Disclaimer: all character rights belong to Watsuki Nobuhiro, Shueisha etc. This is a work of fiction based in part on historical facts.
Meiji Keikan Romantan
Chapter 6 – The Road to Osaka
* Dates and places are noted at the beginning of each section as there are numerous scene changes. This chapter starts right after Saitou, Kenshin and Sano set off to stop Shishio setting sail on the Rengoku – manga volume 12, chapters 98 – 101. For the references to the Battle of Toba-Fushimi, see The Courtship of Lady Tokio: Chapter 29 'The Year of the Dragon'.
= Meiji Year 11 (1878), June, Kyoto to Osaka =
"Tobu ga gotoku!" Sagara Sanosuke shouted at the top of his lungs as the carriage hurtled down the road to Osaka. "Fly like the wind!"
He barely managed to dodge the blade that thrust through the roof of the cabin beneath him and almost fell off.
"Driver! Shake off the trash on the roof!" Saitou Hajime ordered in a harsh tone.
"Aaah! Saitou! You jerk!" Sanosuke hung on to the side of the carriage by the skin of his nails as he attempted to clamber back up.
"Sano, perhaps it would be safer if you sat with the driver!" Himura Kenshin called out through the open window, trying to defuse the escalating tension between the irritable police officer and the rambunctious young man.
"And shut the hell up!" Saitou snapped. "It's not too late for me to change my mind about bringing you along, you fool."
"Alright, stop freaking out," Sanosuke grumbled as he edged his way to the front of the carriage. "I was only trying to raise our morale." He gestured to the driver to make room; the man did not seem entirely pleased to share his seat for Sano had stepped on his head only a few minutes earlier. "Hey, where are the rice balls they packed for us, Kenshin?"
Himura sighed and was about to say something about waiting until later to eat, but Saitou's expression was clear: 'give the idiot something to stuff his mouth with so that he'll keep quiet'.
Once Sanosuke had settled down, contentedly munching on his snack, Saitou and Himura fell silent, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Just over an hour ago, Himura had deduced Shishio Makoto's hidden plan behind the Great Kyoto Fire and they had immediately sprung into action. Telegrams had been wired to Osaka and Tokyo, and Himura had written a letter to the Oniwabanshu at the Aoiya. The fastest horses in the service were harnessed for their departure; messages were sent to outposts along the highway to try to keep the road clear for their passage. Having skirted around the busy streets of the city center, they were now almost at the boundaries of Kyoto. Whether they would make it in time to prevent Shishio from setting sail for Tokyo would be up to fate.
As he watched the landscape pass by, Saitou reviewed the details of the operation. He could not very well be in two places at once, and although pursuing Shishio Makoto took precedence, he nonetheless remained troubled about the situation in Kyoto. There were experienced firefighters on hand from all over the region, as well as five thousand police officers in the city. They knew what needed to be done and he trusted them (for the most part) to see through their duty. However, the issue of the Juppongatana troubled him: if Shishio were really leaving them behind in Kyoto, then there would be no avoiding casualties. The massacre in Kobe rose to mind – 'Mōken no Usui' would have to be dealt with at a later date. Saitou closed his eyes, thinking about those who might die that night. With any luck, fatalities would be kept to a minimum, and that would have to be good enough. He was not so foolish or naïve as to hope that no lives would be lost in this battle.
"Will your men in Tokyo be prepared in case we are not able to prevent Shishio's ship from leaving port?" Himura restarted the conversation, his mind concerned with the same matters as Saitou's.
"I've sent word to my contacts in the Army and Navy. If we don't succeed, then the Navy will blockade Tokyo Bay and the army will be standing by on the docks. My superiors are hopeful that they'll remain in reserve." Mobilizing the military was their last option; the government feared the information leaking to the general populace and foreign powers almost as much as they feared Shishio Makoto.
"And we'll follow by boat?" With a twinge of remorse, Himura thought about Kaoru and Yahiko in Kyoto. After they had followed him all the way there, no doubt they would be upset if he were to leave them behind again.
"The police are trying to prepare a government ship for us but one mightn't be available until morning. If it comes to it, we'll have to commandeer a civilian vessel." Saitou lit up a cigarette.
"I see." The smell of tobacco tickled Himura's nose but he did not complain.
The sun had almost set on the horizon and the evening star winked in the darkening sky. They were passing through Fushimi now, and Himura turned to look at the scenery. He had fought here, in the Battle of Toba-Fushimi, against the very man who sat opposite him now. Here it was that he had last killed a man. He gripped the hilt of his sword, haunted for a moment by the face of his last victim, a samurai of Aizu, who had fought bravely to the end. There was no describing the relief he had felt when he heard that the Shogun had absconded from the battle, taking with him the Lords of Aizu and Kuwana. The Ishin Shishi had won their revolution; he could finally let go of his bloodstained sword and embark on a new path, in a new era. This was where his life as 'Hitokiri Himura Battousai' had ended and his life as 'Rurouni Himura Kenshin' had begun. How strange were the twists of fate that had led him to this point. If someone had told him back then that one day, he would be fighting alongside the Third Captain of the Shinsengumi for a mutual cause, he would have dismissed the idea as absurd.
Yet, the man had turned up out of the blue for just that reason, and Himura Kenshin had been dragged back into the murky eddies of the Bakumatsu. Shishio Makoto was a more dangerous individual than he had ever imagined and his megalomania knew no bounds. Even working together with Saitou and Sanosuke, the success of the mission was far from assured. Nevertheless, they could not afford to lose under any circumstances. The weight of the lives relying on them was enormous, and the fate of Japan lay in the outcome of their battle.
Surprisingly, Himura found that the burden was not unbearable. The knowledge that he was not alone, that there were people who cared about and supported him, who would fight with him, who were waiting for him to come home with them – now he could appreciate how much strength and comfort they gave him. And he was also grateful; grateful for the chance he had been given to conquer his inner demon, the specter of the 'Hitokiri Battousai' that had always hovered over him whenever he fought. He glanced at his companion, whose nonchalant smoking was merely a smokescreen for the fierce commitment to his own ideals. In a way, it was fitting that Saitou Hajime had been the last man to draw out those murderous impulses. Himura Kenshin was determined that he would never give in to those base instincts again. The Hitokiri Battousai had disappeared on the battlefields of Toba-Fushimi, in the chaos of the Boshin War, and he would have no more of a role in history.
