Chapter 22
きずあと
Kenji lay on his back on the blanket, his head resting on Yumiko's lap. Her right hand distractedly played with his hair while she leaned on the other one for support. Their gazes were set on the children, playing blind man's buff with Sakurako and Sanosuke a few paces away. Their squeals and laughter floated on the light breeze. Kenji closed his eyes. The sun warmed his face.
"A perfect afternoon, wouldn't you agree?" said Yumiko.
He nodded.
"Yet you're tens as a bowstring."
He brought his hand up as a visor and looked up at her.
"Is this about what I told you, or is it about Sakurako?" she asked.
He sighed and closed his eyes.
"I don't know. Both, I guess."
He told her what the young woman had told him. She listened attentively.
"So I presume you're angrier at your father, now."
He brought his hands to his face and rubbed it down. He let out a groan.
"No. Yes. I don't know. This is just so confusing."
He quickly told her Sanosuke, Megumi and Yahiko's stories.
"So far, no one I know has seen their life improved through this change. He was part of it all and it only brought misery," he said, testily.
"More misery."
Kenji opened his eyes.
"Sorry?"
"Meiji only brought more misery," she corrected.
He sat up.
"Or misery of another kind," she continued. "Do you believe that people had lived easy and comfortable lives before the Bakumatsu?"
Her eyes probed his. He looked down. Of course they hadn't. His father and Yumiko's childhood tales proved the exact opposite. Moreover, revolutions didn't spring out of sheer happiness.
"Kenji, you're a brilliant young man, but you need to stop anger from clouding your judgement when it comes to your father."
He looked up at her. She smiled softly.
"I understand your reaction; I would feel the same if I had been told to accept a state of affairs without any explanation. I would rebel, too, because that's who I am and in this, we are very similar, you and I. But know that I am never going to ask you to forgive or forget whomever or whatever. What I tell you about Kenshin is yours to do with how you see fit. However, that anger you hold, suspend it for a moment. Maybe you'll find something else underneath. And if you don't, well it'll be there if you still need it when all is said and done."
For a moment, the feelings of that stormy night at Megumi's clinic rushed over him. He shook his head to dispel them.
"Let's talk tonight, Kenji. I will make sure there are no distractions."
xxxx
A light drizzle had started to fall, bringing the temperature down. Kenji sat by irori, wrapped in a blanket. He looked into the embers, following the glowing red patterns. Yumiko came and settled next to him, her legs folded on her side. She passed him mug filled with a dark, sweet smelling beverage.
"Cocoa," she said. "Try it."
He took a small sip. It was rich and smooth, with a little spicy aftertaste.
"A guilty pleasure. I hide from the children, the sugar makes them climb up the walls."
She took a sip and set her mug near the irori. Her smile faded.
"Shall we continue then?"
He wrapped his fingers around the warm mug.
"Yes."
She nodded.
"As I said before, your father became the Hitokiri Battosai. He wasn't the only assassin of the Ishin; there were a few throughout the Bakumatsu, but he definitely became known - and feared - very quickly. Mothers would tell their children that the Hitokiri Battosai would come and get them if they didn't eat their vegetables or go to bed. We met a little before he became one the most powerful Ishin weapons."
She told Kenji the story of his father and her meeting.
"He came to me in all states. Clean, bloodied, drenched."
"Weren't you afraid?" asked Kenji.
She shook her head.
"There never was anything to fear. I had seen my share of blood. Incidents happened at the ochaya. I also believed that as long as he walked with me, I would be alright. It was silly, I know that know; assassins could have been set on him, but I thought he was my shield."
She drank some of her cocoa.
"Actually, I remember only being scared once. That night, he came later than usual. He had blood on his collar, but for the first time, it wasn't someone else's. One of his attackers had managed to wound him on the cheek."
She traced a line on her face.
"The blood just wouldn't stop, and for many days, I dressed his wound before we left the ochaya. He protested, of course, but like I told you, I usually got my way. I was afraid at that time, not for me, but for him. If someone could cut him, maybe he wasn't so invincible after all. I didn't want him to die."
