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Descent into Madness: Chapter 5

by Conspirator
with fan artwork by Jrnn Doyle (morbid_red@hotmail.com)

Kenshin arrived back at the inn less than an hour after leaving the site of his mission. Had anyone noticed him as he walked back? Had anything happened along the way? It was all a blur to him, for he had concentrated solely on placing one foot in front of the other; the rest of his mind seemed to be blocked off. He entered the inn, and if anyone saw him or said hello, he didn’t notice that, either—he just went straight to his room and slid the shoji closed. He headed for the far corner of the room and slumped down onto the floor.

That’s when he noticed his clothing—his gi and hakama were covered with blood. Now his mind started working again, and he started retching. It was blood, a man’s blood, the blood of the man he had killed. The enormity, the finality of the act he had committed was overwhelming. In a sudden frenzy, he started pulling off his clothes as if they were on fire, throwing them in a heap far away from him. Then he scrambled to find his old clothes and put them on.

It felt comforting to put on his old gi and pants, even though somewhere in his mind he realized that they were, indeed, a bit too small for him. They reminded him of his innocent past, and yes, it was now his past. Somewhere in the turmoil that was his consciousness, he realized that with the act of killing a man, he had made a sudden break with his previous life, that he was no longer a child, and he was no longer innocent. Yes, he had seen death before, he had even seen Hiko kill a man once, when they were attacked on a trip. He had wondered then why Hiko had become so uncharacteristically silent after it happened. Now he knew. Hiko, who had taught him more than he ever wanted to know about so many things, had not taught him about this, about the aftermath of killing a man. It was the eyes, he realized. It was seeing a person’s eyes alive with light and fire and anger one moment, then suddenly seeing the eyes go blank the next, like a lantern whose flame has been snuffed out. Lifeless eyes. He retched again.

He sat this way for he didn’t know how long as his mind came to grips with the night’s events. Finally, as he stared at the heap of bloody clothes, he realized he had to pull himself together. The clothes needed washing; he needed washing. He figured it must be pretty late because he heard very little noise coming from the other rooms, so he silently slid open the shoji and headed for the washroom off the kitchen. He grabbed a bucket, a washboard, and some soap, then headed for the well. In the dark, with only the light of the full moon, he washed the blood out of his clothes, wringing them out with more force than he really needed. The thought that he needed a second pair of hakama, if he was to do this kind of work, wandered through his mind. Then he headed for the bath. He didn’t even bother lighting a fire—he just wanted to get clean and go back to his room and go to sleep.

His sleep, however, was not peaceful. Dreams of death, of the slavers, of the man’s eyes haunted him, causing him to toss and turn and awaken several times before he finally managed to achieve a deep sleep. He didn’t awaken at dawn as he usually did—it wasn’t until he heard the sounds of men going down for breakfast that he finally awoke. He had no appetite, however, and no desire to be around anyone else. He just sat in his room, looking out the window and wondering how men lived with themselves after killing someone.

Okami was somewhat surprised not to find Kenshin in the kitchen—it had only been four days since the boy had arrived, but already she had gotten used to having his company in the early morning hours. She remembered, though, that he had a mission the previous night—his first one—and figured he must have gotten back late and therefore slept late. But when she didn’t see him at breakfast either, she began to worry. No healthy 14-year-old boy would willingly skip breakfast! She had come to feel rather motherly towards him, so she gathered up some leftovers and some tea, and carried it up to his room on a tray.

When she got there, she knocked gently at the door. No answer. She knocked again. "Himura-chan?" she called softly. Still no answer. She decided to quietly open the shoji just a little to see if he was asleep. He was sitting in the far corner, staring out the window. As she called his name a third time, he slowly turned to look at her. His eyes, she noted, lacked their customary sparkle.

"Himura-chan, are you all right?" Okami asked gently.

"Hai," he answered in a monotone. She was not convinced.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" she pressed.

"I’m fine," he answered, as he turned to look out the window again.

"I’ve brought you some breakfast, in case you’re hungry," she said, hoping to rouse him just a little.

"Thanks," he said without looking at her, "but I’m not hungry."

"Well, I’ll just leave it here, in case you change your mind."