"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" It was no stretch for Saitou to guess what was on his mind.
"Aah…. I don't recognize most of it though."
Except for a few telltale landmarks, the place was wholly unfamiliar to him. Back then the entire area had been engulfed by war. Buildings had been burned to ashes, the streets had been ripped apart by cannon fire, and bodies had littered the ground. From the ruins of war, Fushimi had been rebuilt and the townsfolk were hustling and bustling as the day drew to an end. Did he feel relieved by this tangible proof that people could recover from the depths of hell?
Through the blue shadows of twilight, the carriage raced on. The lights of the taverns and inns along the highway stretched out before them; fortunately, nightfall meant very few people would be on the road. It was a road Saitou was quite familiar with, for he had traveled to Osaka many times during his years in the Shinsengumi. And although he was not a sentimental man, he could not help but feel the pull of the past as they sped towards the coast. Perhaps it was the presence of Himura Kenshin that made the memories of those days seem so fresh. He tensed slightly as they crossed the bridge over Uji River; he could almost hear Hijikata Toshizō's voice yelling at them to retreat to Yodo Castle with the main Aizu force. Until the Battle of Toba-Fushimi, the Shinsengumi had never lost in battle, but Kondō Isami had been wounded before it even began, and Inoue Gensaburō had fallen, then Yamazaki Susumu. It was the last time that Okita Souji had fought also. What would his old comrades think of him now, being accompanied by their deadliest foe on this mission? No doubt they would laugh at the ironies of history. Like him, perhaps a part of them would regret that their target was not the Hitokiri Battousai himself, but more than that, they would regret that they could not fight with him too. They would also tell him not to be in a hurry to join them. He gripped the hilt of his sword as he smiled inwardly, remembering a promise he had made to Hijikata. The taste of cigarettes would never let him forget. "I have no intention of dying anytime soon."
"After all, a decade has gone by, Battousai." Saitou exhaled slowly. "Time changes all things, save for human nature."
"You really believe that people don't change?" Himura leaned back against the seat.
"Once their formative years are over, people's natures are fixed. Superficially, it might seem as though they change, but fundamentally, the core stays the same." Saitou tilted his head back, looking down at the shorter man. "A wolf is a wolf, and once a Shinsengumi captain, always a Shinsengumi captain."
"People's true natures are sometimes hard to see," Himura lowered his gaze. "And although they can't alter their past, they can choose to live a different future."
"People's true natures will always reveal themselves." Saitou fixed him with a piercing look. "Live by the sword and die by the sword. There is no other path for us, Battousai."
Himura Kenshin did not reply, for he did not have an answer as to whether Saitou was right or wrong. The thought disturbed him that over ten years after the Bakumatsu, there was still a need for men like them. The country appeared to have grown peaceful but that was on the surface only. Okubo Toshimichi's words echoed in his mind: "I found it was far easier to destroy the old era than to build a new one." The Meiji Ishin was not over yet; in his heart, he felt that it would not be truly accomplished until the philosophy of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryū became the truth of kenjutsu. That was another reason why he was drawn to Kaoru, because of her pure sincerity in the pursuit of her ideal. Whatever Saitou might say, he also had a truth that he would not compromise.
"Even if it is as you say, it won't change my vow of 'korosazu', and my sword will always be the sakabatou." Himura's voice was quiet but very clear.
His words struck Saitou Hajime as never before. In spite of what he had said about people's natures being fixed, Saitou had sensed the shift in Himura Kenshin's character from the moment that he had arrived at the Kyoto Police Headquarters. The difference was becoming increasingly apparent; Himura somehow seemed more whole, more stable, and he was more distant than ever from the infamous assassin that had been the bane of the Bakufu. It unsettled Saitou that his argument was being undermined by something that he could not quite put his finger on.
"Tch! Out of all the swords in Japan, you had to go and find yourself another useless blade." The cigarette dangled precariously from his lips.
"The sakabatou wasn't so useless when it broke your sword." Himura cocked his head; his statement earned him another glare from Saitou. "Speaking of which, you found a new weapon too." His eyes traveled to the sword that had almost destroyed the carriage roof a short while ago. It was now sheathed beside the police officer, but it had not escaped Himura's eye that it was a very fine blade.
"First generation Miyoshi Nagamichi." Although Saitou tried to keep his voice cool, a note of satisfaction crept into it.
"Aizu Kotetsu…!" Himura's eyes widened. "How did you manage to get your hands on a saijō-ō-wazamono?" A blade made by one of the best swordsmiths of the Edo period was surely beyond the means of a civil servant, no matter how good Saitou's pay might be.
"None of your business." The provenance of the sword was personal and he was not inclined to share it with his temporary comrade.
"I see…." Himura narrowed his eyes. "There are perks to government work."
"What are you implying?" Saitou's tone rose slightly.
"The Shinsengumi were always flashy with money that wasn't theirs," Himura said cuttingly. He could see that he was provoking Saitou, but he could not resist another dig at the man's expense. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a tax robber though," he shrugged.
"Hah! Says the man who hasn't paid taxes his whole life." Saitou blew smoke directly into his face, causing Himura to cough. "You needn't get so indignant. The sword didn't cost taxpayers a single yen."
"Did you blackmail a sword dealer then?" He was fully aware that he was getting under Saitou's skin, and he was doing it purposefully. "And you were using such a treasure to poke Sano's buttocks…." He shook his head disapprovingly.
Rather than replying, Saitou flicked some cigarette ash at him, which landed on his lap.
"Ah! My hakama!" Himura hastily brushed it off before the ember could burn a hole through the fabric.
"It wasn't on purpose," Saitou drawled, obviously lying.
"Keep it down back there, will ye?" Sanosuke's voice called from the front. "Sheesh! After telling me to shut up!"
Himura Kenshin let out a long sigh. It would be a wonder if the three of them did not come to blows before they reached Osaka.
