoes of the torment, but nothing worse.
Not that that's not bad enough….
Breathe. Focus. The torture was important, any soul who inflicted pain on another could not be brushed aside - but the goal was Kenobi's freedom.
Break him loose, stop the torture. Simple, baka. Keep it simple.
Time. Check the time.
He didn't have a chrono. Couldn't have risked the light to read one if he did have it.
Didn't matter. He'd been born and raised in the mountains, where time was an angle of sun, a wheel of stars. Tokyo's lights might dim the night even this far from the spaceport, but the brightest stars were enough to read.
Sano has been moving in for ten minutes. He should be in our enemy's ki-sensing range… now.
Breathing with the beat of the tide, mind chill as spray-touched rock, Kenshin waited.
Er… now?
Still no change, in the vicious darkness overhead.
Mou… I know I'm better at sensing ki than most, but this is getting ridiculous-
Surprise! Delight! Fury!
Biting his lip down to the taste of copper, Kenshin clung to stone and thought of sand, rock, the sea….
Bloodlust!
It flamed in his soul, calling to the killer he had once been. Begging him to cast aside the rurouni's gentle mask and fight; for the Enemy was here, and if it walked free, everything he loved would be in danger….
I. Will. Not!
Night. He was night, and sleepy seaside ataru huddled in cliff-crevices for nests, and the ragged thrum of waves against broken stone.
Yet there was fire blazing above; in the night, in his veins. It called to him like a geisha, like a dark-eyed, fan-masked kitsune, singing sweet ruin and the cherry-petal fall of blood.
I… can't hold….
I must!
And the cyclone of lip-licking fury swept away, sweeping down the gentler path to the shore of the landward side of the island. The only path, most would say; barely fit for a neko-ao, much less a human. No one would free-climb the sheer, earthquake-sliced cliff that was the sea side of this tiny isle.
But then, the rurouni had spent a great deal of time being no one.
Move. I have to….
But he was still shaking; the pull was so strong, the persuasive whispers of the dark soul within him, the warrior that had survived the Revolution, so temptingly right.
Battousai could save Kenobi. Easily. As he had saved so many of Choushuu, those desperate, heart-breaking times he'd been able to rescue instead of murder….
I will not.
He was a wanderer. Only a wanderer. And he had promised.
When this war is over, I will find a way to protect without killing.
Breathe. Be rock. Be water.
And climb.
---------------
Gone. Obi-Wan regarded the night through slit eyes, taking in the white glow of a rising moon. A faint hint of gray marked where the medical scanner had landed, cast away in his tormentor's haste to start the hunt. So either the maniac's plan worked, and Battousai is out there, or-
Well, or didn't truly matter. For the moment, Kurogasa was gone.
Which meant it was time to leave.
Past time, I'd say. Grimacing in anticipation, the Jedi prepared to twist muscle and bone in ways a thumb was never meant to move-
Clammy chill touched his hand.
He stifled a yelp at the cost of a bitten tongue; kicked out-
Felt his foot slide by wet cotton, not even brushing the flesh beneath, and blinked at amused violet. Oops.
Damn. He looks like a half-drowned kitten.
Kenshin held a finger to his lips, then stood on tiptoe to examine each of the Jedi's bonds. Nodded once - a professional summing-up that did not sort at all with the soaked youngster he looked like - reached into his sleeve, and drew out a familiar fan.
Right; you can use a vibro-blade no matter how wet it gets, Obi-Wan recalled, as the humming blue edge parted each strand of rope in turn. Hmm, you are a bit overcautious, aren't you, my young friend? Even soaked as you are, you couldn't possibly drip enough to short out your lightsaber. Wincing as he sagged away from the tree, he lifted an aching arm, and indicated the force collar.
Kenshin shook his head.
What? Why not? Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.
Kenshin pointed to the collar. Looked down the path Kurogasa had taken. Cupped a hand near his ear, and touched it to his heart.
You believe he'd sense me back in the Force? Kenshin, no one on the Dark Side is trained that well-
Palpatine had been. And he did not know how Dark Side users on this planet were trained.
Not to mention, the man knew you were involved with the Jedi somehow, and still didn't think you were much of a threat, Obi-Wan reminded himself. When on Corellia, listen when CorSec tells you you're being an idiot. Nodding, he spread empty hands, then tilted his head in question.
Kenshin hesitated, teeth finding an already bloody spot on his lip as he looked over the extent of the Jedi's wounds.
