Chapter 16
Lies and other forms of love
They sat in the front room. Ai in a fauteuil, Kenji alone on a loveseat. Sanosuke, ensconced in a leather fauteuil had surrendered to sleep again. Fersen had retired, pclaiming he had business to attend early in the morning. The gaslight and the fireplace lit the late evening like Kenji had never experienced before. Even on the ship, the crew hadn't been this generous with light. How many more things could one fit in a day with the aid of such technology? His brain was overwhelmed and he felt slightly queasy. He focused on the burning fire. Ai remained remained silent, lost in thoughts, or maybe waiting for Kenji to break the silence. From time to time, he would chance a glance her way. He felt it rude to stare, despite the slim chance of her noticing. Or so he thought.
"Kenji?" said the woman in a soft voice.
He looked back at the flames.
"Yes?"
"Would you like to take a very good look at my face?"
He tensed. She didn't laugh.
"I can feel your eyes on me."
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head.
"Please don't be. This is very strange for me as well. Please, look. Do I resemble him?"
He turned to her and observed her features. Her nose, the shape of her eyes, the cheekbones… They had something of Kenshin. The mouth was definitely different.
"There is a resemblance, but the western hairdo makes it hard to tell for sure."
With deft fingers, she pulled a few pins from her hair. It fell around her, a cascade of copper. With a certain hand, she smoothed it down and bunched it at the base of the neck, tying with a ribbon. Suddenly, despite her western attire, she looked very Japanese.
She smiled.
"How about now?"
He observed her. Something was slightly off.
"Don't smile," he said.
She complied.
Better, but still different.
"Could you cover your mouth?"
She did. Kenji reeled. She looked like him. In fact, she was simply a more delicate version of him. He felt a pang in his stomach. He looked away.
"Are you alright."
He took a deep breath. He felt dizzy. She got up and crossed over to sit next to him. She took his hand in hers for the second time this evening.
"Please forgive me. I'm afraid I'm being rather forward. I must confess I have been awaiting your arrival with anxiety. I've been wracking my brain to find a way to get you out of your shell. I did not stop for a moment to consider your feelings. Please forgive me."
He looked up. She smiled at him wistfully. Her lips made a world of difference, making her Ai again.
"I'm not sure I even know how I feel."
She nodded.
"Of course. Ours are strange circumstances. I think your friend Sagara-san here has the right idea. Why not go to sleep? Surely things will be clearer in the morning."
Without waiting for his answer, she rang a small bell which, until then, had rested on a small gueridon.
A manservant appeared. Ai made a request in Dutch.
"Jan will lead you to your room. I will arrange for your friend to be taken to his room when he wakes."
She squeezed his hand.
"Good night, brother."
"Good night," he replied, unable to muster the word sister.
The bed creaked as Kenji shifted for the nth time. As soon as he'd lied down, he had found himself completely awake, his mind racing with a million things he would have liked to ask Ai. Where was her mother, Yumiko? What was this business of going to the country? How long had she been blind? Why did they have such a big house? Why had they moved to England?
He pulled the covers off in frustration. This bed simply wouldn't do. It was so soft it made his back hurt. He sat up, grabbed a warm blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders like a cape. He found his sword atop his trunk and took it. Looking around in the darkness, he found an appropriate wall and sat against it. He leaned the sword against his chest and arranged the blanket. The floor was much harder than tatami but it would have to do. He soon fell in a deep sleep.
xxxx
Morning found him lying on his side, the blanket barely covering him and his hand wrapped loosely around the scabbard of his sword. A perfectly aligned ray of sunshine stabbed him in the eyes. He grunted and pulled in his arm to prop himself up. His arm flopped next to him. He squinted in the sun, trying to take a look. His arm was still there, his hand still weakly holding on to the sword. He pulled harder. A million needles suddenly attacked his limb. He winced audibly. He was awake now, alright. He tried to sit up again but the blanket had tangled itself around his legs. He fell face first, only catching himself at the last minute with his functioning arm. The whole time he kept letting out small cries of pain as the blood rushed back to his extremity.
"Oh boy. What do we have here?"
The young man's head snapped up. Sanosuke leaned nonchalantly in the doorframe, a fat grin on his face. Caught between embarrassment and anger, Kenji averted his gaze. He got to his feet and started tidying up. He clenched and unclenched his fist, its strength trickling back.
"It's not for everyone."
"What?"asked Kenji, distractedly as he slipped on his hakama.
"Sleeping like that.
Kenji felt the heat across his face. Instead of teasing the boy, Sanosuke grew more somber.
"Kenshin was pretty good at it. Of course it's not something you'd want to be able to brag about. Not in this day an age, anyway"
Kenji stared at him.
"Why is that?"
"Because it means you're not really sleeping. You stay alert, ready to jump up fully awake at the first sign of trouble."