The three men, as much alike as unlike, made for an odd alliance. Outside, Sagara Sanosuke was being uncharacteristically silent. It could be that he was reflecting on the upcoming battle, or perhaps he was dozing, taking some rest while he could. Opposite Saitou, Himura Kenshin withdrew once more into his meditations. Hardly more than a month had passed since they had crossed swords at the Kamiya dojo. "Come. I will deny your everything." That had been Saitou's honest feeling at the time, fueled by his antipathy towards the hypocrisy of a swordsman who wielded a sword that could not kill, the fantasies of a dreamer who turned away from the harsh realities of the world, even though he ought to know better. The façade had peeled away easily enough. "I'm the one who's going to kill you." He had felt vindicated when he heard Himura Kenshin utter those words at the time. In a way, now he almost felt betrayed by the man who had failed to meet those expectations. Over the course of a few weeks, Himura had changed, no matter what Saitou would prefer to believe, and the proof was right before his eyes. "What he lacks in himself to stand fast cannot be as obvious as mere killing intent." Tokio had wondered aloud during their brief reunion after the events at Shingetsu-mura. He closed his eyes as her words played over in his mind. Perhaps she was right, as she so often was.
= Meiji Year 11, May 7th, Tokyo – Bunkyo ward =
The one drawback to having an excellent guard dog at home was that Fujita Gorō could never sneak into his own house. Despite the fact that it was past midnight, Tokio was waiting for him, kneeling inside the genkan with a lamp beside her. Stepping inside, rather than address her, he glared down at the large white dog whose tail was a blur of delight at seeing her master.
"Oi, Muku, what the hell did you wake her up for?"
Muku gave a small whine, unsure of what she had done wrong; she sniffed at her master's hand, waiting for him to pet her as he usually did when he returned. The dog was also agitated by the smell of blood that clung to him; although he had tried to clean himself up before coming home, some things could not be easily washed away.
As he handed his sword to Tokio, he knew that she had already realized that it was the spare that he kept at the station and not the weapon that had hung by his side for many years. He met her gaze as she swallowed her words, for she knew better than to pester him with questions before he had even taken off his shoes. Still, nothing escaped her notice: the welt on his forehead, the stiffness of his neck, the bloodstains on his jacket, the missing belt, and not least, the predatory look in his eyes. Saitou Hajime had killed that night, and he could not hide it from his wife. After he stepped up into the hallway, she finally greeted him in her usual manner.
"Okaerinasai-mase, Danna-sama." She bowed neatly, her hands forming a triangle before her knees.
"Aah." He crouched down and tilted her chin up to look at him. Unable to contain herself any longer, Muku jumped between them and began licking his chin. "Ah, get down, you mutt!" There was affection in his voice as he took a hold of the scruff of her neck and scratched her ears.
Tokio smiled faintly and rose to her feet, helping her husband remove his stained jacket.
"I'm afraid it's too late to draw a bath, but they do say that one shouldn't bathe in hot water after a head injury." Although her voice was quiet, it raised the hairs on the back of Fujita's neck. "Do you need to clean your sword?" She knew the answer without having to ask but she asked anyway; a blade that had drawn blood needed to be cleaned quickly and thoroughly. "And your uniform will need to be soaked tonight."
She turned around to head down the corridor.
"Oi, Tokio!" Fujita called out after her.
"Please don't raise your voice, you'll wake Tsutomu." She answered without looking behind her, but just as she was about to turn the corner, a pair of white gloves lightly smacked the back of her head. Pausing for a moment to gauge the offending items, she threw a fierce glance over her shoulder at her husband.
"They need to be washed too." He tried to brush off his tactical error; he had simply wanted to lighten the mood but it had backfired.
She made no reply as she disappeared, taking the lamp with her. Left standing in the dark entrance of his house, Fujita let out a sigh and patted Muku again.
It was not that Tokio was truly angry, he mulled as he made his way to the back courtyard. She was simply concerned that he had gone overboard, despite her trust in him and the fact that she supported him in every way she could. In hindsight, he would admit that perhaps he had taken things a little too far in his duel with Himura Kenshin. He drew up a bucket of water from the well; the temperature was bracing as he splashed his face and took the edge off the lingering blood lust. The wound on his head had barely closed and it still stung. Worse was the pain in his neck. He rinsed out his mouth – he cursed silently as he thought how close he had come to biting his tongue when the Battousai had struck him under the chin with the sheathe of his sword.
He turned as he sensed movement on the engawa. Having laid out a towel and a yukata for him, Tokio was lighting the hibachi and preparing some tea. She had also brought out his sword cleaning kit, and the medicine chest. He stepped up into the house and then, deliberately, slowly, he stripped out of the rest of his clothes. In the earlier days of their marriage, she would have looked away abashed, turning scarlet at the sight of her husband's body. Now, she coolly met his gaze, even going so far as to raise an eyebrow as though to say, "and what now?" He chuckled despite her chilly demeanor.
"I didn't kill him, if that's what your mood is about." He answered her unspoken recriminations, pulling on the yukata. She gathered up his uniform, removing the packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, another silent question forming in her mind as she placed the clothes in a basin of cold water. "Shibumi – the man behind Kurogasa and other assassinations." He tied the obi loosely at his waist. "And one of his underlings," he added as an afterthought as he sat down.
"Then Himura Battousai…." She looked at him intently as she sat down next to him.
" – Was talking to Okubo Toshimichi when I left." Her eyes grew wide at his words. "Sagara Sanosuke was up and about too." Fujita felt the tension in his shoulders ease somewhat as she smiled at him warmly at last.
"Will he take the assignment then?" When her husband had first returned home, Tokio had been afraid that he had killed the man that could help him the most in the fight against Shishio Makoto. Now, she was anxious that Himura Kenshin would refuse to participate in what was essentially an assassination, albeit the assassination of the most dangerous kind of terrorist.
"If he's even half the man he used to be, and still cares about the future of the country, he'll know what he needs to do." There was a coolness to his voice, not quite skepticism nor confidence in the man that he had been sent to test.
If he doubted Himura Kenshin, it was not his abilities as much as his strength of mind. The Hitokiri Battousai that Saitou Hajime had known during the Bakumatsu was a ruthless demon committed to his cause. Rurouni Himura Kenshin, in contrast, was a lost soul. Still, at the end, the fight might well have taken place on the deadly streets of Kyoto. Fujita suppressed a smirk as he recalled the scene not hours ago, when it seemed as though he would finally be able to end their decade long enmity, having surrendered to the thrill of battle. Just as well that Okubo Toshimichi had intervened, otherwise Tokio would have had real cause to be angry.
Tokio tilted her head slightly, a knowing look in her eye.
"I think you enjoyed yourself far too much tonight, despite what you might say about doing your duty for the country." She sighed resignedly and shook her head; this time, he did not try to hide his smirk.
