This fan fiction is based on the Rurouni Kenshin manga. Rurouni Kenshin characters are the property of creator Nobohiro Watsuke, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Sony Entertainment, and VIZ Comics. This is a non-profit work for entertainment purposes only. Permission was not obtained from the above parties.
Tomoe’s questions cause Kenshin to doubt the rightness of his actions just as the black envelopes start coming again.
None.
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Descent into Madness: Chapter 13


by Conspirator


It had been three days since Kenshin was attacked by the Shogunate assassin, three days since he brought Tomoe, who had witnessed the attack, back to the inn. Since that time, he had not received any black envelopes. He figured it was because Katsura was concerned that there was a traitor in their midst. Or maybe it had to do with those rumors that something big was in the works, although he heard that Katsura was dead set against whatever it was. It was the longest break from killing he had had since last winter’s blizzard, and he was determined to enjoy every second of it.

Unfortunately, it was raining too hard at the moment to wander around town, which he often did just to people-watch, so he sat in his room spinning his top. Some people thought spinning tops was a mindless activity, but then they hadn’t studied with Hiko. It was Hiko who taught him how to start the spin while at the same time launching the top into the air. With skill, he could pick a target, launch the top, and have the top land directly on the target, all without losing the momentum of the spin. He was in the midst of such a launch when Tomoe walked in, fresh from having served and cleaned up from breakfast. She was startled to find Kenshin in the room at this hour, and he was startled to see her, causing the top to stop spinning in mid-air and fall to the floor with a thump. Tomoe started backing out of the room, saying, "So sorry, so sorry," over and over, but Kenshin stopped her.

"No, no, it’s okay, it’s your room, too," he said as he went to retrieve the top.

Although they had now been sharing a room for three days, somehow Kenshin still felt totally tongue-tied in this woman’s presence, and she still continued to be a complete mystery to him in every way. So, they remained in an uncomfortable silence until, finally, Kenshin said, "Maybe Okami-san will be able to find a room for you soon."

"I don’t think so," Tomoe replied as she went to her pile of belongings. "She says a large group of men should be arriving any day, and everyone will have to double up."

"Oh," he said. So the rumors were true, he thought, as he started spinning his top again.

Another few moments of silence descended. Then Tomoe said, "I didn’t know soldiers played with toys."

"The top?" Kenshin said. "I’ve had this for as long as I can remember, almost since I was born."

"How old are you?" Tomoe asked.

"Almost fifteen—another few weeks," Kenshin answered.

"I’m eighteen," she said.

"Oh," he replied.

Tomoe had now picked up some mending to do and was threading her needle as silence once again came over them.

"I don’t even know your surname," Kenshin finally said, breaking the silence. "You do have a surname, don’t you?"

"Yes," she said shyly. "It’s Yukishiro. Yukishiro Tomoe."

A few more moments of silence passed. Then she said, "And I don’t know your first name."

"Kenshin," he answered just as shyly. "Himura Kenshin."

"Heart of sword?" she said. "Your parents must have had a premonition."

A premonition? Of what? Then he realized what she meant. "Oh, no," he said quickly. "My shishou gave me that name. My parents died when I was five."

"Oh," she said.

That uncomfortable silence descended yet again. The rain seemed to be relenting somewhat, so Kenshin got up and reached for his umbrella.

"Well, I’ll be going," he said. "I’ll probably see you at lunch."

"Hai," she said.

Her eyes were downcast as she said it, but as he walked out he could feel her eyes on his back. This time, however, the sense he got from her was not one of purposeful information-gathering, as he had felt when he was on the roof the day before, but a kind of perplexity, as if she were surprised about something. And later in the morning, when he carried in some water buckets for her, he sensed a kind of calmness in her that hadn’t been there before. At least she didn’t shrink away from him!

He had just left the kitchen and was going back to his room before lunch when Iizuka caught up with him. He knew before the man opened his mouth what was in store for him—he knew his holiday from killing couldn’t last. Sure enough, Iizuka handed him not one, but two black envelopes. Kenshin had become somewhat relaxed over the past few days, as he usually did when he had a break from the killing, and as usual, that feeling evaporated in an instant with the appearance of a black envelope. He could feel his mind shut down and the hitokiri’s coldness take over. Tomoe must have seen them talking in the hall, for as he walked away he could hear Iizuka telling her she probably wouldn’t see him again until tomorrow.