Could be worse, Obi-Wan thought bluntly, examining the damage with his own, critical eye as Kenshin walked away. Has been, in the past; he really wasn't trying to kill me. Hurt, yes. But I'll live. He stretched - carefully - and gingerly picked his way over to the medical scanner. One scan, and he could check for sure….
Hand on the scanner, the Jedi hesitated. Saved the data still blinking on the screen, and tucked the little device out of sight.
It's not bad enough for a scanner. However you got here, Kenshin, I'm sure I can follow you back out-
Kneeling by the cliff edge, Kenshin mouthed a silent curse.
Obi-Wan stopped. Forced himself to walk over to that sheer drop. Looked at his wet companion - his wet, grit-smeared companion - and came to the obvious, heart-sinking conclusion.
You came up that?
Kenshin sighed. Paced down the edge, studying rocks and waves and wind. Smiled a little at the play of moonlight on water; one spot not too far from the cliff foot reflected glassy white-gold, unbroken by the foam in water near it.
Glancing at his companion, Kenshin made paddling motions with his hands.
Er… yes, I can swim, what-
There was nothing under him but air.
Heart in his throat, Obi-Wan forced his feet together and prepared to splash. I don't care if revenge is unworthy of a Jedi. If I survive this, Kenshin-
Water hit like plascrete.
---------------
Cold watchfulness. Driven purpose. Predatory intent, glimmering like quicksilver. And laced through it all, the utter confidence of one born to wield a blade.
The man Saigo's ignorant fools called Kurogasa prowled spray-slick rocks, nostrils flared, senses spread wide and seeking. His target was vague, faint; there and not there, like a cork bobbing in the waves.
Like a hitokiri, drifting in the shadows.
This will be the best killing.
He licked his lips, the fire of the hunt driving him on into the teeth of the wind. As it would have driven him into the heart of a typhoon; what other reason was there for living, beyond that one red instant of triumph?
To hunt Hitokiri Battousai… oh, I have dreamed of this moment!
He'd never had the chance, in the Revolution; Battousai was no fool. The redheaded assassin had guarded Katsura from all possible harm. Including the risk of ever getting within sight of a hitokiri whose rumored skills with ki included-
Setting one sandaled foot down soundlessly at the edge of a tide-pool, Kurogasa smirked. Well. Never mind. He knew what he could accomplish - and if Battousai did as well, the hunt was all the sweeter.
Sweet enough for the mere thought of it to draw him into Saigo's service, these past years. The Empire swore Battousai was dead, a casualty of Toba Fushimi. He'd believed them for over a decade, cursing that fate had taken his chance to fight the most feared killer of the Revolution….
Until research for one of his own assassinations had turned up evidence of other, interesting searches. By the government… and the Rebels.
Yamagata and Saigo both think Battousai's alive.
And Saigo's so much more fun to work for.
A Rebellion needed a lot of killing, after all. So long as he targeted the government fools Saigo wanted dead, no one much cared how many guards he mowed down to get to them.
Soft fools. None of them would have survived a week in Kyoto-
There! Faint, and flickering, and-
In the water. Where my 'saber will short out with one good splash, leaving you the advantage. Not a fool, are you, Battousai?
Grinning, he drew his vibro-blade and slashed down-
Glass shattered.
What?
Splashing into the waves, Kurogasa hauled out a dripping mass no heavier than a book. Three glass globes, netted together with rounds of floatwood between; green, amber, and blue, though the blue was cracked and gaping from his strike, glinting indigo in the moonlight.
A fisherman's float?!?
Stolen; he could feel that from the echoes of righteous fury and sneakiness dripping off with seawater. Just as he could still feel that echo that had to be Battousai, glimmering in the net-
Glimmering ruby and sapphire, in a small blue crystal lashed to the green glass of the float.
The top glass, Kurogasa realized. The one that would bob and soak in the waves, dimming its aura like shadows….
Abandoning caution, he slashed his senses across the night. Over the beach, up the trail, to a tree that still held faint echoes of a prisoner's pain.
Night and rock and sea.
And one cloudy student's crystal, laughing at him like Kyoto's bloody rain.
"Damn you, Battousai!"
---------------
"Pull and one and pull and two and pull-"
Dripping into the bottom of the boat, Obi-Wan tried not to stare as their rescuers sculled in to the beach, holding Kenshin close as the smaller man finally gave up and let his teeth chatter. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. You're… mermaids?"
The pair of white-skirted divers who'd helped them both into the wooden skiff giggled behind their hands. The younger lady was still sorting through strands of the boat's load of seaweed, light jacket barely drawn across her bare breasts; her mother hadn't bothered, gooseflesh purple as she flourished a rather impressive knife, trimming a plate-sized crab-creature into soup bits. Likely for tonight's late supper, by the way the two rowers were eyeing various pieces as they dropped into a carrying bag.