Taking his spare sword in hand, he began to examine it for nicks. Tokio moved closer, and carefully examined him for any other signs of injury besides the one on his forehead. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the large bruise on the back of the neck. He cleaned the sword silently, no need for words as she prepared and wrapped a compress around his neck. That one could have been fatal, they both knew, and her hand rested for a while on his shoulder. His hand covered hers for a moment, an acknowledgement of her apprehensions and a reassurance. Tokio's hand was soft and warm as she proceeded to apply a soothing salve to his forehead. For a moment, he was tempted to tell her that he had other injuries just so that she would continue her ministrations, but thought better of it. Instead, he continued to wipe down the blade.
"Your sword, what happened?" Her voice was calm but he did not miss the furrow in her brow. She rested her chin on his shoulder, a privilege that only she and their son were entitled to.
"It snapped, caught the sharp edge of the sakabatou at a bad angle." His answer caused her to gasp. Fujita's demeanor gave away none of the regret that he felt at the loss of his old weapon. It had served him well, but it was fitting that its last battle was against the Hitokiri Battousai.
"You'll need a new sword, and quickly." She bit her lip as she mentally listed the swords he kept in his study. All of them were of a high quality, but she would not feel at ease unless he found one that was superior.
"Hmph. The Battousai should find a new weapon too." His lip curled; the very notion of the sakabatou was ridiculous to him.
"His sakabatou must be a very well made sword," Tokio said with a pensive look. "And he appears very committed to his vow. Even the sharpest blade will be no good if he wields it reluctantly. It is better that he has a sword that he does not hesitate with."
"The sakabatou is a fool's promise." Having finished cleaning the sword, he sheathed it and set it aside. "The Hitokiri is right below the surface, and his identity as a rurouni is as thin as a paper screen. Better he come to terms with his true nature than live such an unstable existence."
"I wonder…." She lowered her gaze from his face to the lamp, staring at the light as an old memory surfaced. A brief conversation on a cold winter's day, the cross-shaped scar still fresh on his left cheek. "He should never have joined the Ishin Shishi as an assassin in the first place."
"Well, aren't you being awfully sympathetic to the man who tried to kill your husband today?" Fujita felt a touch of irritation that his wife might be more understanding of Himura Kenshin than he was.
"Oh, so I ought to be grateful to Himura Battousai for using a sakabatou?" The mild tone belied the flare of emotion in her eyes. She had played the part of the patient wife, tending to his wounds without any complaint, but his last statement stoked her ire.
"Even if he hadn't, he still couldn't have killed me," he answered, fully aware that his answer would aggravate her. "Anyway, it was a mutual thing."
"You weren't supposed to try to kill him, you were only supposed to test his strength." Her voice was low but steely.
"I did – he couldn't kill me." Despite the fact that she was agitated, he was enjoying the banter.
"Whereas you chose not to kill him?" She emphasized the word 'chose'.
"Correct." He reached for his cigarettes.
"Did you also choose to injure your neck?" She handed him an ashtray.
"Wouldn't have happened if I'd skewered him with my first strike. Which I didn't do, deliberately." He struck a match and inhaled deeply, savoring the flavor of tobacco.
"Losing sight of your mission for the sake of a personal vendetta, being injured in the process, and in the end letting your target live." She pulled away from him, sitting up straight and stiff as a rod. "If Hijikata-sama were here, he would have no choice but to order you to commit seppuku. Would you like me to stand in as your kaishaku?"
"Hah. Instead of the Demon Vice-Commander, it seems I've got a demon wife." He smirked.
"Fitting for a Shinsengumi Captain, wouldn't you say?" She looked down, hoping that he would not see that she had almost laughed. "And how convenient, we have a sharp sword right here."
Her hand made towards the weapon but he grasped it first and drew her back close to him, holding her gaze steadily.
"Hijikata-san will just have to overlook my transgressions from beyond the grave, because I made a promise to my wife to live a long life. I have no intention of dying anytime soon."
He had promised her that he would always return home to her, and that when he died, he would be old and content, and by her side. This time, Tokio could not help but laugh, surrendering to her husband's teasing. What a hold his amber eyes had over her that she could never stay annoyed at him for too long.
"I suppose he'll think it punishment enough that you're married to me." She smiled ruefully, recalling his former superior's opinion of her. "Demon wife that I am."
"Marriage is the ultimate battle to the death, after all." He grinned wolfishly.
"So you're saying that rather than Himura Battousai, I'm your arch nemesis, Hajime-sama?" She sighed while handing him a cup of tea.
"You make me drink tea instead of saké, and you threaten to behead me with my own sword. Definitely arch nemesis material." He took a sip. "This is disgusting. What's in it?"
"It's medicinal, and injured men should not drink alcohol. This is good for you." She brought her own cup to her lips as to prove her point; however, the face she made as she swallowed proved his.
"Didn't I say?" He snorted triumphantly.
"It's good for you," she repeated with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
It was not that she had really been angry with him, she said to herself. Nonetheless, concern for his wellbeing and his work would occasionally manifest in a prickly temperament, especially when she thought he was being cavalier about the risks and consequences – and he did not begrudge her for it. He had walked a fine line that day, they both knew, although he would try to downplay it for her sake. For his part, he did not deny that he took a certain pride in the fact that she felt as invested in his work as he did. A good wife was a man's treasure, so he had been told, and Tokio was by far the greatest treasure that he could ever have imagined. Four years of marriage had only added to his appreciation of her, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he mocked himself for thinking that even the way she stifled a yawn was captivating.
"You don't need to stay up to keep me company," he said while exhaling tendrils of smoke. She shook her head in response; she would not retire to sleep before him.
"I'm glad that you're home…." She murmured softly.
Working so late into the night, it would have been easier for him to sleep at the office. Back when they had first married, he had been reluctant to come home after he had killed. In spite of the fact that he knew she had witnessed violence and death (by his hands no less), it seemed to him an entirely different matter to ask her to wash the bloodstains out of his clothes. They had argued about it, and she had won.
"It is unacceptable to me that somebody else be tasked with looking after my husband's person, just because you want to shield me from the reality of your work. I married you, knowing full well what that entailed."
His lips curved in a faint smile and he mused, he should have known better in the first place. He was brought back to the present as Tokio spoke to him again.