There was definitely something wrong. His eyes—what was it she saw in his eyes? Sadness? Grief? Both? Something must have happened, she knew. As she returned to the kitchen to clean up after breakfast, the thought occurred to her that no matter what had happened, what he needed was some company to lighten his mood, and she knew just whom to ask. She quickly finished cleaning up and then headed over to the stable to see if Shozo the stableboy could be spared for a few hours. The two boys seemed to enjoy each other’s company the other day, she reasoned, so who better to cheer Kenshin up?

Less than an hour later, Shozo mounted the stairs to Kenshin’s room and knocked loudly on the door.

"Himura?" he called out. "You in? It’s me, Shozo!"

No answer. He knocked again.

"Hey, Himura, it’s Shozo! Can I come in?" he called again. This time he heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the shoji. The door slid open a bit.

"Shozo?" Kenshin said as he peered out. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, you won’t believe this, but my uncle, Hideko, just gave me most of the day off!" Shozo slid the shoji wide open. "There’s a great breeze outside—it’s perfect kite-flying weather! Come on, you can borrow a kite, and we can have dueling kites!"

Kenshin turned back into the room. "No thanks," he said quietly. "I’m not up to it."

"Ah, come on, Himura, it’s too nice a day to be cooped up inside! I’ve got a great place to fly kites down by the river."

"I don’t think so," Kenshin said as he returned to his corner and stared out the window again. "Anyway, I don’t know how to fly a kite."

"What? You don’t know how to fly a kite? Where have you been all your life?!"

Kenshin couldn’t help smiling just a bit as he answered, "I grew up in a forest on a mountain, remember?" He was finding Shozo’s enthusiasm and good humor to be infectious.

"Well, you can’t go through life without ever flying a kite!" Shozo said with finality. He walked over to Kenshin and grabbed his hand to pull him up. "Come on!"

Kenshin let himself be led towards the door. As they neared it, Shozo caught sight of the breakfast tray Okami had left. "You haven’t eaten yet?" he asked incredulously. "Better do that first!"

Now Kenshin realized that his stomach was empty—in fact, it was grumbling rather loudly—so he pulled out the tray and sat down to eat, offering some of the food to his friend. They polished off the meal, then headed for the stable.

Kenshin had been near horses before, but he really knew nothing about them. In the darkness of the stable, he could make out about 20 stalls and four curious noses peering out. Shozo walked up to the nearest horse and patted its nose.

"Have you ever been in a stable?" Shozo asked. When Kenshin said no, Shozo said gently, "Then you have to pet a horse’s nose. It’s the softest thing you’ll ever feel."

He led Kenshin over to the horse, took his hand, and put it on the horse’s nose. It was, indeed, the softest thing Kenshin had ever felt.

"This one’s called Fearless," Shozo continued. "I think it’s a joke, because she’s scared of just about everything. We use her for carriages and such, although she’s good with a beginner in a saddle." He found a piece of carrot and handed it to Kenshin. "Hold it out—she’ll eat it." He did as he was told, and Fearless gathered up the carrot with her mouth. Kenshin chuckled at the slimy but gentle feel of the horse’s lips. Then, as he turned to follow Shozo, he felt a strong nudge against his back, which sent him tripping forward into his companion. "I think she likes you," Shozo laughed.

They finally got to Shozo’s little room at the back of the stable and gathered up the two kites. Then they walked until they came to the river. The breeze was, indeed, perfect for kite flying, and in no time Shozo had shown Kenshin how to get a kite up and flying. As Kenshin watched his kite swoop and soar, he felt his cares soar away with it. Soon the two boys were running through the grass laughing and shouting as they tried to knock each other’s kites from the sky. When the breeze gave out, they walked along the river, Shozo telling Kenshin all about the horses at the stable and Kenshin showing Shozo how to skip stones across the water. By mid-afternoon, they were both hungry, and Shozo had to get back to help with the horses, so they returned to the stable. Kenshin felt whole again. As he turned to leave, he said, "Thanks, Shozo, for everything."

"For what?" Shozo asked.

"For showing me about horses and teaching me how to fly a kite." Then, after a pause, he added, "And for bringing me back to life."

Shozo just laughed and waved as Kenshin returned to the inn. "Come back tomorrow," Shozo called after him. "Maybe you can try riding one of the horses!"