He'd never really thought about this. He'd always assume it had been another of his father's strange habits. He couldn't even remember what had pushed him to sleep that way the previous night.
"Can you sleep like that?" he asked his companion.
Sanosuke shrugged.
"I used to, when I wasn't completely drunk, that is."
"Why?"
"Why, what? Why I got drunk? Well…"
Kenji shook his head.
"Why did you need to sleep like that? You were a child during the bakumatsu, surely there were no direct threats on your life, even as a member of the Sekihoutai. So this must be from later in your life, no?"
Sanosuke stared at him for a few seconds. He felt the the box where he'd stored all the painful memories of his past shift in his mind. He hesitated a moment, about to lift the lid then wizened up.
"Is this a roundabout way to get information about your father?"
Kenji gave a fox's smile.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Sanosuke squinted at the young man then broke into wholehearted laughter.
"Come. I've been awake since dawn. This house is amazing. Plus something smells delicious."
Breakfast felt like nothing short of a feast. Kenji especially enjoyed the fish and eggs, while Sanosuke just couldn't get enough of the toast and jelly. This meal turned out to be the first stop on a four days journey that would take the pair and their host on an extensive London adventure. Fersen took them to the British Museum where Kenji spent over six hours, reading every explanation, contemplating every exhibit. They visited the tower of London, where Sanosuke marvelled at the torture chambers and Kenji studied the different swords on display. They dined at Benekey's, Pagani's and the Cafe Royal, Kenji and Sanosuke trading their Japanese clothes for the latest in English fashion. Piccadilly, Oxford street, Belgrave square, St Paul's, Westminster Abbey, the Crystal Palace… The names came and went, each with their fascinating oddity. For the young boy, it felt both exhilarating and dizzying. All this ritzy novelty was exciting, but he also longed for the quiet of Kyoto's mountains, and for the green scent of the Japanese forest. He found the swarming crowds oppressing and the noise aggravating to the point where he often ended the day with a headache. Sanosuke, on the other hand, appeared to be having the time of his life, enjoying everything with relish and abandon. He'd even let himself be convinced to allow Fersen's barber to cut his hair in the London fashion and now styled it with pomade, smoothly parting it on the side. He'd also had his beard trimmed, leaving only an elegant mustache and neatly clipped muttonchops. It made him look completely ridiculous in his Japanese clothes, but even Kenji had to admit he looked rather stylish in his frock coat, shirt and trousers. As for himself, the young man had resisted any attempt at getting him to change his hairstyle. As for sartorial concerns, he tolerated the foreign clothes out of necessity, but found them stuffy and itchy. He stuck to his Japanese garments most of the time.
They'd been in London for a week when the skies finally cleared up and the early May sun shone in a bright blue sky. Fersen had decided to take Sanosuke to a proper pub to introduce him to the pleasures of beer. The two of them had hit it off so completely that even Ai had been surprised: she'd never seen her husband, usually a shy man, forge a friendship so quickly. Then again, Fersen had grown up in Japan and seemed to find it difficult to fit in with his Dutch peers, let alone the English ones. As for Kenji, he was glad to see Sanosuke enjoy himself so much; the gloom of their time on the ship seemed to have been lifted.
Having been left behind, Ai and Kenji had headed out to Hyde park to enjoy one of the capital's rare clear days. The couple had walked down the several shaded paths in quiet contemplation before heading for the Serpentine. There a maid would eventually meet up with them with a basket and serve them a light collation.
Kenji's geta crunched the gravel of the path with each step, a sharp contrast to the soft swishing of Ai's silk dress. She had hooked her arm with his and he could feel her warmth through the fabric of his hakamashita. Despite all the time they'd spent together in the last few days, she still felt like a stranger. He wanted to ask her so many things, yet as soon as they found themselves alone, his mind turned blank. Maybe she'd sensed this and this was the reason she'd made sure they were never alone. Until now.
They came to a bench in the shade of an ancient elm tree and sat down. Their silence was filled with the sound of birds and other visitors. Children waded in the water under the supervision of matronly nannies. In the distance, swans glided in and out of the arches of the Serpentine bridge.
"Have you enjoyed London so far?" asked Ai.
"Very much. Especially the British Museum," replied Kenji.
"I'm glad. Fersen thought we might both need a bit of busy time after my blunder of the first night." She smiled. "I'm afraid I'm rather blunt, and you're rather reserved."
"I'm sorry." He looked down at his hand.
She shook her head
"No need to be. But I would rather we be friend than strangers. And if you may allow it, I wish we could be siblings in the real sense, not just by the caprices of faith. Is my request reasonable?"
He looked at her. She smiled softly but her eyes betrayed apprehension. Behind all her chatter and good humour hid a strong desire to bridge the gap between them. Was it possible that, in her own way, she'd been feeling as lost as him? He took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts.