"So, now that you've closed the case on the assassination ring, you'll be assigned full time to the Shishio Makoto investigation?" Neither of them would lose sleep over the demise of Shibumi and Akamatsu, but the threat that Shishio posed was another story.
"It depends on what Okubo and Kawaji wants – and on what the Battousai decides." He drained the tea, grimacing at the aftertaste. "I'll have to spend some time in Kyoto if I get it."
"Kyoto…. How nostalgic that will be." She closed her eyes wistfully.
"If I get it." He narrowed his eyes. "They might decide that it's not a good idea for me to work with the Battousai after tonight, and keep me here."
"Oh my, but you would hate that," she said teasingly. "See, that's why you should have behaved yourself better when you were fighting him."
"Hmph. There's nobody else on the force that could have done that job." He stubbed out his cigarette as though to reinforce the point.
"I'm sure, and you did it so efficiently too – killing two assignments with one sword. Or two rather." She nodded emphatically.
"Tokio, don't try my patience with terrible jokes." He pinched her cheek, scowling.
"Hahime-hama," she protested.
Without letting go, he pulled her face close to his.
"If I go to Kyoto, there'll be a guard duty to watch the house day and night. But you need to be careful."
"If you go to Kyoto, do not worry about us – I'll make sure that Kobayashi-san knows to watch for suspicious men in your absence. And you need to be careful as there are people in the city who'll let me know if you stay with the geishas of Gion or Shimabara."
"Tokio, I'm being serious." His amber eyes glinted in the lamplight.
"As am I." Tokio tiled her head, gazing into his eyes, and kissed him ever so lightly on the lips. "Your family will always be here, waiting for your safe return. I keep my promises to my husband too."
= Meiji Year 11 (1878), June, Kyoto to Osaka =
Saitou looked up as he felt Himura observing him, but the other man averted his gaze. Another few minutes passed before Himura broke the silence with an unexpected question.
"Saitou, I would like to know, how is Eiji?"
It was not an unreasonable inquiry, and Saitou recognized that it was not so much an infringement of his privacy as simply concern for a child whose life they had saved together. Even so, he was hardly a man to be open about such things.
"He's doing as well as can be expected," he answered shortly. Tokio periodically sent him letters and one had just arrived the day before.
"He is still staying with your wife?" Himura followed up, despite Saitou's obvious disinclination to discuss the topic.
"Yes."
"What he had to suffer is not something that can be easily overcome…." Himura murmured, and the corner of Saitou's mouth twitched.
"Are you implying that my wife might not be a suitable guardian? You're worried that she's as disagreeable as you find me?"
"Well, surely not. Otherwise you'd have killed each other by now," came the deadpan response.
"Hmph." Saitou suppressed a smirk as he recalled Himura's immediate reaction to the revelation that he was married.
"But I gather that if she can put up with you, then she'll be able to manage Eiji's grief," Himura continued in an earnest tone, despite the jibe at Saitou.
Without missing a beat, Saitou repeated the words that he had said when they parted ways at Shingetsu-mura.
"I already told you, Tokio is a capable woman. You don't need to worry about the boy." It was the second time that his former enemy had praised his wife without any hint of self-consciousness, Himura noted. He found himself wondering what kind of woman could have earned Saitou's respect to such a degree, and he would have to admit that without ever having met her, he respected her too, if only for the fact that she could tolerate being married to such a man.
"Your wife, Tokio-dono –" He began again, but was immediately cut off by Saitou, whose glare intensified.
"What's with the inane chitchat, Battousai?"
"She must be worried about you." He was only trying to be polite, but he should have known that it would not matter to Saitou.
"She knew what she was getting into before we married. It's not your place to comment." Saitou answered dryly, reaching into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. "And if you breathe a word of her to the rooster-head, I will personally guarantee to employ all means in my power to make your life as uncomfortable as I can."
The last thing Saitou needed was for Sanosuke to find out about his family and kick up a fuss; the aggravation that would ensue could push a man to murder.
"What about if something should happen to you in the course of battle?" There was the barest hint of an edge to Himura's question.
"What about it? If you're thinking about some harebrained thing like paying your respects ... Ahou." Saitou sneered as he lit up a cigarette.
"There is such a thing as formality –"
"Formality? Hah!" Saitou snorted in contempt. "Since when have the two of us stood on any kind of ceremony? And why the hell would you think that you'll survive the mission and I won't?"
"That's not what I meant, but there are no absolutes in battle, Saitou." Himura frowned; arguing with Saitou always seemed to go round in circles.
"Then I'll only say this once. If in the extremely unlikely event that I die in the line of duty, don't even think about going to see her." Saitou articulated slowly to underscore his statement. "She won't want your condolences, and you'll only cause her added grief. If she decides that she wants to meet with you for whatever reason, she'll know how to find you." Wisps of smoke escaped from his lips and fled out of the window.
He was not being entirely honest. Tokio would in all likelihood appreciate Himura Kenshin's sympathy, but he frankly did not wish for Himura Kenshin to become involved in his family affairs, even in the event of his demise. However, Himura looked as though he still wanted to debate this point of decorum; Saitou decided to put the nail in his argument.
"Or what, do you expect me to go pay my respects to Kamiya Kaoru if you don't make it back? How do you think she'd feel about that?"
Saitou's words were strangely persuasive. When he thought about it, Himura could not imagine Kaoru finding comfort in such a scene either.
"Fine, I understand." This time, it was Himura who gave a small snort – there really was little friendship lost between him and Saitou Hajime.
"In any case, I have no intention of dying anytime soon." Saitou paused, and then added casually, "I don't break my promises to my wife." Himura's eyes grew wide at the offhand admission that Saitou was beholden to something besides the Shinsengumi creed, but it was the next statement that hit him like a blow. "And if you have any intention of doing right by your tanuki girl, I suggest that you don't either."
To that, he had no reply.
