DISCLAIMER: All characters, places and situations in this piece of fiction would not be in existence without the genius of Watsuki Nobuhiro. There is no money being made from this piece of imagination
SPOILERS: Major spoilers for the 'Remembrance Arc' – Volume's 19-21.
SYNOPSIS: In the turbulence of the Bakumatsu, a young girl seeks to destroy Choshu's most dangerous assassin.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: The events in this story, and the characters, (particularly Kenshin) are based on the information given in the manga only, not the OVA's or anime. Please R&R.
Thank you again to "The Wandering Pen" You rule for helping me figure out this chapter!
For all of you who have read this chapter before, I'm just letting you know that there has been a change in events in this part of the story. Originally I had centred Katsura and Shakku's interaction around the incident at Musaya, a shop where a patriot Furudaka was arrested. After doing the research properly, I found out that this could not be the case, because this event occurred almost at the same time as the Ikeda-ya incident, so I had to change Katsura and Shakku's interaction to focus on the situation in Choshu and their bid to smuggle noblemen who supported their cause out of Kyoto. I think it's turned out better because it gave me an opportunity to introduce more historical context into the story, such as the Bombardment of Shimonoseki by Western Allied forces.
The Assassin
Chapter 1: Fallen
Have I fallen so far and is the hour so late
that nothing remains but the cry of my hate?
Jean Valjean; Les Miserables
Genji 1 (1864), Spring
Kyoto
Cold indifference. Since Okichi had spoken those words to Tomoe nothing much had changed. Only that Kiyosato Akira had reached his hand out to her and she had offered him cold death.
We regret to inform you of the death of Kiyosato Akira – Samurai Retainer – he died with honour protecting his Lord.
Death and darkness did not belong to Kiyosato Akira, with his friendly face and sincere smile. He deserved a woman whose heart was filled with laughter and smiles. Not her stiff countenance, which had made him believe he was not enough for her. She remembered the assassin's head rotting back in Edo on atop the high walls surrounding Edo Castle. It had been a great, ruddy, grey thing with meaty jowls and rough, almost animal-like features contorted in anger. It made him look as though he had met his death by charging at his target with the finesse of an enraged water buffalo. It was these men who thrived in shadows who deserved her presence, not those unwillingly surrounded by it, not those like Akira.
Her gift was darkness and sorrow, and she swore that whoever took Akira-sama's life would receive it.
Then she saw him.
Her conspirators had told her to harden her heart, to be sure of her mission. They had told her he would be young, and not to be fooled because behind that young face was a brutal, cold murderer.
They had told her.
But still...
Tomoe didn't know how long she had been standing there, contemplating him. She had expected him to be taller with a brusque and arrogant manner, a man who cared for nothing more than his own glory and conquest. He wasn't supposed to save her from drunkards in pubs or protect her from the many atrocities of the Kyoto night...
He wasn't supposed to have the face of a child.
How was it... she wondered, ...that even in the midst of all those chains, he had not once looked like a prisoner?
Slowly, she reached for her tantou. She had been surprised to see it simply sitting there within her reach next to her futon. Tatsumi had told her that a man such as Battosai would know if she had a weapon and he would most likely disarm her.
'...But if he is foolish enough to let his guard down while you are near,' Tatsumi's voice echoed in her mind, 'then you are welcome to take advantage of the opportunity...'
Her hand tightened around her weapon.
Strange, that a hitokiri so renowned for his prowess and skill could be so easily trusting of someone he had just met, even though she was only a woman. She stepped closer, careful to be silent lest she wake him, her hand still gripping the tantou so that her knuckles were white. He had done himself a disservice leaving her in his room with a knife. She could kill him in his sleep, stab him right through the heart and watch his eyes open in shock as life slipped away from them.
I am dangerous, she insisted to herself, desperately ignoring that the blade she held was still sheathed.
He's a murderer. She reminded herself. He killed Kiyosato. He's killed hundreds of men.
Tomoe touched her face, remembering the feeling of warm blood as it rained on her. The memory sparking a vision of the cool rage in his eyes, the sure deadliness of his movements, his hand pushing against the hilt of a rowdy soldier's katana to prevent its unsheathing.
She blinked.
No.
Her hands shook and although part of her mind screamed for her to unsheathe the blade, she knew she couldn't. This was the moment for which she had abandoned all she held dear. She had nothing left... so
Why?