"The last year has been the most trying of my entire life. My mother and my father passed away, I discovered my father had left me a considerable sum of money (of which I will need to talk to you about later,) and I found out that I had a…" The word stuck in his throat but he pushed on. "That I had a sister. I would like very much to be friends with you, and more if we can. But I don't know where to start."
He exhaled, the tension leaving his body.
"It is maybe unfair that I know so much about you and you know very little about me. My…" She shook her head and corrected herself. "Our father wrote to my mother and me. He told us you. But maybe I should start with the beginning."
Ai told Kenji about her childhood in Dejima and how her twin had passed away in infancy.
"Sometimes I wake up and I forget Hikaru's gone. Even after all those year, I can still feel a connection. I haven't seen for over 20 years , yet I can still see his face in my mind as clear as the last time I saw him."
"You miss him," said Kenji, a statement rather than a question.
She turned to face him.
"Very much. Isn't it strange? I've never been bothered by my blindness. I guess I just spent so much more time with it than without. But having you here, I would give all I own to see your face. To see if you look like him, or like me."
Her wistful tone broke Kenji's heart.
"I have only seen picture of Hikaru as a child. My… Our father had a few. And of course he looked very much like you. Assuming the ressemblance hadn't faded with age, then I can tell you that he and I would probably look very much alike. There is no denying that you and I share the same father."
Ai beamed, and for the first time, Kenji didn't feel the usual resentment towards his own features for being so much like his father's.
"This is rather forward, but could I touch your face?"
Kenji agreed.
Ai took off her gloves and folded them neatly in her lap. Then, she gingerly rose her hands. The young man gently took her wrists to guide her to his face. With her fingertips, she explore his brow, following down his temples to his cheek bones. She went back and forth a few times between her own face and his.
"Your nose is different," she observed.
"I have my mother's. Our mouths are different, too. I have our father's, but you don't."
She nodded.
"Yes. Thank you for allowing me to do this."
She rested her hands back down. Her gloves remained on her lap.
"When I started asking questions, my mother told me that my dad had died during the Bakumatsu. As far as I knew, this was the truth; it was the version of the story everyone knew. But then, we went to Tokyo before going to the Netherland and I met him."
"You met him?!"
"Yes. He came to our Tokyo lodging to see my mother. I believe she had been to your house."
Kenji suddenly remembered a beautiful woman sitting on their engawa.
"I gave her candy."
Ai smiled.
"She told me you gave her the wrapping, too." She laughed.
He couldn't recall."
"Regardless, they both told me that he had been a friend of my father but I could tell something was off. They were both crying, although they tried really hard to hide it. And when I touched his face, I suddenly realised that he was in fact my father. He'd been alive all along."
"Were you angry?" asked Kenji, enthralled.
She tilted her head.
"I was at first, but not at him. I was furious with my mother. Why had she taken us away from him? Why had she lied? It just didn't make any sense."
Kenji stared at the pond. The sun glinted atop the ripples. He would have been so furious with Kenshin. He still was. He couldn't understand Ai's reaction.
"Didn't you resent him for abandoning you?"
She shook her head.
"No. But wait, you'll understand why. I didn't call out their lies and pretended not to know anything until we got on the ship. I bided my time until we were at sea and my mother couldn't go anywhere. I confronted her. I expected her to deny everything, to yell at me or even send me to my room like a bad child, but she didn't. She broke down in tears and apologized."
Kenji twisted his hands. He would have given anything for an apology from his father. Or even just for him to admit his fault in causing him so much pain.
"Turns out my mother and our father met during the Bakumatsu. My mother was a geisha – I know, I was surprised, too – and your father was employed by the Ishin. They were very close until our father suddenly disappeared. The conflict intensified and she assumed he had died. She never really believed and and would have kept looking had Shimabara not burnt down. On top of all that, she discovered she was pregnant. A friend helped her find a position in Fersen's father's household on Dejima. Our father didn't know I existed, not until we moved away. He tried to find my mother when things quieted down, but they told him she had died in the fire. My mother started looking for him again once she had settled in Dejima and the war was over but it took her fifteen year to find him. If you have the pictures then you probably have the one in which I'm dressed in men's clothes. I sent that to your house and included our address in the Netherland. It was a gamble, and a risky one at that, because I had to trust that Fersen wouldn't betray me to my mother. Bless his soul he didn't."
Kenji wash shocked. He simply couldn't imagine his father having loved any other woman than his mother. Despite all his faults, even the young man had seen that Kenshin had been completely devoted to Kaoru. Part of him wanted to believe that he had kept his other family secret because of that devotion.
"And so started our epistolary relationship. It involved my mother, of course, as I can't read," she laughed. "I think I can hear Pien coming with our basket," she said.
Kenji looked around. Sure enough, a young woman he'd seen around the house was making her way towards them. Ai got up.
"Now you have my side of the story. I'll wait for yours. Shall we go and meet up with our delicious collation, my friend?" She stretched out her hand. He smiled and took it.
"Yes. Let's."