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Descent into Madness: Chapter 6

by Conspirator

A black envelope. Heaven’s justice. Kenshin stood, holding the black envelope in stunned silence. So soon? He was asked to kill again so soon? He walked to his room in a daze, thoughts whirling through his mind. Only two nights ago he had killed a man. He hadn’t been prepared for the range of emotions he had experienced after the fact. There had been the excitement of the preparation and completion of his task, there was no denying that, but that had been followed by a sadness and grief that had shaken him to his very core. It was the finality of the act that had done it, the fact that once done, there was no way to change the outcome. He realized that he had also experienced a strange kind of fear—the fear of holding, in his own hands, the most awesome power a man could hold, the power of life and death itself. It had shaken him so much he had seriously wondered if he could ever kill again. But now he was angry. The events at the inn that afternoon had made his blood boil, and he cursed the brutality and oppression of the Bakufu government. There was no question—the mission would be completed.

He tightly clutched the black envelope, practically crushing it in his grip. There would be no time to clear his mind with his kata as he had before—only time to center himself as best he could and then carry out his mission. He quickly changed from his old clothes into his uniform. Those hakama-tying practices had come in handy, he thought ruefully. He placed his swords in his belt and then headed out the door. He heard Yoshida say something to him as he swept by, but he wasn’t quite listening. His face was set, his mouth was grim, and his eyes were narrowed and glowing a strange amber color. He was focused solely on the name and place contained in the black envelope. If Yoshida hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that this was an entirely different person from the boy he knew.

The address in the envelope was on one of the streets he had walked with Shozo, a street near the imperial district that boasted many large homes of wealthy samurai. Although he knew exactly where the street was, he decided it would be wise to keep to the shadows to avoid being seen. When he finally reached the address, he hid in an alleyway across the street in order to assess his target. The house stood behind a huge, long wall that contained a small gate facing the street. He cast his senses to detect hostile ki and determined that there was a single guard behind the gate and several others nearby.

He decided to go around the wall to the back of the compound, where he leaped up to the top. There he flattened himself and scanned the area. He seemed to be at the far end of the most beautiful garden he had ever seen. Sensing no one in the area, he lightly jumped down, landing without a sound. Before him were a small cherry tree and plum tree that defined one end of a lovely pond of koi. Tucked in here and there along the length of the pond were small areas of irises and fall-flowering asters. Between the pond and the house was a sandy area that had been raked in a lovely swirling pattern, ending in a low hedge of small azalea bushes. No way he could enter the house from that direction—his footprints would be clearly seen in the sand.

He decided to follow the wall to his left and skirt the side of the pond. As he did so, he was able to see the guard at the front gate; the man seemed to be dozing off. As he went further along the wall, he was able to get a look at the front of the house; there were three guards there, talking quietly. He decided to go back the way he came and follow along the wall to the right of the pond. As he did, he cast his senses into the house and determined that in this rear area, there seemed to be two women asleep. Mother and wife? Wife and daughter? Hard to tell, but they were of no consequence. Further into the house, however, he could sense the ki of a man, and although he wouldn’t quite call it the ki of a warrior, it did seem to be the ki of someone with a warrior’s spirit. ‘That must be him,’ Kenshin thought. There seemed to be no one else inside the house.

As he continued along this expanse of wall, he saw what looked like a kitchen door. This side of the house was shielded by arbors of wisteria, which provided a good cover, so he quickly and quietly ran from the wall to the doorway and entered the house. As he made his way into the main hallway, he cast his senses about to find his target’s location. He quietly inched his way along the hall, following it around a corner until he came near the front of the house. Finally, he stopped at an open doorway, through which he could see a man, perhaps in his late ‘50s, poring over a pile of papers and busily writing as he did so. The man was so absorbed in his work that he did not see or hear Kenshin slip into the room. Kenshin crouched low, steeling himself for what was to come as he watched the man do his work. Finally, he stood and said, in a soft voice, "Fujiwara Asahiro, I have come to bring Heaven’s Justice."

The man looked up, startled. He bolted out of his chair, drawing his sword and shouting, "You Ishin scum, how dare….!" but he wasn’t fast enough. All he saw was a blur of blue and red hurtling toward him. Before he could even finish his sentence, Kenshin was upon him. The room’s ceiling was low, not giving Kenshin enough room for anything but a good, lateral stroke, and so Kenshin swung laterally with all his might, beheading the man in mid-word.