Truth be told, Kamiya Kaoru's arrival in Kyoto had unsettled Himura. Their unexpected reunion at Hiko Seijūrō's hut had not just surprised him, but also delighted, worried and angered him all at once. The person he had missed most since he had departed Tokyo was also the one he feared for the most – that she would inevitably be drawn into the fray, that she would be placed in danger because of him, that he would not be able to protect her. His heart had beat so rapidly when he saw her, in a way that he had long forgotten that it could. Although he had tried his best to maintain his composure, there was no hiding that he had been stunned. She had followed him to Kyoto because she cared about him; there was no clearer expression of her feelings. How foolish it was of her, and yet how endearing he found it at the same time. For over a decade, Himura Kenshin had barricaded his heart behind a general amiability. As a rurouni, he had been friendly to all (or at least almost all) who crossed his path but had made no true friends. Then, by a quirk of destiny, he had met Kaoru. Despite his guardedness, the past few months in Tokyo had affected him, and caused him to remember the fleeting happiness he had experienced with Yukishiro Tomoe. Tomoe, his wife, who had taught him what it meant to love and to lose, who had died in his stead, and by his hands. He had believed that he ought to keep his distance from Kaoru, for he was quite unsure that he deserved to be close to someone as innocent as she was. However, he must now acknowledge that as far as his heart was concerned, it was no longer an option. His own feelings for the young woman could no longer be denied, and he must come to terms with them. More than ten years had passed since the unfading scars had been carved into his cheek and his soul. Perhaps it was time to lay his ghosts to rest.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the movement of a gloved hand as it flicked ash outside. Saitou undoubtedly had ghosts of his own to grapple with, as did everyone who had lived and fought through the Bakumatsu. 'Even a man like Saitou can settle down, and care about his wife….' As odd as the idea was, it also encouraged him to a degree. He was in no way as difficult or as unpleasant as Saitou Hajime (of that much he was confident); if the former Miburo had managed to find a worthy and willing partner, then it proved the old adage, 'a lid for every pot', or for swordsmen, 'a sheath for every sword'. The sheer incongruity of Saitou's family life made it a shocking fact. Yet, life was full of stories stranger than fiction, and he would not resent the man for his domestic happiness.
Happiness – could what he felt when he was with Kaoru be called happiness? Could he make Kaoru happy? Did she really want him to stay with her? Would his days of wandering finally come to an end, would he be content to remain in one place? Could he one day have a family to call his own, a home where he belonged? Would the battles that defined his life ever come to a close? Those questions inevitably led to others that caused a shiver to run up his spine, from hope to sorrow. What would become then of his journey of atonement, and how could he make amends for his sins? Or was it egotistical of him to presume that his particular set of woes was unique and unyielding, and that he alone was not entitled to the joys of a normal life? Despite all the time that had passed, he had never let go of the dread and terror of that fateful moment, of the scent of hakubaikou mixed with the metallic taste of blood. So many years ago, he had armored himself in his guilt and now, it had become such a part of him that to set it down seemed almost profane. Nonetheless, in recent months, in his heart of hearts, he had begun to realize that the pain had begun to loosen its grip. Recently, when he thought about her, Tomoe's last smile shone brightly in his memory and what remained was a feeling of quiet tenderness. "It's all right, please don't cry." He had never accepted those last words of hers; it was not Tomoe's ghost that bound him to his penance, but his own conscience that it would be disrespectful to her memory if he found happiness without her. True absolution was still in the far off distance, and these were issues that he needed more time to make peace with.
The carriage bounced over a rough patch of road and caused Himura to bump his forehead against the window. Jolted out of his reverie, he calmed his mind, aware that Saitou, who had finished smoking his cigarette, was merely pretending not to notice his introspection. First things first: they still had to deal with Shishio. He must focus on the task at hand.
= Tokyo – Bunkyo Ward =
As evening fell on the city, Takagi Morinosuke hurried towards his sister's house. He noted that there seemed to be more police officers out on patrol that night than usual, which both concerned and reassured him. His hand went to his chest where he kept his brother-in-law's message; as though he could read it through his fingertips, he traced the outline of the paper.
'Your sister may want to reminisce about Wakamatsu. Stay with her for a few days so she is not alone.'
It was short and to the point; 'Wakamatsu' was code for a possible attack since Fujita was forbidden from passing along confidential information to a civilian.
He heard Muku bark as he approached the house, a greeting rather than a warning. He smiled as he saw who opened the gate for him.
"You got here before me," he bobbed his head in an informal bow to his oldest friend, then knelt down to pat Muku who wagged her tail furiously.
"About half an hour ago. I work so close by," Yamakawa Kenjirō said and reset the lock. "I wasn't surprised to get your message. Ani-ue sent me word before you did that he was heading to Tokyo Bay for some training drills, but he clearly meant it as a warning that something was afoot."
"So the Army is on alert for an attack? Did Hiroshi-san say anything else?" Morinosuke glanced back over his shoulder as they made their way up the path to the house, as though to make certain that no one had slipped in behind him.
"No, but he asked if my rifles and pistols were properly maintained." Kenjirō snorted softly; the question need not have been asked for he took special pride in his collection that he had brought back from the United States. "Good thing that I keep them at the University, so I was able to come straight here."
"Well, hopefully we'll have no need of them." Morinosuke's brow knitted with worry. "Thank you for coming over here, when you might be needed at home."
"There are other men at home," Kenjirō referred to the many lodgers from Aizu that the Yamakawa family had taken in. "And my brother isn't the one who's a target."
"That's true enough. And I pity anyone who dares to cross Futaba-san." Morinosuke stepped up into the house, followed by his friend who laughed in response.
"Speak about your own sister! She's perfectly capable of minding this house by herself."
"An Aizu woman knows how to defend her castle," they chimed in unison, mimicking their respective older sisters.
Walking down the corridor, they almost collided with the young boy who was rushing to find them.
"Ah! Morinosuke-san, good evening!" Eiji bowed politely. "Kenjirō-san was just about to show me his Uin – win…"
"Winchester."
"Yeah, the rifle from America!" Eiji's eyes were bright with excitement.
"Careful now, those aren't toys, Eiji-kun." Morinosuke began to frown but it gave way to a small smile. No matter the era, boys would be boys; he recalled how eager he had been when he had been allowed to hold his father's sword, and when Yamamoto Yae and her husband had taught him how to shoot. "Where's Ane-ue?"
"She's in Fujita-san's study." Eiji tugged on Kenjirō's sleeve. "Come now, quickly!"
"Woah, you're going to trip me up!"
Morinosuke watched as the other man was dragged off by the boy, his feelings a mixture of understanding and consternation. It had been less than a month since Eiji had come to live with the Fujitas, and he showed some marked improvement in his moods. Nonetheless, he knew from Tokio that he still suffered from fits of grief and terrible nightmares. The horrors of his young life would not easily be laid to rest, and the most they could do was to provide him with as normal a life as possible. He sighed and shook his head; that was easier said than done in this household.