Kenshin was familiar enough by now with the inn’s kitchen to know where he might find a snack, so he stopped in to grab a bite to eat and then headed back to his room. As he opened the shoji, he saw the gi and hakama drying by the window, reminders of what had transpired the night before. Being with Shozo, however, had worked its magic—he found he was able to push the whole affair to the back of his mind. He felt almost like his old self again. Going down for dinner, however, was another matter. It would be his first time with the men since starting his new job. He vividly remembered what his breakfast companions had said the day before about hitokiri, so when the time came, he decided to find a place to sit by himself.

No sooner had he sat down than Iizuka walked up—about the last person Kenshin wanted to see at the moment, and certainly not who he wanted to share a meal with. Iizuka leaned down and patted Kenshin on the back.

"Good job last night, Himura," he said with a broad smile. "You were cool, collected, and you did a clean job. I’m impressed."

Kenshin said nothing; he just bowed slightly to acknowledge that he heard. He was filled with relief as Iizuka walked away to join his own friends.

Not long after, Yoshida and his friend Sato came to join him.

"Say, Himura, where’ve you been?" Yoshida asked. "Didn’t see you at dinner last night or at breakfast. Were you on a job already?"

"Couldn’t be," Sato broke in. "I think only Hamada and his buddy Oono were out last night, with Iizuka."

Kenshin groaned inwardly. So that was who Iizuka brought with him—those clowns who had dragged him to the Gion district…. After a moment, he answered, "Katsura gave me a job to do by myself." He was afraid to say anything more.

Yoshida gave him an odd look, but then clapped him on the back and said, "So, now you’re official, kid. We’ll drink to that!" and the rest of dinner thankfully consisted of good food and amiable conversation.

After dinner, Kenshin wandered out into the courtyard and sat leaning against a post, thinking about kite flying and about his job. Yoshida followed him out and sat next to him.

"You look thoughtful," Yoshida commented. "Something bothering you?"

Kenshin sighed. He sat quietly, staring at nothing in particular, as he collected his thoughts. Finally, still staring straight ahead, he said, "Yoshida, how did you feel the first time you killed a man?"

Yoshida sat silent for a moment, then said, "The first time, it was a battle, back in Chousu." His eyes took on a faraway look, as if he was seeing it all in his mind’s eye. "This guy came at me, swinging a pike, of all things. I thought I was a gonner, but I swung my sword like I had never swung it before, and suddenly the man was dead. It was him or me—kill or be killed. I think I was sort of stunned. I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t expect to feel it in my arms the way I did when I connected, and I didn’t expect to see a man’s innards spilled out when it was all over. I think I threw up. I don’t throw up anymore, though."

The two sat in silence for awhile. Then Kenshin asked, "What if it wasn’t a battle and he hadn’t attacked you, but he was still the enemy."

Yoshida looked over at him; Kenshin was still staring straight ahead. "I don’t know, kid. Could I kill someone just like that, in cold blood? I don’t know. Why?"

Kenshin turned to look at him with haunted eyes. "Yoshida, remember yesterday when your friend said he heard a rumor that a hitokiri was going to be billeted here permanently? I’m the hitokiri. It’s me. That’s the job Katsura gave me. I started last night."

Kenshin went back to looking straight ahead. He heard Yoshida gasp, and he could feel Yoshida’s eyes staring at him.

"Yoshida, I’m no cold-blooded killer."

"I know that kid, I know that," Yoshida said softly. Under his breath, he muttered, "Kami-sama."

They sat like that for several minutes, both lost in thought. Finally, Yoshida asked, "Was your job last night the first time you killed someone?"

Kenshin shook his head yes.

"You don’t have to be a hitokiri, you know—Katsura could assign you to be a soldier like the rest of us."

Kenshin sighed again. "He told me someone has to deliver what he calls heaven’s justice to those whose very lives stand in the way of bringing the new era we’re fighting for. I told him I’d do it, if it meant that the new era would come that much sooner. I can’t go back on my word."