Unconsciously, Kenji brought his hand to his cheek. He'd always wondered about his father's scar. He remembered asking questions as a child, and even scratching his cheek to make it red while looking at his reflection in the water. However he'd soon discovered that of all the topics related to Kenshin's past, this one was the most taboo.
Yumiko continued her story.
"On our walks, he always talked. About everything. His childhood. His training. His work with the Ishin - nothing vital, of course. He never asked questions. However, the one thing he told me without fail was the number of his kills for that night."
He gave her a horrified look.
"I realise it sounds gruesome now, but back then, the likelihood of finding a dead body in front of your door in the morning was relatively high. We were… immuned, in a way. Or desensitised, I guess."
Kenji shuddered.
"If that was the case, why tell you? You had your own share of horror, no?"
She crossed her hand on her lap, thinking.
"I believe he just needed to tell someone, someone outside of the Ishin. At the time, I don't think he had conscious remorse for what he did - not that he relished it either. However I think this was a way for him to clear his mind of the weight of his deeds. You might find it even more disturbing that the very next day, I would always make sure to figure out who he had slain.
He stared at her in disbelief.
"I know, it's strange, but I felt compelled to do it. Of course, I would feel ill at ease afterward, my brain trying to reconcile the sweet young man who walked me home with those violent murders. To unburden myself of that knowledge, I often went to the local shrine and said a prayer or two for the departed. I guess I was hoping to lighten your father's load in the afterlife, if not in this one."
"You were really devoted to him," he said.
She smiled wistfully.
"I was younger than you are now and constantly surrounded by old men who ultimately wanted me to be their plaything. The only boys my ages also wanted to get me in their beds. Your father only talked to me. Not to boast. Not to complain. Just to talk. Yes, I fell for him. I loved him with all my soul. I would have died for him"
She paused and looked down at her hands. Her shoulders slumped forward slightly.
"But he didn't love me back. Not in the way I wanted to," she said, a near whisper. "Truth be told, he didn't really see me. I was his walking diary. I had just been there at the right time."
She looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with sadness. Kenji felt a pang of guilt for the actions of his father.
"I was fulfilling a need. But so was he. Had we both seen the end of the Bakumatsu in Kyoto, I would simply have lived the rest of my life as a geisha. As for your father, maybe he would have survived, but most likely he would have died. No matter how hard I wished for it, there would never be a us."
"What happened then?" he asked.
She looked him straight in the eyes.
"Tomoe happened."
Yumiko gave an account of Kenshin and Tomoe's meeting, and complex relationship. Kenji couldn't hide his shock as she explained how they had lived as husband and wife before her true identity was revealed.
"Why didn't she kill him when she had the chance? Why wait so long?" he asked, bewildered.
"From what I understand, she was meant to collect information on him, or at least, that's what she was told. But things went South and ending up in Otsu hadn't been part of the original plan. I know this is really hard to understand Kenji, but she came to cherish your father, even though he had murdered her fiance. Love is a very complex emotion. She hadn't expected to fall for him, but her superiors had hoped for just that. He had no weaknesses, so they gave him one."
"So he loved her, too?"he asked, incredulous.
She nodded.
"Very much, although he never told me in as many words. Tomoe was your father's first love. She gave him something I could never have. Despite the strange circumstances that had brought them together, she was able to give him what he had wanted the most."
"What was that?"
She sighed.
"The very thing you're seeking, Kenji. A normal life."
Her words hit him like a pile of bricks. A normal life. Yes. It didn't matter what shape or form it took, he did long for normalcy. Had this been what his father had sought as well? It made no sense.
"But surely he knew his life wouldn't be normal by joining the Ishin!"
"You forget that your father felt he had a debt to repay. He would never have been able to find peace while other people suffered in the turmoil. He hoped for absolution on the other side of war, but he found it in its midst."
He leaned forward.