Coward...
She turned the knife on herself idly wondering, what this young boy would think of the woman he saved, who killed herself in his room as he slept. Would he be horrified? After all he did not know her. He did not even know her name and he had no reason to weep for her death. She would just be another body, like so many others he had killed, like the black samurai, whose body was left so coldly on the ground. Like Kiyosato. The image of his body sprawled across the ground flashed through her mind. How he died she did not even know.
We regret to inform you of the death of Kiyosato Akira – Samurai Retainer – he died with honour protecting his Lord.
Those few lines had played in her head over and over again since the day his older brother had come to her door with the letter. The life she had envisioned shattered, her anguish now echoing hollowly in her heart.
The tip of the knife hovered just beneath her jaw and she wondered when she had unsheathed it. Both her hands held it in place. It seemed ironic that her hands would be more willing to deliver swift death to herself than to Kiyosato's killer. As though her hands knew the truth that her heart could not accept. She was responsible, she did not stop him. All it would take was one quick move and her shame would be over... and yet...
Defeated, she sheathed the knife and placed it on top of the folded futon. It almost dropped because she didn't want to look at her hands. She did not want to believe that they were shaking, furious at her impotence.
She could not kill herself. She could not kill him.
The room had suddenly become too hot and far too small and Tomoe felt desperate for space and air. As quietly as she could she slid the shoji open, turning back once to look at him.
Later, she thought. It will become easier.
She knew she was lying to herself, but the thought gave her a cold comfort. She slid the shoji closed as quietly as she could. Tomoe was shivering so badly that she did not know how she managed to escape the room so silently.
Forgive me my weakness Kiyosato Akira–sama.
'In order to destroy this era we must call upon the madness that gives us strength'
Those words, spoken seven years ago by Yoshida-sensei, had made no sense to Katsura's sharp young mind as he sat in the sensei's Hagi prison. He remembered the many discussions with his teacher, his incisive questions, and quick wit, allowing him to quickly distinguish himself from the many students who had come from all over Japan to hear Yoshida-sensei speak. But when his teacher spoke of the madness which gave strength, it seemed as though only Takasugi completely understood Yoshida-sensei's intent.
And oh how Katsura had tried. Once, he had even beseeched his father to allow him to talk to some of his mad patients, so that he may better understand his teacher's lessons. The exercise seemed futile, for most were unintelligible when manic and frail and pathetic when lucid.
Katsura had never seen strength in madness. Until now.
Taking a long sip from his sake bowl, he allowed himself a soft chuckle as a realization came to him.
That is why Yoshida-sensei's lessons are so clear now. He thought. I am going mad.
Turning his eyes back to Takasugi's letter he blinked to focus his vision. He did not need to read it to know what it said. Ever since the Bombardment of Shimonoseki, where Choshu had witnessed the foreigners obliterate their defences as punishment for their attack on foreign merchant ships, the emperor and the shogun had come to an uneasy truce. United by the main goal to obliterate the rebels advocating 'joi', they had sent in troops of Mimawari-gumi to purge the city.
Choshu, of course, made it a point to rescue the exiled princes who supported their cause, in the hopes that the emperor would one day welcome them back into the imperial court and unite with Choshu against the shogun. Three weeks prior, a letter from Takasugi had confirmed their safety in Hagi, although he appeared sceptical that they would be able to ensure their survival, for as each day passed the likelihood that the princes could return to court to advocate Choshu's agenda were lessening. The letter Katsura now held related the news of two of the princes' deaths, and the Kiheitai's restlessness and their desire to march on the capital to rid the emperor of the shogun's influence.
Ever since Choshu had lost its position with the imperial court and the Shinsengumi and Mimawarigumi were prowling the city for rebels. Not since Ii Naosuke's purge of Choshu patriots had a fear like this been known.
And now he had learned that Choshu's information was leaking, Battosai's existence had been revealed, and Satsuma, whose support he had hoped for, rallied for the side of the shogunate.
Yet, for all that had occurred, it was the revelation of Battosai's existence which stood out at the forefront of his mind. Though Choshu soldiers knew of his presence in the shadows, few knew his identity, leaving only those who stood in his inner circle to be suspected as traitor.
Unless Himura had unknowingly left a witness.
Katsura frowned.
No. Nothing escaped Himura.
