Realizing the determination of the Kiyosato to hold out to the last person's last breath, the daimyo of the Koshimizu clan made a bold decision to join forces with the Kiyosato against the other warlords.
The alliance proved to be a strong one. A marriage was carried out between the youngest daughter of the Koshimizu and the Kiyosato daimyo's nephew, and together the two clans turned the tide against their enemies. From facing mutual annihilation, the Kiyosato and Koshimizu samurai became a powerful force of aggression. The old daimyo of Kiyosato especially desired revenge for his wounded honor, desired revenge against the callousness of enemies who had seen weakness in his sorrow for his son.
Over the past two years, they were the ones who conquered. They slaughtered opposing armies and demolished towns.
Kenshin didn't feel anything - the terror and frenzy of battle, the tedium of travel, the rituals of bushido - it was as if he were watching the actions of his body from a separate place.
He didn't feel anything when he killed.
After each battle, if he had no other duties, he would watch the harvest of the battlefield. He watched the women - mothers, wives, daughters - silent women, collecting their dead, bearing their sorrows with hunched backs, slow and heavy steps. Mothers and daughters and wives of dead soldiers - some of them men Kenshin himself had killed.
Even in the winter, when there were no battles, women with black eyes and hungry, angry faces haunted his dreams.
.
With Kaoru helping with the weaving, grandfather and grandmother accumulated a surplus to sell. The monks had all the cloth they needed, and so Kaoru and the old man borrowed an ox-drawn cart to make the long journey to the nearest town.
"It may be that we will be attacked on the road," Genzai told her. "Thankfully I have my staff."
"Maybe I should learn, too," Kaoru suggested.
Kaoru pulled her long hair into a topknot and bound her breasts and donned loose, boyish clothes. She practiced her staff with the monks every day the week before they planned to leave.
"Of course, it will be no use against a sword," Genzai observed, "but perhaps we can scare off thieves."
The monks sent another foundling, a boy named Yahiko, to accompany them on the road. They would return with supplies for the sanctuary, if they returned at all.
.
They left in late summer.
Kaoru could feel the total warmth of each long day seeping into her skin. It felt right. Something about this journey felt right, like a part of her was awakening after a long sleep. Something like a familiar scent, a familiar scene, a forgotten horizon.
They had hardly enough food to feed the three of them, but Kaoru was full of energy nonetheless. She picked fights with Yahiko constantly. Sparring helped them develop their limited skills, and it passed the time. Grandfather would shout "Children!" after he'd had enough, and they would dust themselves off and sprint to catch up with the cart.
Yahiko was quiet when he wasn't shouting insults at her. Something had hurt him, hurt his heart, but he was a good boy, even if he was rude.
.
Kaoru hadn't imagined - no one had warned her - how desperate people could be.
The first night thieves tried to steal away with their ox and their cart full of cloth, it was Yahiko who heard them first, shouted in fury, and attacked them with his stick. As soon as the thieves saw Kaoru and Genzai leap to attention, staffs in hand, they bolted into the darkness.
Yahiko was breathing hard and shaking. Kaoru could only think of how hollow and hungry their eyes had looked.
They had few peaceful evenings after that.
At night, Kaoru and Yahiko and Genzai slept in shifts, guarding the cart. During the day, they watched the people they passed - farmers collecting the harvest and some travelers like themselves, mostly walking, weary, the long road. Sometimes samurai rode past in clattering armor, bristling with spear and sword.
.
Genzai gave some of their food to a woman carrying two sick children, some to a crippled old man.
They had nothing left but their cloth, their cart, their ox, and themselves by the time they reached the outer defensive wall of the town.
Two samurai met them at the gate. "The way is closed," the bigger one told them. "This castle is under siege."
Genzai waved vaguely at their cart. "We came to sell our cloth. Surely there is a market among the soldiers."
The samurai seemed bored and slightly annoyed. "We will pay you for any food you have to sell."
Genzai frowned.
Kaoru held her breath to listen. She had never been so close to a samurai and she was afraid. The man was large and strange in his grotesque, stylized armor, bearing strips of patterned fabric, the hilts of weapons she didn't understand. Kaoru was also hungry, and she knew that Yahiko must be ravenous. She worried what would happen if they were turned away. They had no food.
Yet something distracted her.
The man standing off to the side - the second samurai. He wore simpler armor, fewer weapons, and no helmet. With his reddish hair and fine features, he looked very young, almost delicate compared to the man who was gruffly denying Genzai's plea.
He seemed... so... familiar.
No one had seemed familiar to Kaoru for as long as she could remember.
She stared.
.
Kenshin felt the weight of the youth's eyes on him and shifted slightly away.
Why was he staring? Had Kenshin killed someone close to him?
His movement drew Yoshi's attention. Yoshi glanced at Kenshin and then looked back at the family.
"What's your boy gaping at?" Yoshi demanded of the merchant.
"Ah, I'm afraid my grandson is a bit simple..."
"You know me."
Kenshin stared at the boy - woman? She had spoken with quiet certainty.
Did he know her? Was she one of those women who had collected bones from the battlefield? How could he have forgotten the shape of her body, her face..? Why confront him here, now, in disguise?
The merchant cleared his throat and bowed deeply. "I must apologize. This is our first visit to these parts. As I said, my grandson is simple. He has been so from birth. Please forgive us."
The woman-boy blinked, hesitant, before bowing low alongside the old man and the younger boy.
Kenshin's heart pounded. He didn't recognize them, but perhaps he should have. He knew they were lying, but perhaps he wanted to allow them their lie.
Her voice, her clear eyes - she had seemed so calm, so sure, and almost... proud, accusing him of knowing her.
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