Author's note: I know it has been a while since I last posted. The pressure of work was rather difficult to overcome. However, I have finished drafting a rather large number of chapters that I will be posting very soon.
Chapter Note: This chapter has touches of history.
I think the characters of Kenshin and Tomoe are so complex, that without understanding the history, it is not possible to do them justice. It is not that the Bakufu side was in the wrong and the revolutionaries were in the right; it's not the other way around either. The way the Ishin Shishi conducted the revolution had a lot to do with violence.
The way they maintained control over Kyoto, a place they needed to keep under control to exert power over the imperial court, was mostly through instilling fear.
In the quarters of the Okiya where I find myself with Katsura-san and Katagai-san, a markedly distinct air pervades, unlike that which enveloped me a mere half-hour prior. That earlier room, awash with a jubilant spirit to such a degree that it seemed the strain of two days past had utterly vanished, supplanted instead by a yearning for the company of geishas and an insatiable thirst for sake.
Yet, this chamber harbors an atmosphere altogether different, a mood unaltered since the day Nakamura-san paid us a visit. In the dim light, the illumination tracing the contours of Katsura-san's face reveals the weight of his concerns.
For several moments, I have lingered in anticipation of his words, and I have come to understand that whatever he must convey, and whatever thoughts he is painstakingly arranging in his mind to express, must hold significant weight. It is not in the nature of this man to be unduly troubled by trifles.
"Himura," I hear his voice softly breaking the silence.
"While you are staying in Ikedaya with Nakamura-san, there is something that you must do."
In silence, I allow his words to fill the air, my ears keen on what is yet to unfold.
He carries on, weaving his thoughts into the quiet between us,
"The Bakufu has been highly active in trying to sniff out the locations of our weaponries."
"There is a man that I want you to meet."
With those words hanging between us, he glances towards Katagai-san, his voice steady,
"Bring in Furutaka-san."
With a gesture, Katagai-san rises and swiftly departs through the door. I discern his footsteps fading into the distance, then gradually drawing nearer again, accompanied this time by another individual.
A towering figure, aged, not a swordsman. His footfalls echo too loudly, as I perceive from their sound.
In time, the shoji door glides open, admitting Katagai-san back into the room alongside an unfamiliar middle-aged man.
The man steps inside, bowing to both Katsura-san and myself. I sense his wariness toward my presence.
He must recognize me as Battousai. There's no other explanation for a middle-aged man to be wary of one half his age and size.
Katagai-san casts a glance at me and speaks,
"Himura, meet Furutaka-san, though no one knows that name. He is better known as Masuya Kiemon."
Completing the introduction, Katsura-san adds,
"Furutaka-san has been playing a crucial role for the Ishin Shishi."
While his gaze remains fixed upon me, he proceeds,
"Masuya Kiemon is a merchant who owns a fabric shop in the heart of Kyoto. He is one of the main suppliers of kimonos to the Okiyas in Hanamachi."
"But," he pauses,
"That is merely a facade and also a method for us to gather funds. In truth, considering the scale of such a business, it necessitates a sizable warehouse and accommodations for employees. We are concealing one of our most crucial assets - a weapon reserve in the heart of Kyoto."
I concentrate intently on him, ensuring every detail of his words is absorbed, for what I am about to hear will shape the destiny of our cause.
"Are there Bakufu agents on our trail because of this?" I inquire, awaiting his response.
"Himura," he says, his expression tightening slightly, and the arches of his eyebrows rising to convey an emotion not easily visible on his countenance.
Anger.
"They have detected some of our warehouses on the outskirts of Kyoto."
"And they are fervently searching for more."
"It's only a matter of time before they realize that the weapon reserves scattered around the outskirts of Kyoto are nothing but a fraction of the true reserves." Taking a sip of tea, he continues,
"The only fortunate aspect is that it appears to be only the Mimawarigumi trailing us now, and I believe they aim to maintain it this way to somehow improve their standing with the Military Governor of Kyoto - Matsudaira Katamori." As he concludes his statement, I notice a slight distraction in his demeanor, perhaps as he organizes his thoughts internally. I realize the urgency of the situation; Katsura-san must have summoned me here with great haste.
After drifting within his own contemplations for a few moments more, he turns his gaze towards me once more and utters,
"With the retainers of Choshuu being paranoid over the control of Kyoto because of Matsudaira Katamori and his dogs, the Shinsengumi, it is of utmost importance that we gain a stronger strategic control of Kyoto."
"The weapon reserve that is under Furutaka-san's control, we must load it with more gunpowder."
"Nakamura-san has proposed that we move gunpowders that we have stored in some of the outskirts to Furutaka-san's warehouse."
I linger, anticipating his next words, and eventually inquire,
"And what is it that you want me to do?"
As I voice my query, the grumbles of Katagai-san concerning my demeanor reach my ears once more.
"Himura, for the ensuing three days, I need your protection over Nakamura-san and Furutaka-san."
"Nakamura-san intends to leave for Hagi after three days and he desires the completion of the gunpowder transfer to Furutaka-san's custody."