Iizuka was right. Kenshin didn’t even stop in his room before heading off to his secluded meadow to read the envelopes and practice his kata. He didn’t even care that it was still drizzling. Two killings tonight. How many did that make for the entire month? Twenty-five? Thirty? How many had he killed since he had started nearly nine months ago, and still the new era had not come. Katsura had told him last fall that, with luck, maybe everything would be over in six months. Well, here they were nearly nine months later and, at least to him, nothing had changed. Still two more killings to do.

He mechanically went through his kata, clearing his mind of its doubts. These two killings were nothing special—both men would be walking with bodyguards, and he knew exactly where and when to find them. He did his usual preliminary work to scout the areas. When evening came, he stopped at a bar for some food and sake. Then he went to the first location to await his target.

It was while he was waiting that his mind started to part ever so slightly from its hitokiri mold. Why, it wanted to know, was this man marked for death? What made him so different from anyone else that his very existence was a threat to the Ishin Shishi? Kenshin had to consciously close down this line of thought—it was enough, he told himself, that the Ishin Shishi said so. And when his target came into sight, Kenshin descended on him and his four bodyguards like a dragon from hell. This time, though, the dragon hesitated for just a fraction of a second as his mind wondered one last time why these men deserved to die. They were all dead in an instant, of course, and to the untrained eye the work was godlike in its speed and efficiency, but to Kenshin it was a shoddy piece of work indeed.

Then it was on to the second assignment of the night, but now his mind started nagging him again—why did that man’s four bodyguards have to die? All they were doing was earning their pay. Did that make them bad, or could they perhaps have been good people who happened to earn their living with their swords? Damn that question from Tomoe! Kenshin had long ago stopped asking for information on his targets—Iizuka had been right about that, it wasn’t a good idea to know too much—but now he longed to know.

He was now on the outskirts of town, hiding in the shadow of a grove of trees while awaiting his second target. He saw the man and his three bodyguards approach, and he forced himself to concentrate only on the task ahead. He was about to quietly move towards them when he heard the man say to his bodyguards, "Wait here, will you? I have to take a leak."

With all the stands of trees in this area, the man chose to head for the trees where Kenshin was hiding. Kenshin quickly surveyed the changing scenario and concluded that perhaps at least these bodyguards could be spared. He quickly swung up onto a tree branch as his target started walking over. As the man began to undo his hakama, Kenshin jumped down, quiet as a cat, and said softly, "I am here to deliver ‘Heaven’s Justice.’" The quiet of the little grove seemed to magnify the whoosh made by the lightening-swift arc of Kenshin’s blade. It seemed to magnify even the soft hiss made by his blade cutting through the flesh and bone of the man’s neck. And it seemed to magnify the two thuds as first the man’s head, then his body fell at Kenshin’s feet. Kenshin was long gone before the man’s companions started wondering what was taking so long and found the body of their master lying on the ground.

As usual when Kenshin returned to the inn, he went to the washroom off the kitchen to wash his hands and pour some water over his head. Another six lives. He washed his hands again, and again, and again. It seemed recently that no matter how much he washed his hands, he could still see and smell the blood on them. His clothes were bloody from the first attack, and he needed to wash them, too, but it was well past midnight, and Tomoe was surely asleep in his room at this hour. He should have thought to grab his old green gi and spare hakama before leaving earlier, but he hadn’t, so he went to his room and quietly retrieved his clothes without disturbing her. He then proceeded to the shed near the kitchen to spend the night. He could wash his clothes in the morning.

It was probably a good thing he slept in the shed, for his nightmares were worse than usual. The problem started as he was trying, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep. It had been awhile since the last time, but Hiko once again managed to invade his mental space. "You will have to join one side or the other, and they will use you!" he remembered Hiko shouting at him the day he left. "If you leave this mountain, you will live the life of a murderer under the direction of men who write their own justice!"

Hiko. He hated to admit it, but maybe the arrogant bastard was right—maybe he was being used. He was so tired of the killing, so tired of the black envelopes, so tired of despising that part of him that actually enjoyed the thrill of battle. It was a long time before he finally managed to fall asleep—a sleep broken by dreams of bloodied and mutilated bodies, of severed heads rising from the ground to curse him, of that man who was about to get married.