Husband and brother. I think. Obi-Wan shook his head, amazed yet again by human diversity. Who'd have thought to find members of his own species living in a fashion more suited to Gungans? Well, it seems to suit them. They're certainly healthy enough, given the amount of muscular development in evidence… and mammary development, oh dear….
That had better not be a snicker, Kenshin.
Not that he could tell if it was, which was very frustrating. Damn force collar. He felt… confined. Trapped in his own skull. Helpless.
As I was after Jabiim….
No. Think. Of all the enemies he could expect to meet here, the mad Sith Asajj Ventress was not one of them. This was temporary. Only temporary, until they could get to land and Kenshin could cut the damn thing off-
"D-do not!"
Hand near the collar, Obi-Wan hesitated.
"T-the lock is c-c-complicated," Kenshin got out, huddling to try and avoid the worst of the breeze. "One disarmed the t-tracker, but one will need tools, and another pair of eyes, for the rest." His voice dropped, almost unheard through the grate of sand against their hull. "If Kaoru-dono does not flatten this one simply for asking for Yahiko-kun's assistance, as she very well should…."
Kaoru's right, he is too thin… oh. Oh, dear. Obi-Wan swallowed hard, and scrambled out onto the shore, suddenly sure of what Kenshin was not saying.
I'm wearing a bomb.
Damn. Kurogasa was a nasty soul.
Try to think about something else. Try to - oh, blast. "Shouldn't we be getting away from them?" Obi-Wan murmured, just loud enough for his companion to hear.
Kenshin gave him a weary smile, trying not to shake in the wind as they stumbled up the rocky path. "T-told you our history, Kenobi-san. The collar will work no matter what one throws at it - slavers are merchants, after all - but circuits meant for war are samurai work. Or ninja. They're based on lightsaber technology. S-soak them in water when they are active-"
"I believe I have the general idea, yes." So splash hadn't been simply the quickest, if most nerve-wracking, means of getting clear of Kurogasa's reach. Someone, somewhere, taught you to think tactically. Interesting. "Stop moving, Kenshin, we need to get you-" The taste of smoke drifted through his nose. "Warm," the Jedi said, relieved.
Under her share of the load of seaweed, the older mermaid snorted. "Well, of course he needs to get warm! Drylander idiot, thinks he can take a plunge like an ama born. And a man to boot!"
"Oi!" Under another bundle, a fist waved. "Some of us can swim, Wife!"
"And some crows can talk," she shot back. "Nobody thinks they know what they're doing."
Balancing her load on her head, the younger girl still managed a sly tilt of her eyebrows. "I like a man who's not sure what he's doing."
Obi-Wan tried not to freeze in his tracks. Surely, she can't mean-
Still looking at him, avoiding the rocks without a thought as they walked, the young woman licked her lips. And winked.
…Oh, dear.
"Keep moving," Kenshin said under his breath. "Just keep moving."
"Indeed," the Jedi said faintly. Fixed his eyes firmly ahead, on the large woven wood-and-brush enclosure, and its smoke-drifting promise of warmth. He could hear gossip and laughter inside, as the folk of the village built into the cliffs now opening ahead of them relaxed from what had to be a long day's work on the water. Careful. You're not safe yet. Hard-working souls are usually honest, but they're often desperately poor as well. It only takes one to decide he's better off turning a stranger in to the authorities….
Wait a moment. Are those women's voices?
Oh, shoot me now.
Kenshin's chill hand dragged him in regardless, as their two rowers dumped their seaweed and sauntered out of sight, bag of crab bits swinging in the husband's fist. The young wanderer ignored their ribald parting comments, pressed as close to the central flames as he could get and not char. Waves of flesh and skin parted for the shivering redhead like a clucking, worried sea; carved gourd cups of steaming tea appeared from all sides, and there were suddenly all too many hands helping his chill-clumsy fingers manage cotton ties.
"Thank you, thank you - no, thank you," Obi-Wan insisted firmly, as all but the skimpiest bit of cloth was whisked off him to be dunked in a barrel of fresh water, then steamed out with the rest of the sea-sodden garments.
Sea-sodden women's garments.
Including the skirts.
Local customs, nudity taboos vary from planet to planet, just smile and be polite… my word. That young woman is - er - nursing? In public?
And she wasn't the only one. At least a third of the mature women were - tending offspring, yes; he was a diplomat, if he simply thought of it as yet another alien custom he'd be just fine….