The man’s shouts had reached the guards, however, and Kenshin heard them yelling and running in his direction. Quickly, he pulled out the note declaring "Heaven’s Justice" and dropped it on the desk. Then he headed for the open window and jumped through, landing not far from the front door of the house. He quickly noted that not only had the three guards from the front door gone inside, but the guard at the gate was also running in. Once that last guard was through the front door, Kenshin quickly ran the distance from the house to the gate, then calmly opened the latch and walked out onto the street.

Now the sound of women’s voices reached his ears, wailing and crying in grief. The sound seemed to burn itself into his mind, but he had no time to think about that now, for he could sense the guards running for the gate and the street. The alleys! He needed to head for the alleys! That walk with Shozo, when he had explored the maze of alleys in this area, was going to come in handy already. As he was about to veer off, however, he sensed a somewhat familiar ki. Looking to his right, he saw a blue-clad figure in the shadows. It was Iizuka. Kenshin nodded to him and signaled that he had completed the job successfully. Then he headed down an alley to the left to elude the guards. He followed the maze as he remembered it, finally jumping with cat-like stealth to a rooftop to see if his pursuers had managed to stay with him. They hadn’t—they had taken a wrong turn and ended up in one of the numerous dead ends. When it was clear that they had finally given up their chase, he jumped down, followed a series of alleys back to the main road, and walked home undetected to the inn.

This time, upon reaching the inn, he immediately headed for the kitchen and grabbed a bucket of water to wash his hands and face. His mind had been so totally focused on his mission that, until this moment, he had thought of nothing but the actions necessary for the task. Now, however, the shock of cold water hitting his face seemed to unlock the rest of his consciousness. The sound of the women’s anguished cries—he couldn’t get it out of his mind. The vision of the man standing to confront him, only to suddenly crumble, headless—he couldn’t stop seeing it in his mind’s eye. ‘He was the enemy,’ Kenshin told himself, but somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice said, ‘It was a human life.’

He walked up to his room, his body now shaking as the full impact of what he had done hit him. He sat down in the far corner, as he had the first time, as his mind tried to come to terms with what had happened. He noted idly that this time, at least, he had not gotten his clothes dirty. And Yoshida was right—he may have retched the first time, but this time he did not feel nauseous. But that sound, the sound of the women crying—why couldn’t he block it from his mind? That man was the enemy! But that man was also someone’s father, husband, son, wasn’t he? The realization slowly sank in that he, Kenshin, had just taken the life of someone who, despite everything, had been loved and depended upon by people who were totally blameless in the political affairs of the country. He was dog-tired—it had been a very, very long day—yet when he closed his eyes, sleep eluded him. Wailing, crying, blood, headless bodies, they all conspired to keep him from getting the sleep he desperately needed. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he managed to drift off into a fitful rest. He did not wake up until well after breakfast.

Okami must have guessed that he had been on a mission, for when he awoke, he found a tray with breakfast sitting in his room beside the door. This time he ate with relish—he was very hungry—but it was almost as if someone else was hungry, not himself. Inside, he felt hollow, as if a part of him had been torn out. Not knowing what else to do, he decided to go out to the meadow on the outskirts of town and practice his kata, the one thing he knew could make him feel at peace. He changed out of his uniform and put on his old clothes, just as he had done that first time, then picked up the breakfast tray to return it to the kitchen. Maybe it was his imagination, but were his old clothes feeling even smaller than they had yesterday? He really needed to buy that extra hakama!

Okami was still in the kitchen, washing dishes with Kishi. Kenshin placed the breakfast tray on the dry sink and said, "Thanks for leaving breakfast for me. I didn’t have time last night to ask if you would."

Okami noted the sadness in Kenshin’s eyes that she had seen after his first mission, but she smiled brightly anyway and said, "That’s ok. I figured you must have had another mission last night, and I wouldn’t want you to starve! Anyway, Yuka specifically asked me to make up a tray for you when she didn’t see you at breakfast. She’s very grateful for what you did yesterday, saving her from that Bakufu soldier."