He finally woke up sometime around breakfast—it was the smell of food and the sound of men eating that eventually woke him. He quickly smoothed his hair and tried to straighten his clothes, and then walked in late to the dining room. He took the only available seat, across from Iizuka.

"That was a lucky break last night, eh? By that stand of trees?" Iizuka said.

Kenshin was still a bit groggy. All he managed was, "Huh?"

"That guy taking a leak! What a break for you!" Iizuka said breezily.

"Oh, yeah," Kenshin grunted. He dug hungrily into his food.

"But it looked like you were a little slow on the draw on that first one," Iizuka continued.

"Oh, that," Kenshin said dully. "It won’t happen again."

"Well, that’s okay, kid—it was still a thousand times faster than anyone else can do," Iizuka concluded.

As Tomoe passed by to return to the kitchen, she nodded to Kenshin. He nodded back, then realized that he looked a mess, and it had been several days since he had thought to check to see if he needed to shave. He had never really cared before, but now he felt his chin. Only a tiny bit of stubble—not too bad. He resolved to remember to take care of that after breakfast.

Wait a minute! Since when did he care what he looked like? It was that Tomoe woman! She was messing with his mind! ‘Remember,’ he told himself, ‘you are a hitokiri! It’s not good to get close to anyone!’

In fact, when he looked down at his hands he could still see, in his mind’s eye at least, the blood from last night’s assignments. What was it she had said when he returned her tanto? She needed it to protect herself from assassins like him. He closed his eyes and steeled himself as the accustomed wave of shame rolled over him. Yes, he was a hitokiri, and no number of days without killing would ever change that fact. The least person on the street was better than he was, for they did not kill from the shadows. His appetite was gone now. He pushed his food away and got up. It was time to deal with his clothing from last night—might as well not put it off any longer.

So, he got a bucket, a washboard, and some soap from the washroom off the kitchen, and went out to the shed to retrieve his dirty clothes. Then he set to work by the well to clean the blood and gore from his gi and hakama. He was elbow-deep in suds when suddenly Tomoe appeared beside him.

"I’ll do that for you, if you’d like," she offered.

Kenshin blanched and pushed everything down into the suds—he didn’t want her to see what had made the clothes so dirty. "No, that’s okay," he replied quickly.

"Really, it’s no problem," she said as she started tying her sleeves back.

Kenshin forced the clothes to the bottom of the tub to keep her from touching them. "No, I don’t think you should…" but she was already bending down to take over.

"I had to work last night!" Kenshin finally blurted out. "You don’t want to see this!"

"I know," she said softly. Then she placed a hand on his arm and gently pushed it away. "I’ve seen blood before."

Kenshin sat back on his heels, not knowing what to say or do. He just sat and watched as she calmly inspected the front of his still-bloodied gi and proceeded to rub it against the washboard. He was suddenly ashamed of the fact that his one and only blue gi was heavily patched from all the use it had gotten.

"You need to have some mending done on this," she noted as she stuck a finger through another hole in the fabric. "I can fix this for you later."

"Oh, no, I can do that," Kenshin mumbled. He didn’t know what to make of this.

He continued watching her as she methodically cleaned both the gi and the hakama. When she was done, she asked, "Where do I hang them?"

"In the room," he answered, still too astonished for words by this act of kindness.

He followed her upstairs and helped her lay the clothes out to dry.

"Perhaps you should consider buying a new hakama," she said as she fingered the badly frayed edges of the fabric.

"Yes, um, thank you," Kenshin replied. Then she left.

He sat in stunned silence. What was going on here? One day she’s eyeing him in a way that set off his hitokiri alarms, the next day she’s doing the nicest things for him! Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure out what. His mind started to wander as he sat there until he realized that what he really needed to do was talk with Katsura about this. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Katsura or even Katagai since their talk the morning after he had brought Tomoe back to the inn. He knew Iizuka would know their whereabouts, so he searched him out. He found him lazing in a sunny patch at the far end of the courtyard.

"Iizuka!" Kenshin shouted from across the way, breaking the peace of the courtyard.

Iizuka shot up like someone had poked him with a red-hot iron. "Battousai! Don’t scare me like that!" he cried out. At Kenshin’s glare, he added, "I mean, Himura."