"If living with that woman brought him so much happiness, why couldn't he find the same happiness in our home?"
Kenji heard his voice crack. He took a deep breath. Now wasn't the time for tears. He had had enough of those.
"We will get to this, I promise, but let's not get ahead of the story just yet."
She shifted positions. For the first time, he spied the scarred skin of her right leg. She followed his gaze.
"We will get to this, too. Be patient."
He nodded reluctantly and took another sip of his beverage. He found it cloying and unpleasant.
"The man who revealed Tomoe's treachery also was a traitor. He sent Kenshin after Tomoe so that they could kill him. He almost died on his way there, attacked countless times by strategically positioned shinobis. But the thought of Tomoe kept him going. When he finally faced their boss, he was half-dead. In fact, he should have died. But Tomoe, who bore witness to this last fight intervened"
Kenji hung on her lips.
"She interposed herself between your father and his opponent. Kenshin, disoriented and desperate didn't see her. With the last of his strength, he blindly stroke down."
She paused.
" Your father came to his senses and saw that he had slain both his foe and his lover. With the last of her strength she slashed his cheek, her cut intersecting her fiance's. She died in his arms."
The rain outside drizzled against the amado. The fire crackled. She looked at him. Kenji held his breath.
"You father destroyed his own happiness with the very tool he had hoped to use to create it. Although he later vowed to spend his life helping people, there was a darkness in him now where there had been light. He truly came of age that day. Katsura heard of the incident and moved him to another position shortly after, which probably saved his life."
Kenji felt a heavy weight in his stomach. He clenched his fists on his lap and focused on the fire. His vision tunneled. He simply couldn't reconcile these facts with his father. They explained a lot, but he couldn't picture him acting out these tragics events. He realised for the first time that his father had been more than just his father; he'd been an individual, a human being, with hopes and fears, just like himself.
Suddenly, a thought came to his mind. He got up and scrambled to his trunk. He opened it and foraged around. Yumiko simply stared at him, her head cocked to the side. He finally found a furoshiki wrapped bundle. He walked back to the irori and set the package between them.
"I found this in my father's room."
He tried to untie the knots with his trembling fingers. Yumiko put her hands on his and squeezed.
"Let me do it."
He sat back.
Delicately, she untied the furoshiki to reveal a pile of neatly folded fabric. She picked up the first one and draped it across her lap. The blue stained silk shimmered in the light of the fire. She looked up at him with a complex expression, somewhere between shock and pain.
"This… This was Tomoe's," she whispered.
A shiver ran along his spine. He watched as she caressed the fabric with her fingertips, avoiding the stains.
"He wore it the last time I saw him. I can't believe he…"
She found the end of the scarf and probed it with her fingers, looking for something. She lifted the hem and brought it close to the light for him to see. A few unskillful stitches in black thread stood out.
"I did those. The scarf was unravelling..." she said in a small voice.
Holding on to the fabric, she let her hands fall on her lap. She stared ahead, far away in another time, another place. He looked down at the rest of the bundle, hesitating. He shook his head. He needed to finish this. He needed answers.
He picked up his father's hakamashita and handed it to her. She jumped when the rough fabric touched her hands. She looked at the garment then lifted it up, unfolding it. She shook her head and smiled. Tears started to roll down her cheeks.
"He wore this all the time. I don't think he owned anything else."
She folded Kenshin's clothes on her lap, gingerly running her fingers across it. Kenji handed her the hakama. He observed her as she inspected both garments, the scarf forgotten.
"I can't believe he kept these for all those years."
Tears flowed freely from her eyes, yet she still smiled. Kenji wasn't sure was aware of his presence anymore. She suddenly looked younger; her movements were more graceful, her expression softer. She hugged the clothes to her chest and buried her face in them. Kenji had a sharp vision of his mother doing the exact same thing, many years ago. For the first time, he felt the magnitude of Kaoru's love for Kenshin. He still couldn't comprehend it, but it was clear that, just like Yumiko's love, it had been truly unconditional.