"Kami-sama," Yoshida muttered again. Then he said, "Himura, you’re a good kid. I like you. You’ve been given about the toughest job there is—I’ve seen it eat a man’s soul. You might as well know right now that most of the men here, when they find out what your job is, will be scared to have anything to do with you. But I’ll stick by you, I promise."

Kenshin turned to look at him again, this time with gratitude. "Thanks," he said simply.

He turned in early that night and, unlike the night before, he slept peacefully. He awoke, as usual, with the sun and went to the kitchen to fetch the firewood and water. It felt comfortable doing these familiar chores; it helped him forget that everything had changed.

When Okami walked in and saw him, she was elated.

"Ah, Himura-chan, I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better!" she said as she went to put her pots on the stove.

"Ohayou, Okami-san," he replied, but Okami noted that his voice did not have quite the cheery ring it had before.

A few minutes later, Kishi and Yuka arrived. When they saw Kenshin, they stopped dead in their tracks. His back was to them, but he could hear frantic whispers going back and forth. Finally, Kishi pushed Yuka toward him. He turned to her and said, "Is there something I can do for you, Yuka-san?"

Yuka seemed frozen to the spot, fear written all over her face. "H-Himura-san, we know who you are," she finally managed to say.

"What?" he asked, totally confused.

Yuka was now in a panic. In a rush of words, she blurted out, "Hamada told us everything—you’re a hitokiri, and we’re both really sorry we annoyed you the other day, and we really didn’t mean anything by it!" Then she ran to the other side of the room.

"Girls, what have I told you about gossiping!" Okami said angrily, ready to chew them out, but Kenshin cut her off.

"It’s not gossip," he said softly. "It’s the truth."

"What?!" Okami could not believe her ears.

"I’ll leave now, if you want," Kenshin said in a barely audible voice.

"Himura-chan, you stay right where you are," Okami said sternly. Then, turning to the girls, she said even more sternly, "Girls, if this is true, Hamada-san had no business telling you. You know we are all sworn to secrecy here, and what Hamada-san told you, if it got beyond these walls, could mean the difference between life and death for Himura-chan, and I will not have it! Do you understand?"

They both nodded solemnly.

"As for you, Himura-chan, I have a few choice words to bestow on our beloved Katsura-san! How dare he ask someone your age to do this kind of work!"

Kenshin was surprised, though somewhat comforted, by her anger. Still, he needed to tell her the truth. "Okami-san," he said, "it’s not his fault. He asked me to bring ‘heaven’s justice’ to enemies of the Ishin Shishi, and I agreed. I can’t go back on my word."

Okami’s expression was a mixture of pain and pride. She nodded in understanding, then handed him some vegetables to chop. "Like I said the other day, I can use all the help I can get in this kitchen. You’ll stay!"

Kenshin went back to chopping vegetables with a somewhat lighter heart.

Shortly before breakfast was to be served, there was a pounding on the door of the inn. It was a runner from another Chousu rooming house. As the men trooped into the dining room to eat, Iizuka and the runner called for attention.

Brandishing the letter and its prominent seal, Iizuka said, "Narahashi here has just come from Miyabe-san with emergency orders. The Bakufu plans today to raid the neighborhoods in Kyoto that are known to have Ishin Shishi sympathies. They’re looking for the men who stormed the munitions warehouse the other night…"—he gave a wicked grin—"…and whoever killed the owner of that warehouse."

The men cheered at the part about the warehouse, but started muttering among themselves about the warehouse owner—they knew they hadn’t killed him. Kenshin, who was sitting with Yoshida and Sato, lowered his gaze. Yoshida noticed. He looked at Kenshin.

"You?" he whispered.

Kenshin nodded imperceptibly.

"Kami-sama!" Yoshida muttered.

"So," Iizuka continued, "we need to make this place look like a normal inn. Anyone in an even-numbered room, pack up your stuff—Okami’ll hide it under the floorboards. The rest of you sign the guest book with fake names. And no uniforms! Bring them down to the kitchen—we’ll hide them in the rice sacks. And all of you, except Himura, will be assigned to small groups to fan out into the neighborhood to protect the residents from the Bakufu soldiers. No fighting or killing if you can avoid it! Himura, you’ll stay here to protect Okami-san and the inn—you can pretend you’re her son or something."