"Where’s Katsura and Katagai?" Kenshin asked point-blank. "I really need to talk to one of them right away."

Iizuka gave him a long, appraising look. "Ohhhhh, love life getting you down?" he smirked.

"Lay off!" Kenshin retorted testily. "I just need to speak to them. Katsura never finished his talk with me, and now I have some things I need to bring up with him."

"Well, they’ve been pretty busy," Iizuka said, rubbing his chin in thought. "Lots of meetings—day and night, in fact. Katagai’s barely been sleeping here, and Katsura’s been staying with his consort mostly, but I can tell them you want to see them."

"Please do that. And by the way, her surname is Yukishiro, and she’s eighteen."

"Oh, so you’re making progress!" Iizuka said with a leer.

"Iizuka…," Kenshin growled menacingly. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

"Can’t even take a little joke, can you," Iizuka muttered as he got up and dusted himself off. Then he reached into his sleeve and drew out a black envelope. "I was going to give this to you before lunch. Might as well just give it to you now."

Kenshin looked at it in disgust. He snatched it out of his hand, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the courtyard.

"Getting a bit touchy, isn’t he," Iizuka commented to no one in particular.

Kenshin practically knocked a few men over as he strode back into the inn. He didn’t know why, but now he was angry—angry at Tomoe, angry at Iizuka, angry at himself. He had somehow managed, over the past nine months, to find a way to survive the life he had to lead, but in three short days Tomoe had succeeded in breaking down his barriers. As for Iizuka, the man seemed to derive some kind of perverse pleasure in taunting him about his so-called love life. And himself? He reserved his harshest condemnation for himself. How could he let his guard down so much! How could he let himself feel anything, even after Tomoe had been kind to him! He was a hitokiri, and he’d better not forget it or he’d be dead! He mentally closed the barriers in his brain with a loud snap.

He knew she would still be in his room, but he went up anyway to grab his hat—the late spring sun had been getting rather intense lately. She said a soft hello, but he merely glared back at her. Then he was off to the meadow to practice. His anger at the world left little mercy for the tiny grove of trees—three saplings tasted the wrath of his sword, and the ground gave way as it absorbed a vicious Do Ryu Sen. He glanced at the contents of the black envelope—great, a kill at someone’s home again. He hated those; they caused the worst nightmares.

He decided to put off his scouting for the job until after lunch and instead just sat in the middle of the meadow, staring off into the mountains. His anger at the world was such that he was even angry at them. ‘Damned mountains!’ he raged to himself. ‘It was because of you that we were shielded from the worst horrors of the age! If we had lived here, in Kyoto, Hiko would have wiped out the evil long ago, before it could fester! Why couldn’t Hiko see that! Then there wouldn’t have been a need for the Ishin Shishi, there wouldn’t have been a need for me to offer my arm and my sword, there wouldn’t have been a need for me to kill….’

He stormed off back toward the city and the inn for lunch—he may have been angry, but he was still hungry! If he had even bothered to notice, he would have seen that people hurried out of his way as if they instinctively knew that something dangerous was in their midst. But he was oblivious until he came to the edge of the marketplace, for there he saw one abuse too many—a samurai beating up an elderly shopkeeper. He heard the samurai yelling something about not bowing properly and the old man pleading for mercy. He strode up and in the blink of an eye had whipped out his sheathed sword and cracked it over the back of the samurai’s neck. The man crumpled. Then he walked calmly away without even a backwards glance.

There were several seconds of stunned silence, but then all hell broke loose. The onlookers rushed to help the old man, who lay on the ground bleeding from the beating he had received, while others went over to kick the now-dead samurai, but no one was quite sure just what had happened. Hadn’t there been someone in a hat? Was that who did it? Better get rid of this body before the police showed up! And Kenshin didn’t care—just another victim to add to his long list, and this time a very obviously deserving victim, in his opinion.

Even at the inn, the men could tell that Kenshin was in a dangerous mood—they, too, parted as he passed by them, and no one wanted to be near him at lunch. That was just fine with him because he didn’t want to be near them either, so he grabbed his tray of food and took it to his room. Then he wolfed down his meal and left. Even Okami couldn’t get a civil word from him—he just growled "Go away" when she thanked him for bringing his tray back to the kitchen.