He shook his head, as though the action would dispel all his suspicions, before resting it in the palm of his hands. He felt stretched out, wounded and exhausted, and the fighting had yet to reach its pinnacle.
'You look like you need this,' the voice was gruff and held some humour. Katsura peered over his fingers to see a sake jug and cup in front of him on the table. He blinked, so deep was he in his thoughts that he didn't realize where he was sitting. He took a quick look at the surroundings. He was in the eating hall at the Kohagi-ya. The hall was almost empty with only one table on the opposite side of the room occupied by three young soldiers fresh from Hagi, their forms obscured by the wooden partitions which separated each table. Katsura's eyes settled on the man who stood in front of him smiling wryly.
'Shakku-san.' His mouth twitched into a smile. 'Here I thought you would leave our cause for Satsuma.'
The comment drew an irritated scowl from Shakku. True, he had been raised in that prefecture, and he was a sword smith who had supplied them with weapons prior to joining with Choshu. It was perfectly understandable that their warriors would use his swords to fight the war. But now with Choshu bleeding from the wounds Satsuma had inflicted, Arai Shakku was coldly regarded by those who had survived. Katsura laughed humourlessly and gestured for the other man to sit. He did so cautiously.
'My apologies Shakku-san' he said picking up the jar of sake and pouring for both him and Shakku. 'It has not been a day of good news.'
Shakku nodded gravely.
'I heard of the raid in Hagi,' Shakku said. 'It is a good thing that Prince Sanjo escaped unharmed.'
'Indeed,' Katsura said swirling his saucer of sake and watching as the motion created a small vortex in the middle. Idly he envisioned the thoughts in his mind turn into that sucking vortex. 'But his voice is nothing without the support of the others.' A small smile crept onto his lips 'Especially considering how much he had riled the emperor with his strong opinions on 'joi'…'
Shakku let out a short laugh. It was no secret that Prince Sanjo had been the most vehement supporters of the emperor's decree to expel the foreigners. Shakku's expression sobered as he looked upon Katsura.
'There are five others to lend their support to him yet Katsura, all is not lost'
Katsura shook his head.
'I fear that road has already been closed to us' he replied sombrely. 'Their rescue from the wrath of the Bakufu has been a costly gratitude for their aide in gaining the emperor's favour, if even for a little while.' He paused, lifted his cup of sake to his lips before placing it back down 'What worries me now is Himura.'
'Himura?'
Katsura lifted his eyes to examine Shakku. The man's face was knit in worry and genuine surprise. Katsura's eyes then flitted down at the saucer of sake in Shakku's hands which, like his, was untasted.
'He was ambushed last night.'
Shakku followed his gaze and his frown deepened.
'You think me traitor?' His voice was cold.
'If I thought you were the traitor you would already be dead,' Katsura replied evenly, lifting his cup of sake to his mouth and taking a drink. He felt the satisfying burn of alcohol trickle down his throat, but it hadn't soothed his mind nearly enough. 'Do you have what I asked for?'
'Yes.' Shakku replied, taking a sip of his own drink. Shakku then smiled and reached behind him to put a long cloth-wrapped item on the table in front of them. Shakku uncovered it carefully, revealing a sword in a decorated black mahogany sheath. He was smiling. 'To date it is my finest work.'
Slowly he drew the sword from its sheath and revealed the bottom of its edge. Katsura pulled out the blade fully noting that the metal, although flexible, had a promising hard quality to it.
'It's light' he commented approvingly.
'To allow for finer control,' Shakku replied nodding, watching as Katsura swung the blade experimentally, drawing surreptitious stares from the young men in the opposite table. 'Surely something Himura would appreciate.'
'It's an exquisite sword. Well worth the price you demanded.' Katsura sheathed the sword and pushed it towards Shakku. 'You should give it to him.' Shakku raised an interested eyebrow and reluctantly pulled his hand away from the sword, and Katsura's lip twitched. 'I don't think he will be as taken with it as we are.'
Shakku frowned, insulted.
'Why not?'
'No reason concerning the sword,' Katsura said, taking another swig of his sake, he frowned at its coldness. 'He's besotted by some woman he rescued last night. No doubt her appeal will take precedence.'
'A woman?' Shakku echoed incredulously.
Katsura tilted his head towards the courtyard entrance and Shakku turned around to see a young woman ushering more soldiers into the room. Shakku let out a short disbelieving laugh.