"That’s rich—a hitokiri pretending to be Okami-san’s son!" It was Hamada, a sneer in his voice.

Now the muttering grew louder as the word ‘hitokiri’ sunk in. Kenshin could feel Sato shrink away from him, and he could feel the eyes of the others boring into him.

Iizuka was livid. "Hamada, you’re a god-damned loudmouth," he shouted, sparks flying from his eyes.

"I didn’t mean anything by it…." Hamada stuttered. He knew what this meant—he was going to be shipped off to the hinterlands, if he lived that long.

"That information, need I remind all of you, does not go beyond these walls!" Iizuka added angrily.

The room emptied out quickly as the men ran off to learn their assignments and to empty their rooms. Kenshin, being in an even-numbered room, had very little to gather up, other than his uniform, spare green gi, and an oversized haori for the winter. He decided to wear his hat to hide his red hair. As for his swords, how would Okami explain how her ‘son’ came to own them, let alone know how to use them? He decided to hide them behind the woodpile by the stove. In less than an hour, more than two-dozen uniforms had been stuffed into partially filled rice bags, personal belongings had been hidden under floorboards in the kitchen and the storage shed, and no one would have guessed that the inn had ever had more than eight guests, let alone a large contingent of rebel soldiers. The men took off for their various posts throughout the area, leaving Kenshin, Okami, Kishi, and Yuka alone to await a likely visit from the Bakufu.

The morning dragged on. What Okami really needed to do was some food shopping, but she didn’t dare leave the inn. Kishi and Yuka went to do the wash, but they were so nervous they kept dropping the clean clothes on the ground. Kenshin, meanwhile, had nothing to do all, so he jumped up onto the roof to keep an eye out for anything unusual.

Lunchtime came and went. The waiting was unbearable. Now Kishi and Yuka decided that it was all a huge lark and started giggling and gossiping about their nighttime activities. Kenshin, however, was tense. He could sense hostile ki coming closer and closer. He could sense that there were some small fights—probably not sword fights, he decided, but fights nonetheless—not far away. Finally, around mid-afternoon, he hopped down from the roof and sought out Okami. He still hadn’t seen anything, but he knew they were coming. They had agreed earlier that when the time came, the girls would stay in the kitchen near the door to the outside, Okami would stay near the front desk, and Kenshin would stay in the courtyard. They all took their places.

Less than five minutes later, three soldiers burst through the door of the inn.

"By order of the Shogun, you will allow us to search this inn!" one of the soldiers shouted at Okami as he grabbed her arm and dragged her out the door.

"Why? I’ve done nothing!" she shouted back. She tried to go back inside, but the soldier roughly pushed her away from the door.

The three soldiers started searching around her front desk. When they found the money box, they opened it and started pocketing the money.

"Hey, get away from that!" she yelled.

The soldiers just laughed. One of them pulled out the guest register, counting up the names and finding only eight.

"We know this is a rebel hideout," one of the soldiers said threateningly, now pulling Okami back inside. "You’re coming with us while we search the rooms."

Okami kept protesting that this was a respectable inn and that she had only eight guests, but two of the soldiers pulled her with them anyway. One of them unsheathed his wakizashi for good measure. The third soldier headed for the kitchen.

In the kitchen, meanwhile, Kishi and Yuka had heard the shouting, and now they were scared. They both grabbed pots and held onto them as weapons. As the soldier walked into the kitchen, the girls shrank back as far as they could, brandishing the pots before them. The soldier found this enticing. He glanced around the kitchen, gave a quick look in the storeroom, then walked towards the girls with a menacing gleam in his eye.

"Come here, pretty ones," he said as he suddenly lunged at them, eyes full of lust.

The girls screamed and tried to hit him with the pots, but he just swatted the pots out of their hands as if they were nothing. Then he grabbed Yuka and pushed her against the wall, tearing at her kimono and trying to kiss her. Kishi grabbed another pot and rushed at the man, but he kicked her away. She screamed again.

"Get away from her."

It was a young voice, the soldier could tell, but it was cold as ice. He roughly let go of Yuka and turned, drawing his katana. When he saw who was behind the voice, though, he laughed—a mere boy, and a scrawny one at that. Before Yuka could get away, he grabbed her again.