There was not much to his scouting trip—luckily just a simple house on a secluded street, not many guards. And the job itself turned out to be just as simple—just slip over the fence by the large maple tree, slit the throat of the guard by the kitchen door, behead the target while he meditated, then leave the same way he came. This time, however, on his way in to do the deed, he passed the room of two little children, asleep. He could see them through the partially opened shoji—they looked so peaceful all cuddled up in their blankets. It made no difference, though—their father was about to meet his ancestors for his crimes against the people. What were those crimes, by the way? Didn’t matter. He coldly and clinically did the job.

It was when he got back to the inn that it all hit him, as it always did. Those children—they were now fatherless, and it was because of him! He went to the room off the kitchen to wash his hands, but now he could barely stand to look at those hands. He had killed these children’s father! No amount of washing would ever remove that stain. As he stood there, washing his hands over and over, he heard a sound. It was Tomoe standing at the doorway, a robe covering her sleeping yukata. He stiffened.

"Don’t concern yourself with me," he said, forcing himself to maintain his cold exterior.

"Do you intend to keep killing like this?" she asked quietly.

He turned to look at her, not saying a word.

"I know you’ve been sleeping in the shed," she said finally. "You should sleep in your own room tonight."

‘Damn right,’ he thought to himself. ‘It is my room, after all!’ "Yes, I will," though, was all he said aloud.

He turned back to the wash basin and continued rinsing his hands as he heard her leave. He waited until he was sure she would be back in the room and under the covers before going there himself. He knew she was watching, although she pretended to be asleep, as he went to the far corner and settled himself down, sword propped on his shoulder.

His dreams that night were horrendous. He kept seeing those two children, innocently sleeping in their beds. Then he saw them awake, crying in torment at the sight of their headless father. In his dream, their mother came to them covered in blood, but it wasn’t their mother—it looked like Tomoe. The mother who was Tomoe suddenly saw him and lunged at him with a tanto; his dream self calmly sliced her in half. He woke up screaming, only to find the real Tomoe kneeling in front of him. He began to sob.

"Himura-san?" she whispered softly.

He continued to cry, his shoulders shaking with each breath.

"You don’t really like to kill, do you," she said gently.

"No!" he sobbed, "No!"

Japanese Terms:

Kata: prescribed moves for practicing a martial art.
Ishin Shishi: nickname for the anti-Shogunate factions.
Tanto: small dagger.
Do Ryu Sen: the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu move in which Kenshin hits the ground with his sword, causing massive destruction to anyone standing in the way.


Author’s Note: Before all you OAV-watchers flame me, one comment about the conversation with Tomoe at the beginning of the chapter. If you read the manga, you’ll find that when Kenshin asks Tomoe her name, she answers only with her first name, so it’s appropriate for him to finally ask what her surname is (he can guess she’s from a samurai family because she knows how to read and write); this is different from the OAV. Next chapter, Kenshin and Tomoe come to an understanding, and Kenshin encounters the Shinsengumi as things start to heat up for the Chousu.

Thanks once again to all our reviewers for all your kind comments, suggestions, and support! You are truly the best reviewers a writer could ask for: Colleen, Imbrium Iridum, Wickedtigerlily, Calger 459, Haku Baiku, Akai Kitsune, Clarus, Amamiya, Inuyashalover03, AC, Aishuu Shadowwish, Korie Himura, Shadowfyre, Mayorie Icegirl, Mireiyu, Illustrious Sorrow, Jovian Angel, Selim the Worm, Angelhitomi, Corran Nackatori, Queen of Shadows, Insert Catchy Name Here, Tracey Claybon, Youkai-Onna, Shinta, Jedi-Iwakura, Neko Oni, Luna-Sarita, Stizzo, Lucrecia LeVrai, Beriath, Sheik Muhammed, Arthain, Arctic Neo, Sawdust Monster, Blaze of Fire, and Ariane Deralte, Archangel Rhapsody, Steffe1, and Blade of Fire.


CoConspirator’s Note: Hmmm, Kenshin with stubble—now there’s an interesting picture!!

Darn those pesky women, not to mention those mountains—so troublesome!! ^_- Things got a little more exciting in this chapter, but nothing compared to what’s coming up!! Well, ja ne!!
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