'So,' Shakku paused turning back to Katsura, whose attention was back on his sake. 'Who is she?'
'She calls herself To-mo-e,' Katsura said, enunciating every syllable of her name while pouring another glass of sake.
'Tomoe?' Shakku echoed a little too loudly, drawing stares towards them. Shakku lowered his voice, but the young woman had looked their way, obviously curious. 'Tomoe who? Is that the best information your intelligence can get you?'
'Intelligence?'
'Surely you've had someone check her background before letting her in here, Katsura...'
Katsura blinked surprised at himself. No, he hadn't even thought of that. His head had been filled with worries about the situation in Choshu and then again this morning about the ambush that he hadn't even thought to examine the girl's background. Katsura groaned.
'I'll go find Katagai-san and tell him to look into the girl.' He heard, rather than saw, Shakku stand up.
'No need.' Katsura's eyes were now back at the courtyard entrance where Himura was standing watching the girl work, his expression a curious mix of innocence, perplexity, and shyness. It was such a strange thing to see him timid and unsure, especially since all he had been when Katsura had met him was confident to the point of arrogant. 'Katagai-san will be meeting me soon. He has some news regarding Satsuma's movements.'
Both men watched as Himura approached her, standing an appropriate distance from her. Always proper. The conversation was short - no longer than a few seconds, cut off by a young maid and a tea tray, but it seemed to leave Himura looking like he was about to explode in frustration. This was the second time Katsura had seen the woman's mere presence shake the near stoic boy, and to his surprise, he found that it did not amuse him nearly as much as it did earlier that morning.
'Arrange for the girl to serve tea in the chrysanthemum room in an hour.' He said turning to Shakku who was also watching the exchange, albeit with more amusement. Shakku turned back to him. 'Not a word to Himura.'
'Of course' Shakku agreed meeting Katsura's eyes briefly before picking up the blade and leaving.
Sweat trickled down I'izuka's brow. He had taken a great risk leaving the Kohagi-ya in broad daylight. He was lucky Katagai never asked too many questions as long as he told him the errand he ran was for Katsura. He paused in front the building and caught his breath. He hated this part of Gion district. The small house appeared to be squashed between two larger establishments, and could be no bigger than an alleyway. The roof hung dangerously low, as though threatening to cave in.
This must be the place
I'izuka entered the room. It was empty but for a low table bearing a lumpy and uneven mass and the large, thickly muscled old man who stood in the opposite corner, his body tense. I'izuka took in a deep breath and suppressed the urge to flee upon seeing him.
'I had almost thought you wouldn't come,' Tatsumi said, turning around to face him his expression dark.
'The woman you sent was successful'
'Oh?' There was surprise in his voice. 'I would've thought your assassin was on strict orders to kill all witnesses.'
'He is.'
'Yet she lives.'
I'izuka laughed.
'You were right. A beautiful woman could get under any man's skin.'
'Not deep enough.' His ominous tone made I'izuka pause.
'So it's true,' he said. 'One of your own was killed by Battosai.'
'Yes,' the older man said, vaguely turning towards the right. I'izuka followed the man's gaze. 'Your stories of his strength were clearly not exaggerations.'
I'izuka's eyes rested on a figure lying on the low table, the shape of the body becoming more apparent, the closer he looked. Cautiously, he approached the body, his eyes widening in shock as he saw the man's face. I'izuka cringed as he removed the black cloth covering the body, his eyes drawn instinctively to the wound. The weapon had cut cleanly through the clavicle and tore through the man's thickly muscled flesh, snapping every bone in his ribcage. He would've been dead before he hit the ground. I'izuka shivered as he once again considered the sheer power which belonged to the slight hitokiri.
'He would not have been an easy man to kill,' I'izuka said, hoping it brought some measure of comfort.
'He did his duty,' Tatsumi responded.
'Of course,' I'izuka agreed and watched as the older man left the room.
That is all one can ask from one's son.
Appendix
The Bombardment of Shimonoseki – This occurred on July 20, 1863 as retaliation for Choshu's attack on merchant sailing ships. The western alliance obliterated Choshu's defences and hundreds of Samurai died.
Prince Sanjo – was one of the eight princes who were exiled from the imperial court for supporting the cause of expelling the barbarians.