Are humans supposed to be nursed at that age? Children in the crèche weren't.
It wasn't just tiny infants, after all; the children were of a host of ages, some even a little older than the little Gensai girls. He couldn't help but stare. Of course, exobiology had taught him humans were nursing mammals, but he didn't think he'd ever seen it….
Padme never had the chance.
It hurt. It hurt so very much. He had to look away.
At scars.
"Space," the word fell from his lips unbidden, into one of those odd pauses that seemed to strike any group of gossiping sentients. "What in the worlds happened to you?"
Silence.
Kenshin glanced away; then, deliberately, looked straight at him and shrugged. "One tends to attract accidents."
Slowly, chatter picked back up again. Wary. And a shade too cheerful. Especially when one of the more matronly ladies brought over a basket of steaming sponges to clean his wounds, and boiled poultices to bandage over the worst burns.
They knew. They knew what was needed. Without even asking.
A very bad sign.
Obi-Wan set his jaw, and tried to draw some of the ladies' attitude of unconcern about himself. With little success, he knew. Better than anyone else in this shelter, however politely they were deliberately not looking, he knew blasted well those scars weren't accidents.
That knot, in the right shoulder - something thin, and impaling. Slice across the upper back… blade. Metal or vibro, not sure, it's buried under all those - space, are those claw marks?
Metal claws. He'd seen them made by too many war droids to mistake those wounds.
Someone tried very hard to kill this young man. Several someones.
Yet he was still alive. And if Kaoru were to be believed, Kenshin felt incredibly guilty about that fact. Even, at times, suicidally guilty.
Is that how you lost your Master?
"Ladies, ladies!" A knot of giggles in the back of the shelter unraveled around a tall, sweaty rooster-head of dark hair. "I'm taken, honest. Well, kind of. Um, maybe it's more of a see you for tea kind of thing, but…." Still holding out empty hands, Sanosuke fixed on the Jedi like a drowning man grabbing a plank. "Gods, you're still alive. Maybe Jou-chan won't kill me after all."
"Surely, she wouldn't," Obi-Wan objected.
"Are you kidding? She'd be crying and yelling and hitting me over the head, and when she got done with that, she'd make you a memorial meal. And she'd expect me to eat it." Sano shuddered. "I'm too young to die."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.
"Eh... heh… don't tell her I said that, right? She's kind of - well, you know, girls and kitchens are supposed to go together…."
Sniggers rose from the nude crowd.
Kenshin coughed slightly, taking mercy on the stammering smuggler. "There is," he said delicately, "a reason this one has cooked most of the meals."
Ah. That bad, hmm? Well, it wasn't as if he had any reason to brag. Heating up survival meals wasn't cooking. Though he usually managed not to burn water-
"You cook?" One of the bolder girls exclaimed, looking Kenshin up and down. "What kind of guy are you?"
"Oro…."
"A pretty guy," another sallied, to a burst of laughter. "Listen to that accent! Hey girls, call Yoshiwara! I think one of their tayuu are missing."
"Aww, don't call them, Toki!" A salacious grin flashed across the enclosure. "At least, not 'til tomorrow…."
"Oi!" Sano shoved wide violet eyes back toward Obi-Wan, and planted himself like a cranky stone pillar in front of them both. "Hands off. Guy's had a hard enough night already-"
Cackling.
"A bad enough night," Sano amended, "and ladies, you'd kill him. Come on, give us a break…."
"Indeed." Wizened, dark hair touched with iron gray, one of the more elderly ama rose to her feet, leaning on a carved driftwood cane. "Enough, girls. We've no need to start a war."
What?
Her light yukata rustled softly as she stumped over to them. Planted her cane on the sedge matting lining the floor, and peered past Sano to study violet eyes. "Speak, young man."
Violet blinked, wide and innocent. "What is it you wish this one to say, Honored Grandmother?"
"That's enough." She turned back toward the rest. "Shimabara, not Yoshiwara, you young fools. Call a local teahouse to take him back, there will be a war." Rolling her eyes, she sat down, ostentatiously warming her hands over the flames.
And not coincidentally, providing us with a chaperone, Obi-Wan thought, relieved. But I don't understand. Kenshin's a swordsman. How can these people think he belongs in the - the entertainment district? Just because he's-
Small. And pretty. And exotic. And spoke the local lingo like he'd been born to it, by the way Serifu's owner had reacted.
And how do I know he wasn't? the Jedi reminded himself. Those who can use the Force appear anywhere. That geisha, Koubai - the one Kenshin swears is kunoichi. It could have been mere chance a samurai found him before a ninja did. "How much danger are we in?" he murmured.