He opened the door to Fujita's study, having realized why his older sister had not greeted him at the front door. Their eyes met over the edge of a sharp blade, for Tokio was seated at the desk, polishing her naginata.
"Morinosuke," she smiled warmly at him, and giving her weapon a final check, covered the blade. "Thank you for coming, and for calling Kenjirō-san as well. I'm sorry for not opening the door for you, but I've been quite busy since I received Danna-sama's message."
"I'm sure. Though it's not as if these weapons have rusted, I know how carefully you keep them."
Tokio smiled grimly at his words, and at the remembrance of days when she had slept with her naginata at hand.
Morinosuke's gaze moved swiftly over the various swords that were kept in the room. He reached for one that appealed to him over the others, measuring its length and weight as he took it in hand.
"Since Ani-ue has Father's sword now, he won't mind me borrowing one of his." He unsheathed it, the cold steel sharp and strong. "He always had a good eye."
"Kenjirō-san brought his guns too." Tokio sighed. "Although I'm not sure how I feel about Eiji's enthusiasm for them."
"Haha, I was wondering the same myself, but then I remembered how I felt when I was that age too. I was in awe of the older boys and couldn't wait to be old enough to have my own arms."
Tokio drew close and put her hand on his.
"I know, and of course, I believe it necessary for men to be able to defend their own. But still, I would rather that my boys never have need of them." She did not only mean her son and her ward, but her brother and his friend also whom she would always regard as being in her care, no matter how old they were.
Morinosuke bowed his head in reply, acknowledging their unspoken sorrow. They had both witnessed too many die too young; most of his childhood companions had perished during the Battle of Aizu, some by enemy fire and others by their own hand. It troubled her, he knew, every time he took a sword or gun in hand, even though she would never tell him not to fight for what he believed in.
They heard the sound of footsteps approaching and then a knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, Eiji burst in.
"Tokio-san, Tokio-san! Kenjirō-san says he doesn't have to work tomorrow and that he'll show me how to shoot if you say yes! He says that he's a crack shot, that even the Americans were surprised by his skills. Say yes, oh please say yes!" He pleaded breathlessly with his foster mother.
Behind him, Kenjirō appeared looking sheepish, and raised a hand in apology as he saw the flash of rebuke in Tokio's eyes. Training in the martial arts was all well and good, but she considered real guns and steel blades to be too dangerous for a boy his age to be handling.
"Eiji-san," she spoke softly, "I was actually thinking that you might visit Kagekiyo tomorrow, and stay with him for a couple of days. Wouldn't you like that?"
"Oh yes!" The boy's face lit up even more. "I'm sure Kagekiyo-kun would like to join us too, he told me he wants to be a soldier!"
At that, Kenjirō looked aghast; he had sworn an oath to his sister that he would not teach his nephew anything about firearms until he was at least fifteen. He shook his head vigorously behind Eiji's back, and hoped that Tokio would allow him an opportunity to backtrack from this awkward situation.
As Tokio hesitated in her answer, and he became aware of Kenjirō's silent entreaty, Eiji noticed the sword that Morinosuke still held and the naginata that had been taken from its rack on the wall. Looking from one to the other, he asked haltingly,
"Tokio-san, why do you want me to go stay with Kagekiyo-kun?"
Tokio weighed how to answer for a moment. While her husband had not shared any details with her, she had a reasonable inkling as to what the current situation in his operation was. Until now, Shishio Makoto had made no threats against the family, but they had not assumed that it was because he was ignorant of their existence. Rather, for Shishio who operated in stealth and darkness, and who prioritized strategic targets, the Fujitas had been until then beneath his notice. He was not worried about the ability of one policeman to foil his grand plans, and it was not an efficient use of his resources to cause unnecessary trouble in Tokyo where his power was limited. However, all that would change if he directly challenged the government with an outright attack and threw the city into chaos. Then he would seek to destroy all those who opposed him, starting with Fujita Gorō.
"Tokio-san, tell me what's going on please. Why do you want to send me away?" Eiji repeated his question warily; Tokio decided to answer him as honestly as she could.
"I received a message from Danna-sama late this afternoon that we ought to take extra precautions for the next few days at least. He was worried that we might be targeted, although he has done all he can to make sure we are protected. I thought it might be safer for you and Tsutomu to stay somewhere else for a while."
The blood rushed to Eiji's face and his eyes now blazed with fury.
"NO!" He yelled, beating his fists on the side of his thighs. "No! If Shishio's men are going to come after you, I have to stay!"
"Eiji-san, please understand," Tokio bent down before him, "I need to make sure that you and my son will be safe."
"I won't leave!" Eiji cried out. "I have to protect you! I have to protect Tsutomu!" The tears welled up and spilled over. "I wasn't able to save my parents! I wasn't able to help my brother! You must let me stay and help you fight!"
Tokio smiled at him in sympathy, touched by his words, and stroked his head.
"I won't make you go right now," she sighed. In any case, she would not have him leave in the dark; the message had arrived too late for her to have acted earlier. "And I am grateful that you want to protect me and Tsutomu. One day, I'm sure I will rely on you to do so. But for now, you must let me, and Morinosuke and Kenjirō, protect you."
Eiji sobbed, and pleaded again in a harsh whisper.
"Don't make me go away! I don't ever want to lose anyone again!" He was terrified and enraged by what had befallen his family and he was sure that he would rather die than experience that pain again. Rather than running away this time, he felt compelled to stand and fight. He had always wanted to fight, against Senkaku, against Shishio, and despite his better nature, Himura's words and Tokio's guidance, a part of him still desired revenge. "I want to stay with you!"
"My dear boy," Tokio embraced him. "I promised my husband that his family would always be here, awaiting his safe return. I promise you too, that I will protect our home. An Aizu woman knows how to defend her castle, and I am a woman of my word." She pushed him away slightly so as to look him steadily in the eye, and then smiled again. "But with any luck, it will not come to that. This is just a precaution. We can discuss it more tomorrow morning, but for now, let's have dinner and try to enjoy the evening. It will be more fun with these two here!" She looked up at the two men, appealing to them to help calm Eiji's spirits.
"Eiji-kun, come now, I'll tell you the story of how I won a shooting contest in America." Kenjirō patted his shoulder.