Then she led Kenshin over to the other side of the room so Kishi couldn’t hear what she was saying.

"Yuka and Kishi told me how you saved Yuka from that soldier yesterday," she said in a low voice. "They told me they couldn’t believe—forgive me for saying this!—that someone so young and small could do what you did. Yuka’s still shaken up over everything—I gave her the morning off—but I think it’s affected Kishi the most. She said she was truly sorry she ever teased you, and she said she told that idiot Hamada that if he ever made any more comments about you, she would personally see to it that no man here would ever talk to him again. Considering she’s had relations with probably every man at this inn, she could probably do it, too! And she said not to worry, she will never tell a soul about you or your job."

His job. His face clouded over as a vision of the headless samurai flashed through his mind.

"Are you all right, Himura-chan?" asked a worried Okami.

"Hai, hai," he answered as he tried to put a smile on his face. "It’s just that I’m still a bit tense from everything that’s happened. I’m going out to the countryside, in fact, to practice my kata. That should relax me."

"Well, you take care of yourself," Okami said, and she watched as he turned and left the inn.

He put on his hat as he headed for the street that would lead him out of town, but despite the fact that the hat hid his red hair, he still felt like people were staring at him. Whenever he heard the sound of someone running, he found himself grabbing the hilt of his sword. He knew the guards from last night couldn’t possibly be after him now and couldn’t possibly know what he looked like, but he remained jumpy all the same. ‘What’s the matter with me?’ he wondered. He really needed this practice session!

It was with great relief, therefore, that he finally reached that peaceful expanse of meadow and trees. He walked out into grass and gazed at the mountains in the distance, feeling a small twinge of homesickness for the secluded cabin he had shared with Hiko. With his eyes on the mountains, he began his kata, feeling a sense of peace and harmony return as he went through the first, slow movements. As he progressed through each succeeding level, he enjoyed the familiar rush he always felt as he executed the dance of leaps and thrusts that were the hallmark of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. He finished feeling refreshed in mind and body—almost. If only there hadn’t been that physical memory in his arms, during certain moves, of the feeling of steel cutting through flesh and bone….

He went to sit under a tree, gazing up once again at the yellows, reds, and oranges of the changing leaves, and thought about the preparations for winter Hiko would be making right about now. ‘Hiko must be cursing me out,’ Kenshin thought with a smile, ‘now that he has to bring in a winter’s worth of wood all by himself!’ Then he thought back to the arguments that had led to his leaving. He had wanted to fulfill the philosophy of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu by protecting the weak from the cruelty of the age, and now he had actually done so, by saving Yuka from that Bakufu soldier. It was a good feeling. As for his job, Katsura was right. It was, indeed, very difficult to take a human life—he might never get used to it—but surely there couldn’t be that many people whose very existence threatened the coming of the new era. His missions, he was sure, would be over in a matter of weeks. He would just have to hold himself together until then.

Thus reassured, he got up and decided to visit Shozo at the stable. His visit there two days ago, when he was recovering from the shock of his first mission, had made the world seem like a good place again. It only took about 20 minutes to get there, and, thankfully, the sound of running feet no longer made him jump. When he arrived, he stuck his head in the door, searching the dark interior for any sign of his friend. He found him towards the back, bucket and rake in hand.

"Hey, Himura—nice hat!" Shozo called out when he saw Kenshin walk down the aisle between the stalls. "You’re just in time to help me finish mucking out the place!"

Mucking out? From the pungent contents of the bucket in Shozo’s hand, he had a guess what that meant. He was about to say something when Shozo planted another rake in his hands. "There’s a pair of boots in the corner—‘ya don’t want to get this stuff on your tabi!" Shozo said with a smile.

Not wanting to appear rude, Kenshin meekly did as he was told and donned the boots.

"I’m glad you came today," Shozo went on. "After I finish cleaning out the stalls, I get to exercise the horses out in the yard, and you can help. You want to try riding one?"

Kenshin had never ridden a horse before. "I’m not sure that’s such a good idea," he said hesitantly. "I don’t know the first thing about it."

"Not to worry!" Shozo laughed. "I’ll put you on Fearless—she wouldn’t hurt a fly."

With that, the two put their backs into raking out the stalls, Shozo chattering away about the horses and the Bakufu soldiers who had intruded the day before.

