Chapter 13

When the levee breaks

At first, he HMS Jubilant provided Kenji with endless adventures. He'd never boarded a vessel this size, let alone a steam ship. Although cargo occupied most of the hull, two small decks accommodated passengers. Iribe Yumiko's money had allowed them to secure one of the most luxurious cabins. The young man explored every accessible area, and when doors were locked, he quickly befriended members of the crew who then showed him around areas that were off limits. The swinging hammocks of the sailor quarters had impressed him the most. What a strange life these people must lead. By the end of the first week, every member of staff, from the petty officers to the captain knew him by name. He'd also managed to hit it off with an American translator on his way to Britain. The man, in his early fifties, took a liking to the boy and set about to teach him English.

By contrast, Sanosuke kept mostly to himself, hanging out on the upper deck when weather permitted, only rarely interacting with the other passengers. His face was a permanent sullen mask. The children of a couple bound for Hong Kong had been fascinated by the tall man and, against all expectations, he'd spent many hours entertaining them. The absence of a common language didn't seem to bother them. They had disembarked early in the journey and so Sanosuke had settled in his silence anew.

A month in, many passengers having come and gone, the many parts of the ship having been explored, Kenji found himself bored. His progress with the English lessons were astounding but aside from these daily conversations with Isaac, he had little distractions. He'd been advised that although his sword would be tolerated on board (thanks to an unexpected special permission obtained by Fujita Goro), it wasn't to be displayed for the other passengers to see. Kenji found himself up at the crack of dawn to get in a hour (if lucky and if the ship didn't rock too much) of practice on the upper deck.

And so, with nothing better to do, Kenji thought. He tried not to, but what else was he supposed to do? He tried to remember everything he could about his father. It wasn't much and most of it was negative. With this fuel, he stoked the fires of his anger and hatred to the point where his body shook with rage. A the height of those moment, he would sit in their cabin, glaring at the crate containing the sakabato. He couldn't find a good reason why he had taken the sword with him; he just had. On other days, Kenji would reflect upon the words of his friends and family. It always boiled down to two things: sacrifice and gratitude. His father had sacrificed so much. His father had saved so and so. Kenji had to show gratitude for the world he lived in, etc, etc. They all had sacrificed so much. He had enough of this. How could he be grateful when he didn't even know what to be grateful for? He would have been grateful for a normal family, a normal life. Once engaged in this line of thinking, Kenji relentlessly sought Sanosuke to pester him with question the older man avoided.

They'd left Calcutta a few days before and were making their slow voyage towards Bombay. The novelty of his fascinating, if short, exploration of the Indian city having worn out, Kenji had settled in his brooding again. The heat didn't allow for extended periods in the belly of the ship so the young man, in a foul state of mind, made a beeline line for Sanosuke who hung out in a quieter corner of the ship. He found him leaning forward on the ship's starboard railing. He'd let his patchy beard grow and his unruly hair was tied in a botched top knot. Taking advantage of the protection of the secluded area, he'd taken off his gi and wore only his trousers. Despite this measure, Kenji noticed that Sanosuke's body gleamed with sweat.

The young man leaned on the railing next to his travel companion. The latter barely gave him a sideway glance before grunting in acknowledgement. They remained thus a while. Thoughts churned in Kenji's mind as he tried to find the best overture for a conversation he knew wouldn't happen but would at least provide a distraction. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't try me, kozo. This heat is not good for my mood," said Sanosuke.

Kenji closed his mouth. Well that would go swimmingly, he thought. He clenched his jaw.

"Don't you have a meeting with that Yankee?"

Kenji shook his head and wiped his face with his sleeve.

"The heat is getting to him. We'll meet in the evening."

Kenji stared at the ocean, undeterred.

"Sanosuke. I need to know."

The man sighed and wiped the sweat pearling on his face.

"Not now, Kenji."

The young man turned to face Sanosuke.

"If not now, then when? It's not like we have anything else to do. Nobody tells me anything." Even to himself, he sounded like a petulant child. Yet he couldn't help it. The anger bubbled. "All I know I've found through this stupid treasure hunt."

Sanosuke's head pounded. He'd been doing his fair share of rumination from the outset of the journey.

"Ignorance is bliss. Just be grateful" Trite words, but the best he could muster at the moment.

Kenji fumed.

"Screw that bullshit! I have a right to know. You all tell me to be grateful all the time. What is there to be grateful for?"

Kenji's unusual use of profanity smarted Sanosuke to attention. Slowly, he stretched back up and faced the young man who stood akimbo, fists clenched. His eyes seemed darker. His mouth was but a thin straight line. Kenji gulped.

"You want to know what to be grateful for?"

His voice was low, but he heard it clearly as a whisper in his ear. It sent shivers down his spine. He resisted the urge to take a step back and took one forward instead, his eyes fixed on Sanosuke's.

"Yes," he replied, defiantly.

Sanosuke towered over him.

"How about being grateful for not having to work as a pickpocket for a band of yakuza before the age of ten like Yahiko did?"

Kenji's eyes widened. The man took a step forward. He backed away.

"How about being grateful for not being destitute after your entire family died or disappeared? For not having to make opium for a demented doctor who holds your life in his hands like Megumi had to?"

Kenji stared, mouth agape. Was this true? He didn't have time to ponder for long; Sanosuke wasn't done.

"Is that enough to be grateful for?" His words came in a guttural growl very unlike the usual lighthearted Sanosuke. Kenji's stomach tightened.

"I'm sorry," he managed.

Sanosuke scoffed. Sweat rolled down his face. He didn't seem to notice.

"Sorry for what? For prying, prying and prying? Who do you think you are that you believe the world owes you the entire truth on everything and everyone?"

Sanosuke took a step closer. Kenji backed into a skylight. He leaned away as far as possible.

"Do you think you're the only one who's suffered? Has it never crossed your mind that we don't want to tell you about those things because they hurt too much?"

Kenji averted his gaze. A few people had gathered nearby and watched the commotion with a curious concern.

"I had to watch…" Sanosuke's voice strangled. He punched the skylight right next to Kenji's head. The young man's head snapped back to attention. The older man's brow was knitted in a deep frown and his mouth twisted in a painful grimace.

"I had to watch my older brother's beheading. Is this the kind of information that you want?"

Those words took the last of Sanosuke's fury out. He turned around, grabbed his gi from the deck and walked away. Kenji took a deep breath and slid down against the skylight. His entire body trembled. The world around him came in and out of focus. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his head atop.

He'd cracked open the lid of the tamatebako and had gotten his just deserve.

NOTE

The tamatebako is an element of the Japanese folktale of Urashima Taro. Although different in terms of consequences, it is often compared to Pandora's box.