"No, I'll tell you the story of how he was careless with some fuses when we were still training and almost set himself on fire. The instructor was so mad that he could have blown us all up, but it was too funny because it burnt a hole right in the seat of his hakama and we could all see his bottom!" Morinosuke chuckled as his friend glared, and Eiji hiccupped trying to suppress a laugh.
Tokio handed him a handkerchief for the boy to dry his eyes and wipe his nose, and then turned him around so he could see that Tsutomu had also come over, clutching Muku's fur as he walked unsteadily, having been drawn by Eiji's cries.
"Ei-ei," he reached out a chubby hand for the older boy. Eiji bent down so that he could climb onto his back.
"Tokio-san," he stood up and faced his foster mother. The anger and fear had not quite left his expression but his voice was gentle. "I promise you too, I am going to learn how to protect you and Tsutomu." He was also resolute, showing strength of character beyond his years; Tokio bowed her head in response.
Watching them head towards the kitchen, reconciled for now, Morinosuke and Kenjirō both sighed in relief.
"He's a good kid," Kenjirō turned to follow them.
"Yes, he is." Morinosuke closed the door of the study behind them, carrying the sword in hand. "I won't be surprised if my sister decides to take him in permanently – and Tsutomu obviously adores him."
"Haha, you mean Tsutomu is happy that he's found another slave to his adorableness." Kenjirō shook his head, knowing how much both parents spoiled their son.
"You're not wrong," Morinosuke grinned, being a doting uncle himself. "I wonder who he takes after more."
"Gah!" Kenjirō shuddered. "I can only imagine if he grows up to be like his father, what a terror that will be!"
Their thoughts turned towards the absent man, who was no doubt putting himself in mortal danger for the sake of his mission. Even as they prayed for his well being and good fortune in battle, they also knew that Fujita Gorō could commit to his work wholeheartedly because he believed in his wife and their friends. The fate of the country hung in the balance, and they would not betray his trust.
= Osaka Bay =
It was past midnight by the time the carriage made it to the harbor; the dread that the three men felt was not due to fear of battle but fear that they would not make it on time. The horses galloped past the warehouses, towards the water's edge, towards the dim shadows of the ships that loomed ahead.
"Which one, Kenshin!? Which one is Shishio's ship?!" Sanosuke's voice was frantic.
"That wooden ship! It's the only one blowing steam ready to depart!" Kenshin was also tense, for the ship was about to leave port.
Saitou ordered the carriage to halt, the driver reining in the dashing horses with some difficulty. Even from a distance, they could tell that they were being observed from the ship as they stood at the edge of the pier. They only had a few moments to decide how to pursue their quarry.
A sea breeze rose to meet them, causing Sanosuke to sneeze.
"Heh, seems like the enemy is surprised by our abilities."
"Ahou."
The young man grinned broadly, shivering now from anticipation.
"Well, they're in for even bigger surprises!"
They had made it – just. Saitou glanced over his shoulders, at the sky above the mountains to the north. It was dark, the full moon was hidden, but the low-lying clouds did not reflect any light. So far at least, Kyoto did not seem to be burning; with all their careful planning, the city would be saved. He turned his attention back to Shishio's ship. Approaching the vessel by boat would make them sitting ducks; although it was early in the season for swimming in the ocean, it was the better option. The thought flitted across his mind that he wanted a cigarette, but he refrained. He could smoke after the battle, after they had stopped Shishio and saved Tokyo.
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Author's Notes:
Season's greetings and best wishes for the New Year!
This chapter has been a long time coming and I'm unsure as to whether it turned out well enough in the end. Graduate school has consumed my life entirely and I must apologize to everyone who has left me reviews or sent me messages since my last update. I just hope this one will meet your standards; as always, I would welcome any comments and criticisms so I can improve it! Errors and inconsistencies, out-of-character portrayals, at this stage I feel so detached from RK fandom that I don't know what I'm doing right or wrong anymore. Still, I'm committed to finishing (considering the last one took eight years) so my undying gratitude as always to all the readers, and especially to those who took the time to encourage me to keep going. I will respond to all the messages very soon.
As I stated at the outset, I began this story to tell things from Saitou's side, but has anyone else wondered what else they talked about during their carriage ride? It's not a short journey! Regarding my feeble attempt at writing about Kenshin, and in particular his feelings for Kaoru, I'm afraid I may have failed miserably. It's a daunting task, knowing how beloved this coupling is.
I hope people are continuing to spread the RK love, with the two movies that were released this year! And yes, I hope people are especially spreading the Saitou love - Eguchi Yosuke is just dreamy! I have only seen "Kyoto Inferno" but I enjoyed it, despite all the changes. I will talk to Eeni about reviving our tumblr site also since I've been absent for so long. Please send Eeni your love as she is also very busy! I will post extended notes for this chapter later on tumblr.
1. First Generation Miyoshi Nagamichi (Aizu Kotetsu) & saijō ō-wazamono: katana are ranked by their sharpness, and saijō ō-wazamono is the highest quality blade forged by the very best swordsmiths. Perhaps the most famous is 'Nagasone Kotetsu', which in RK was what Soujiro used against Kenshin in Shingetsu-mura. Miyoshi Nagamichi was an Aizu swordsmith who was compared to Kotetsu, hence the nickname. Also, it is entirely my own invention that Saitou uses this sword, but I wanted him to have one nice thing! There actually is a reason why I chose this sword, since there is a record that when Matsudaira Katamori's granddaughter was marrying into the Imperial Family, the Fujitas gifted a wakizashi as part of her bridal property (not a dowry).
2. Shinsengumi & money: Um, yes. The Shinsengumi were kinda notorious for drumming up "loans" from merchants and such.
3. Seppuku and kaishaku: Seppuku would be the ritual suicide by disembowelment that samurai were supposed to conduct in order to preserve their honor (also called harakiri, but the kanji are written in reverse). However, since this ritual was horrifically painful, a kaishaku would be appointed to behead the man to cut his suffering short.
4. Gion and Shimabara: the pleasure districts of Kyoto. Readers of CLT will know all about Saitou's exploits, haha.
5. Yamakawa Kenjirō: I wrote about him in the notes for Chapter 1 (see tumblr site) and he makes an appearance in CLT Chapter 31 also, but yes, he is the Yale educated Assistant Professor at Tokyo University, later the first Japanese Professor of Physics and the University President. His gun collection is entirely my invention also, but it arises from his portrayal in NHK's "Yae no Sakura" as a student of Yae's.