"Those guys almost got themselves killed in here," Shozo was saying. "Talk about horse sense! Anyone who knows anything knows that a horse can sense what a person is thinking, and these guys were practically wearing their hatred on their shirts! Even Fearless started bucking and biting, and that black horse over there..." —he pointed to a beautiful, sleek stallion in a stall far from the others— "…he’s a samurai’s horse, a battle horse, and he just about killed one of the soldiers when he reared and tried to smash the guy with his front hooves! Can’t imagine what they expected to find out here."

"You mean a horse can sense ki?" Kenshin asked.

"Ki? You mean what a person’s like?" Shozo asked. "Yeah, they can, and a good horse trainer can sense the horse’s ki as well. I know I can, at least."

This intrigued Kenshin, so he cast out his senses to see if he could read horse ki. Nothing. He closed his eyes and concentrated with all his might, but all he caught was Shozo’s somewhat unformed ki and a sort of hazy impression of something potentially dangerous. The stallion? Perhaps so. "I’ve been taught to sense a person’s ki," Kenshin finally said, "but I can’t seem to sense anything from the horses—at least nothing I could put my finger on."

"Yeah, well, it takes practice, I guess," Shozo laughed, "or maybe just being around horses so much that you can guess what’s on their mind. Hideko says I’m really good at it."

With the two of them working, it didn’t take long to finish cleaning the stalls, so Shozo went to get a saddle and got Fearless ready for some exercise. Fearless seemed to remember Kenshin and nosed him, hoping for a treat. Shozo chuckled and handed Kenshin a piece of carrot for the horse. Then they went outside to the exercise ring. He showed Kenshin how to get into the saddle and helped him up. It was a strange feeling sitting that high off the ground on an animal with a mind of its own.

"What do I do now?" asked a nervous Kenshin.

"Just take up the reins like so, give a little kick with your heel, and Fearless will do the rest," Shozo said.

Kenshin did as he was told and, wonder of wonders, Fearless started walking around the ring.

"Kick her again, and she’ll go a little faster," Shozo said.

Kenshin once again did as he was told, and sure enough, Fearless started trotting. He found the bouncing rather uncomfortable, however, so he said to the horse, "Stop, please." Fearless kept on trotting. He asked again, but the horse just kept on trotting. "How do you stop this thing!" he finally asked in exasperation.

Shozo was laughing at the sight of his friend asking a horse politely to stop. "Just pull back on the reins!" He went over to help Kenshin down. "You need riding lessons, if you’re going to be a samurai!"

"I don’t know about that," Kenshin replied, rubbing his posterior. "Maybe I’ll just stay a foot soldier or something!"

At that moment, they heard the sound of a bell coming from the main house. "Lunchtime!" Shozo announced. "Say, why don’t you come with me—I can introduce you to my aunt and uncle."

"Are you sure?" Kenshin asked. "It’s not far to the inn…."

"Don’t worry, Emi and Hideko are really nice—they’ll like you." And with that, he led Kenshin to the house and introduced him. As predicted, he was invited to stay for lunch.

"Hideko’s my father’s brother," Shozo explained while they were eating. "See, my mother died when I was a baby, and my father was killed in a battle with another clan when I was seven…."

"I thought your father wasn’t samurai," Kenshin broke in.

"He wasn’t—he was a stable master for the Mori family," Shozo explained. "He was behind the lines with the horses when the rear was suddenly attacked. My father was teaching me to be a horse master, too, so when he died, I was sent here to my uncle. He’s a horse trainer, just like my father, and he says I’ve got my father’s talent. He says maybe next year, when I’m 13, he’ll let me train horses all by myself!"

Kenshin saw Shozo’s aunt, Emi, smile with pride. Shozo certainly had a different life from his own, he thought—training horses, a home life, even if it wasn’t with his own father and mother. It was a life where Shozo could expect to find happiness. Not that Kenshin was jealous or regretted his own life with Hiko. Hiko had taught him to be strong and independent, and he fully enjoyed the practice of kenjutsu, but it was the life of a warrior, and he had his doubts about whether happiness of that sort would ever be part of it. Shozo’s chattering, however, broke into his thoughts.