"I said, get away from her." Kenshin mentally cursed his decision not to wear his swords. He eyed the distance between himself and the woodpile; his swords were too far back to reach. This time the soldier pushed Yuka away. Drawing his sword, he started coming for Kenshin instead. Faster than the eye could see, Kenshin ducked the soldier’s sword, dove for the woodpile, and grabbed a piece of wood. He pivoted and leaped, aiming a blow at the soldier’s head. The wood hitting the man’s skull made a sickening crunch. Kishi, who had stood transfixed throughout the entire ordeal, now screamed again as the soldier fell to the floor, blood streaming from the blow.

Given the fact that they had been warned not to kill, Kenshin was relieved to see that the man was still alive. He turned to Yuka and Kishi and found Yuka shaking and holding her ripped kimono; Kishi was clutching the edge of a table and staring at the blood. He knew there would be trouble over this, but he hoped to lessen the trouble with some good acting.

"Kishi," he said urgently, "go get Okami and the other soldiers, quick!"

Kishi didn’t move—she was in shock.

"Kishi!" Kenshin shouted. He walked over to her and shook her. "Kishi! Listen! You have to go find Okami and the other soldiers!"

He pushed her towards the door. Now Kishi awoke from the trance she was in and ran down the hall. Next he went to Yuka, who was still shaking.

"Yuka," he said softly as he gently touched her arm, "it’s okay now. You’re safe."

Yuka looked at him, then looked at the soldier on the floor, then looked back at him again. "H-how did you do that?" she whispered.

Within seconds, the two other soldiers, Okami, and a breathless and crying Kishi burst into the kitchen to the sight of a bleeding soldier sprawled on the floor. Yuka was still clutching her torn kimono. Kenshin was now hiding behind her as if he was scared.

"What’s going on here?" the soldiers demanded.

Kenshin answered in as much of a little-boy voice as he could. "I was in the courtyard getting some water," he said in a wavery voice, "when I heard screaming, and I saw this man try to rip her clothes off her, and he wouldn’t stop, so I threw a piece of wood at him! I didn’t mean to hurt him—I just wanted him to stop!"

Okami gave Kenshin a strange look but decided to play along. "Toya-chan, you poor boy—you’re shaking!" Turning to the soldiers, she cried angrily, "Look what your men have done! They’ve almost raped my serving girl and traumatized my son. Get out! You’ve found nothing! Get out!"

The two soldiers started dragging their comrade out of the kitchen with Okami behind them, yelling at the top of her lungs. As the soldiers left, she saw another soldier walking towards the inn who appeared to be their superior. Grabbing him by his gi, she yelled, "This is what I get for running a respectable establishment? Your men terrorize me and try to rape my help? Do you realize that relatives of Abe Masahiro himself once stayed here? How dare you!"

At the mention of Abe Masahiro, one of the Shogun’s top advisors, the soldiers started apologizing, and the one who had taken her money hurriedly gave it back to her. They left as quickly as they could, dragging their still unconscious companion with them.

Okami quickly returned to the kitchen and took the sobbing Yuka back to her room, leaving Kenshin and Kishi to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Kenshin could feel Kishi staring at him, but this time it was with respect. By the time the men from the inn returned about an hour later, everything was back to normal.

At dinner, the men reported to Iizuka on what had happened in the areas they had patrolled. It had been a successful deployment—in nearly every case, their presence had prevented the kind of violence that had happened at their own inn, yet the Bakufu soldiers had no idea that the men who had thwarted them were, in reality, rebels themselves. Kenshin did not include the kitchen incident in his own report, but the story clearly had gotten around. As he was leaving the dining room, men he barely knew stopped him to say, "Good job."

It had been a long and tiring day, and he was more than ready to go to bed. Before he could, however, Iizuka pulled him aside and handed him a black envelope.

"It’s another job, for tonight," Iizuka said casually.

Kenshin took the envelope and opened it. Once again, there was a name and a place.

"He’s the chief of supplies for the Kyoto Bakufu forces," Iizuka said. "He used to have quite a reputation with a sword, but he’s an old man now. He tends to work late, so any time tonight will be fine." Then he walked off, leaving Kenshin alone to contemplate the meaning of ‘heaven’s justice.’