"Depends on how fast the guys who brought you in get drunk," Sano muttered back. "Long as the Empire gets enough harvest of seaweed and pearls, they don't stick their noses in too far, and that's just how the ama like it. But village guys? They spend their lives doing a little farming and a lot of gossip, and when Saigo's guys can liven that up with a bit of spending cash and a pile of stories of messing with the Empire..."
Obi-Wan blinked. Let that sink in. Reached - fruitlessly - to try and sense the rest of the village. Damn. "Saigo's here, then."
"A few hundred feet that way." Sano's grin had a hard edge. "Worse luck for us, the party hasn't been going long enough for him to get plastered."
"That would take hours," Kenshin said faintly. His shivers had finally stopped, but there was a slump to his shoulders Obi-Wan didn't like at all. "He has a very great tolerance for sake."
And just how do you know that? Obi-Wan set that question aside, to join the host of others he planned to shake out of the youngster. Later. "Party?"
"Don't know, didn't ask," Sano said frankly. "Knowing the local troublemakers, though - something blew up." He grimaced. "Just hope Katsu wasn't in the middle of it."
We'll ask Kaoru, then, the Jedi decided. The Empire will clamp a lid on it as always, but in a society like this, the gossip should be near as good as a news-flimsy. "Honored Grandmother." Obi-Wan inclined his head, drawing on all he'd seen of samurai interactions with those they respected. Clothing's part of status here, I need something else to give the right impression - ah. The fan. Kenshin hadn't let either out of his reach, any more than he'd let his lightsaber stray from his side. Obi-Wan scooped one up with as much grace as he could muster. "We are grateful for your aid in an - awkward situation."
The old woman snorted softly; glancing near, but not at, his bandaged wounds.
How do I - yes. A gentle snap of his wrist unfolded the fan, unlit; the perfect picture of genteel unconcern. "It would be ungracious of us to impose further." Such as by hospitalizing your idiot menfolk if they try to come after us again.
"It would," she agreed bluntly. "I heard a net float went missing." The slit of her eyes said that was a very grave matter, indeed.
"A stolen float cannot lead samurai back to those who should not be involved," Obi-Wan improvised, weighing Kenshin's calculated innocence and Sano's bland look anywhere else. This is going to be a very interesting story, when I hear it. "I suspect one who... purchased it in advance... might clear the debt before the night ended."
"Hmm." She thumped her stick on packed ground. "The north path out shouldn't have anyone watching it besides my sister's grandson. Tell him Great-Aunt says you're going home." A wrinkled brow rose. "You are going home?"
"With your blessing, I very much hope so," Obi-Wan smiled.
"Flatterer." She nodded toward their steamed clothes, and made a shooing motion with her free hand. "We're ama. Let samurai deal with samurai."
Take your trouble and be off with you, Obi-Wan translated, bowing politely. The younger men followed his lead; though if that jump of Sano's was anything to go by, Kenshin had delivered a swift and subtle kick to a certain ankle. So she thinks we're trouble, does she? She may well be right.
And it doesn't matter what she thinks, as long as we're going.
"Hold onto it," Kenshin said as they scrambled through the night down the north path, waving off Obi-Wan's attempt to give the fan back. "One did not recognize the ki of your captor, Kenobi-san, but he was strong. One would prefer neither of us be unarmed."
"You're the one who knows the fans," the Jedi pointed out.
"One would prefer not to leave you with only a weapon that might bring him down on our heads, that I would."
"Say what?" Sano jumped in. "You mean - your lightsaber-"
"The blade is the soul of the samurai. The crystal is the heart of the blade. The mind forms the crystal, so all join in harmony." Kenshin shrugged. "Or as Shishou once said, the electromagnetic resonance of an active lightsaber with the ki of its user is - a bit visible, to those who know what to look for. One does not know if our enemy knows what to look for, and one would very much prefer not to find out."
"The mind forms the crystal?" Obi-Wan asked, surprised.
"Huh. Even I know that." Sano rolled his eyes. "You find one of the right hot springs, sit down, and meditate. Do it right, you squeeze a gem right out of the water."
"It is one of the tests of mastery," Kenshin said plainly. "We should speak with Kaoru-dono about arranging a visit to a spring, so she can teach Yahiko to form a student's crystal..."
"What is it?"
Kenshin tilted his head, listening. "He will not be in range yet. But one suggests that we hurry."
Indeed.
---------------
Translations and info:
Ama - "sea person", diver; usually female.
Che' - "damn".
Maa, maa - Easy there; relax.
Mou - "oh, darn!"