"Say, did you hear about the murder last night?" Shozo was saying in a conspiratorial tone. "We heard that someone killed one of the Shogun’s main guys in Kyoto, Fujiwara Asahiro!"

Kenshin’s head shot up. "What?!"

"Fujiwara Asahiro, one of the Shogun’s top men. Hideko heard about it from our feed supplier this morning, and boy was that guy happy! He told my uncle that Fujiwara had been bleeding the merchants dry for years, forcing them to sell way below cost to the Bakufu, and that maybe now they could negotiate a fairer price."

‘Murder. He called what I did "murder,"’ Kenshin thought. He shifted uncomfortably as he sat.

"What’s the matter?" Shozo asked as he noticed Kenshin’s discomfort.

"Oh, nothing," Kenshin said. "It’s just that…, well…, but you say he was making the merchants sell at an unfair price?"

"Oh, yeah, apparently for years!" Shozo answered. Then, in practically a whisper, he added, "There’s a reason why so many of us hate the Shogunate, you know."

A reason—there was a reason. The man had, indeed, been a person whose very existence threatened the coming of the new era. Was it really murder?

"I really should be going," Kenshin said suddenly, not wanting to pursue this line of thought any longer. "Thank you for the meal, Emi-san. And thanks, Shozo, for letting me ride the horse."

"Hey, so soon?" Shozo said with disappointment. "You could help me with the other horses, you know. Come on, stay a little longer," and he grabbed Kenshin by the arm, leading him outside and back to the stable.

Kenshin ended up staying most of the afternoon, watching Shozo exercise the horses and even daring to walk a horse around the ring himself. Eventually, as the sun started nearing the western horizon, he took his leave. He did want to make a quick stop at the seamstress’s shop to order a new pair of hakama. At Shozo’s urging, he promised to come back when he could.

Once again, Shozo’s company had put him in a good mood, until he sensed a somewhat familiar, strong ki. He tensed and looked around, but relaxed when he saw that it was only Iizuka.

"Hey, Himura!" Iizuka called out cheerily. He strode over quickly to join Kenshin. Then, bending down so he could talk in his ear, he said, "Another good job last night—very elegant. I wondered what you’d do about those guards. Most guys would’ve just gone in swinging and killed the whole lot, but you! You figured out a way just to get our man! Impressive!"

Kenshin didn’t know how to respond; in fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted to respond. Finally, he said, "I did the job I was assigned, that’s all."

"Yeah, well, don’t be too modest or anything! Say, want to go get some sake with me?"

"No, thanks," Kenshin said, somewhat startled that the older man would invite him to drink with him. "I have to visit the seamstress’s shop yet before she closes."

Iizuka looked him over and wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, I can tell you need something new—your pants are too short, and you smell like you’ve been sleeping with horses!" He laughed heartily as he waved and walked away.

Kenshin now hurried back to the inn, thinking that all the world would shy away from him just because of the smell. He quickly changed into his hakama and the green gi the seamstress’s son had outgrown. Then he checked his money. It looked like his winnings from gambling with Hamada and Oono the other night were enough to cover the cost of what he needed. With that taken care of, he headed for the seamstress’s shop.

It was almost closing time when he got there. There was Junko, the "evil woman," as Okami had called her, looking as unpleasant as she had when he first met her.

"Why, it’s the red-headed shrimp! Come in, come in!" Junko cackled as she saw who her customer was. "Nice green gi—haven’t I seen that somewhere before, on someone taller?"

Kenshin winced, thinking he’d rather be anywhere than here right now. He bowed low, deciding to deflect her comments with extreme politeness. He even toyed with calling her ‘-dono,’ but decided that might be going too far. "Junko-san," he finally said, "I would like to purchase another hakama. I have brought the money with me, so I can pay you now. How long will it take for you to make?"

"Oh, I can give it to you right away!" she laughed, sounding like pebbles being thrown against a washboard. "When I made that first pair, I said to myself, ‘That’s the smallest hakama I’ve ever had to make,’ so I made a second pair just for the fun of it! And I knew you’d be back—no one wears just one!" She sat back and crossed her arms, a satisfied smile plastered over her face.

Kenshin gritted his teeth to prevent himself from saying something unkind. He finally managed to say, "Then I shall pay you now and take the hakama with me. Thank you."