"And..." He pauses briefly before resuming,
"After three days..." With these words, he retrieves a black envelope, sliding it in my direction, and adds,
"These individuals must be dealt with."
I cast my gaze downward towards the black envelope, then meet his eyes once more. With a slight nod, I signal my accord.
The preceding days have unfolded as a journey, spiraling into the abyss of lunacy. The air, thick with the scent of gunpowder mingled with blood, carried a whiff of Hakubaiko—a fragrance most alien in such a setting.
The task of shifting the gunpowder, for those aligned with the Ishin Shishi, proved a task of little challenge. Alas, fifteen souls of the Mimawarigumi's youthful officers were extinguished, their efforts rendered futile. A twist of fate had placed them on the opposing end of the revolution, a twist of fate had them confront me.
As the lives of these young Mimawarigumi were claimed before their visages could betray any emotion, the faces of Nakamura-san and Furutaka-san grew increasingly ashen.
In their presence, I asked, "Is something wrong?"
It was then I observed Furutaka-san, wrestling with his own saliva, while Nakamura-san began to articulate,
"Till now I have only heard people call you both a 'god' and a 'demon'"
"Seeing it with mine own eyes..."
"You are an adversary I'd not wish upon even my gravest enemy."
Upon the conclusion of his utterance, I was struck by the multitude of labels ascribed to me, each stirring an irritation deep within.
"'God' and a 'demon'? To be both? Absurd," I noted, my voice dripping with a scorn I could scarcely mask.
At my words, Nakamura-san let out a soft chuckle before posing his question,
"Himura, what, in your eyes, distinguishes a god from a demon?"
I afforded him my full attention, awaiting the continuation of his thoughts.
He proceeded to voice out,
"A demon would be considered a God if he was on our side and a god would be considered a demon if he was against us."
To which I offered a quiet, "Is that so," yet within me, no stirrings of sentiment made themselves known.
In these moments, as the act of taking lives has woven itself into my routine, I've come to notice a subtle shift within. A whisper, ever gentle and probing, accompanies me.
"Are you going to kill again?"
At times, it morphs into,
"You are making it rain blood again, aren't you?"
Or it questions,
"How long will you keep on killing?"
And occasionally it inquires,
"Will you kill me too?"
Each instance this murmur reaches my ears, I fight against the overwhelming impulse to look over my shoulder, half-expecting to find her presence.
And find that, sometimes, I even catch myself replying to this ethereal voice.
"Yes, I will kill again."
"Yes, I will kill as much as it takes, as long as it takes, for a place where the weak won't have to beg anyone for mercy just to survive."
And with those words, the voice fades away.
Time flows as a quiet stream, and with it, the shifting of gunpowder to the warehouse under Furutaka-san's watchful eye persists. Now, as the moments convene, we find ourselves on the verge of concluding this act. The task at hand is to dissolve the remnants of the Mimawarigumi who have knowledge of the weapon's den. Yet, it's understood, the void left by their absence will hardly drain the pool of those privy to such knowledge within the Mimawarigumi.
However, the essence of this "cleaning" lies not in the act itself, but in the message it sends—a stern warning that any who dare obstruct our path will be excised with ruthless precision.
Meanwhile, Nakamura-san has taken his leave for Hagi.
Beneath the shadowed veil of night, my feet sense the chill of a deep pool of blood. Hidden within my sleeves, a black envelope that ushered the eternal slumber upon these souls now sprawled before me, once vibrant with life, now as devoid of it as any inanimate object within these walls. There was a time when my heart harbored wishes of joy for those whose lives I had extinguished. Yet, such times are but distant memories, remnants of a past where my hands knew not the stain of blood.
In silence, I stand, an observer to the grief my darkness has woven around these souls. They appear as mere puppets, tools of a bygone regime, doomed to uphold a misguided cause. With prolonged gaze, their humanity flickers into view, urging me to divert my gaze, to leave their presence.
Following in my shadow, as ever, is Iizuka-san, tasked with the aftermath of my actions. The specifics of his duties remain unknown to me.
With Nakamura-san's exit marking the close of my chapter at Ikedaya, my path now leads to Kohagiya. My steps grow leaden; a part of me yearns for pause, and indeed, I find myself halted. Were it not for the call of Iizuka-san, I might have remained thus frozen.
"Himura," he beckons.
"You're bound for Kohagiya, aren't you?" His words, like an echo of my own turmoil, catch me unprepared.
Am I to go to Kohagiya?
"Yes," slips from my lips, an answer to both him and myself, as I resume my journey.
The notion of flight, of forsaking my path to Kohagiya, is a tempting one, yet I am bound by an unnamed dread. Is it fear that she, too, will mirror the terror of those fallen by my blade? That her gaze might one day view me as the monster I've become, or that I might be compelled to extend this curse to her as well?
Uncertainty clouds my thoughts, yet this much is clear: never have I felt such conflicting desires - to both yearn for someone's presence and simultaneously dread the very thought of encountering them.