"Oh, you don’t have to thank me," she laughed again. "If you hadn’t bought it, I would have sold it as doll’s clothes—hah!"

That did it. Kenshin slapped the money down on the table and glared at her while she went to fetch the hakama and wrap it in paper. He took the package, bowed, and left without saying another word. Junko’s screeching laughter followed him out into the street. ‘Nasty old biddy,’ he thought darkly. He stormed back to the inn, kicking himself mentally for allowing the old crone to get to him like that, but he couldn’t help it.

The men were just starting to head to the dining room for dinner when he arrived, so he quickly took the steps by twos, dumped his package in his room, and ran back down to join the others. He walked in, looking for a place to sit, and saw Yoshida at the far side of the room, waving him over. Yoshida was sitting with Sato and Tanaka, who apparently had recovered enough from the wound suffered during the munitions raid to join them. Kenshin’s face must have still looked rather stormy, for Yoshida said, "What’s eating you, kid?"

Kenshin glared at him and said, "You ever had any dealings with that seamstress Junko?" He purposely left off the honorific.

"Yeah, sure, she gives a discount to the Ishin Shishi," he replied. "Why?"

Kenshin gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Finally, in an exasperated tone, he said, "Can I help it if I’m short?!"

Yoshida burst out laughing. "You’re a real hoot, kid, ‘ya know that? A real hoot! Have a seat!"

Kenshin sat down, but he sensed a feeling of hostility coming from Sato. He looked at the man and noted a distinct look of unease, but he shrugged it off. Instead, he turned to Tanaka and said, "Tanaka-san, I’m glad to see you’re feeling better."

"Thanks, Himura," Tanaka responded, "though I can only have soup. I’m still pretty weak."

Dinner progressed without incident, other than that sense of unease coming from Sato, but when Yoshida suggested that Kenshin join him and Sato on a trip to another Chousu rooming house for some gambling, Sato suddenly whispered, "Yoshida, no!"

Yoshida seemed surprised by his comrade’s behavior. He stared at Sato for several seconds until it dawned on him what was going on. "Sato, he’s fine, he’s ok. He’s not gonna hurt anyone."

Now Tanaka was confused. He tugged at Sato’s sleeve and said, "What’s going on?"

Sato leaned over and, pointing at Kenshin, said quietly, "That’s the hitokiri."

Tanaka’s eyes widened briefly before his face resumed its impassive look. Kenshin stood at this, visibly trying to mask the hurt he felt, and said, "Yoshida, I don’t want to make things difficult for you and your friends. Thanks for the invitation. I can go do something by myself this evening." Then he walked away.

Yoshida glared at his companion and leaped up to catch Kenshin. "Hey, don’t take off like that," he said quickly. "Sato doesn’t know what he’s talking about!"

Kenshin looked at him, his face unreadable. "You warned me this might happen, remember? The other night, you said the men might want to have nothing to do with me once they knew what my job was. Well, I guess you were right."

He kept on walking, heading for the courtyard.

"Himura, wait." Yoshida continued to follow him. "You should know that Sato and I saw you leave last night. You may not realize it, but you looked pretty scary, almost like someone different."

"What?"

"If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve sworn it was someone else," Yoshida continued. "And although I’m not the best reader of ki that ever was, there was no mistaking the ki coming off of you, and it was dangerous. I’ve only known you a couple of days, but I know you’re not really like that. Sato just doesn’t know that. I do know, however, that you’re the best dice player I’ve ever met, and I sure would like to wipe out those guys at Miyabe’s."

Kenshin’s face remained impassive, but Yoshida could tell he was closing himself off. "Himura, if you don’t come with us, I’m gonna lose my shirt," he finally said. When he still got no response, he added, "Let me talk to Sato, beat some reason into his thick skull. With you on our side at dice, we can’t lose, and I know he’ll be interested in that."

Kenshin hesitated only a moment. Then he said, "Thanks for the offer, but I didn’t sleep well last night, and I’m very tired. I really ought to turn in early." Then he walked back inside and up the stairs. ‘Well,’ he thought as he entered his room and closed the shoji, ‘at least Yoshida and Shozo don’t seem to be afraid of me,’ but it was cold comfort in light of the knowledge that the other men would, indeed, shun him because of that word—hitokiri.