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An Unexpected Lesson: Chapter 4

by Conspirator ::: 20.Apr.2004

"Papa!"

Three-year-old Nomi was running towards the wagon that was coming into view. Only an hour earlier, Daisuke and Ryosuke had gone to town to bring back her father, Ennosuke, who was recovering from surgery to his broken leg. Now they were back, and Ennosuke was sitting on the front bench with them, a pair of crutches at his side.

"Papa, Papa, Papa!"

A wide smile broke out on Ennosuke’s face-he was as happy to see his daughter as she was to see him. Noriko hurried after her daughter and managed to catch her before she reached the wagon. Then she picked the little girl up and held her out to Ennosuke so she could give her father a kiss. Nomi watched impatiently as Daisuke and Ryosuke helped him down and handed him the crutches. He hobbled over to his wife and daughter and gave them both a long hug.

"Welcome back, Youngest Son!" Ikuko cried out as she hurried forward, followed by the rest of the family. "We’ve been so worried!"

"I’m fine, Mother," Ennosuke said, "just tired, that’s all."

Noriko started to lead him over to their tent, but Nomi was pulling on his kimono for attention.

"You have to meet my new friend," she said. "He’s over there."

Ennosuke looked over to where she was pointing and saw Kenshin sitting against a tree, hemming the sleeves of his new gi. Ennosuke said something to Noriko and then turned to slowly follow Nomi over to Kenshin. When Kenshin saw them approaching, he quickly put down his sewing and stood to greet them. He gave a deep, formal bow when they reached him.

"His name is Kenshin-san," Nomi informed her father very solemnly, "and he calls me Nomi-dono!"

Ennosuke smiled and said, "Does he, now?" Then he returned Kenshin’s deep bow and said, "Once again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you did for me. Satoshi-sensei told me that if it hadn’t been for your skill in setting my leg, I would probably have a limp for the rest of my life. As it is, he says it’ll be as good as new. I will be forever grateful."

Kenshin bowed even deeper. "Sessha is glad to have been of service."

Kenshin now had his first chance to really see the man he had helped. There was a strong family resemblance, but Ennosuke was definitely shorter and built somewhat thinner than his father and brothers. He looked to be not much older than Kenshin-perhaps Baiko’s age-and Kenshin could see very clearly that he was happy to see his wife and daughter again. He could also see that Ennosuke was pale and tired, so he leaned over to Nomi and whispered, "Perhaps you should take your father back to your tent and let him take a good nap."

"Come, Papa," Nomi said, and she started skipping back as Noriko and Ikuko helped him follow.

Kenshin went to pick up his sewing again, but Daisuke stopped him.

"Himura-san," he said, "this is a little sooner than I had planned, but your first performance will be tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Aa. When I went to pay Satoshi-sensei, he asked if we would be willing to give an actual kabuki performance for the town instead of paying him for his services. I was somewhat surprised by the request, but when I thought about it, it seemed like a good idea. This way, you could get those first-performance jitters out of your system right here, get a feel for what it’s like to perform in front of an audience. Otherwise, your first performance would be in front of the Shimazu clan, in three days’ time. Second Son agreed with me. So we’re going to put up the portable stage right away and get out all the props-that should take us about forty-five minutes or so. Then we’ll all put on our costumes and makeup and rehearse so you’ll know exactly what everything will look like and feel like. I figure if we hold off dinner until late, we can get in about three hours’ worth of rehearsing before the light gives out."

So, the moment of truth had come, Kenshin thought with dread-they were going to do him up in a full costume. He had practically climbed out of his skin just putting on the chest-piece and kimono. What would happen when they decked him out in a wig and makeup, too?! Well, no sense putting it off, but there was one thing he needed to be sure of.

"Sessha would prefer no mirrors," he said quietly.

Daisuke burst out laughing. "Agreed!" he said as he pounded Kenshin heartily on the back.

Despite his offer to help set up the stage, Kenshin was told instead to practice the movements he had been taught earlier that afternoon, as well as walking on the high geta. So, he took the geta and headed towards the stream, where he figured he could practice-and fall, in all likelihood-away from prying eyes. When he got there, though, he found that Bunjiro had already staked out the area as his. Bunjiro had one of the fake swords and was half-practicing the kabuki sword kata and half-play-acting at being a samurai. Kenshin nodded to the boy, then put on the high geta and started practicing the kata he had invented for himself to learn to move like a woman. Bunjiro stopped briefly to watch him, then went back to swinging his sword. After a few minutes, he said, "Kenshin-san, you know how to use a sword, right?"

"Aa," Kenshin replied as he teetered along in his high geta.

"Could you show me how to do a real swing with a sword?"

Kenshin smiled. He had been watching Bunjiro make wild parries and thrusts and found it highly amusing, although he never would have said so. He bent down to remove the geta and walked over to the boy, standing behind him and reaching around to grasp his hands.

"First you must hold the sword like this," Kenshin said as he corrected Bunjiro’s grip. "Then you swing like this."

He helped Bunjiro do a few simple diagonal swings, then stood back to let the boy try on his own. Bunjiro caught on quickly.

"You know, I get to start real kenjutsu lessons when we get back to Kagoshima," Bunjiro said enthusiastically as he practiced his new skill. "It’s Kogen Itto-ryu, the one my father learned, and all my uncles, too."

"It’s a good style," Kenshin said as he stepped in to correct Bunjiro’s technique.

"Were you a soldier like Baiko-san?" Bunjiro asked as he continued to practice.

"Sort of," Kenshin answered.

"Which side did you fight on?" Bunjiro asked.

"Imperial," Kenshin replied.

"Good! They were the good guys," It was said with all the certainty of a twelve-year-old. "You know why they were the good guys, don’t you? ‘Cause the new government says we don’t have to be the same thing our parents are-we can be anything we want! And I don’t want to be an actor like my father-I want to be a soldier and kill off all the bad guys and be a hero, just like in our plays!"

Suddenly Kenshin grabbed the sword’s dull blade in mid-swing, causing Bunjiro to yelp in surprise.

"You don’t understand what you’re saying." Kenshin’s voice had turned cold, but there was fire in his eyes. Bunjiro gasped. "You don’t know what it’s like to kill-to see the light go out of a man’s eyes as he dies, to see his life’s blood drain away. It’s not like one of your plays, where a man dies and then picks himself up to play another day! When a man dies, it’s forever! Listen to your father-be an actor. Don’t make a mistake you will regret for the rest of your life."

Kenshin pushed the sword away, then turned quickly and walked back to where his geta lay in the grass. Bunjiro stood shaken and speechless from the encounter. Kenshin could feel the boy’s confusion and fear. He kicked himself mentally for having scared the boy so much, but Bunjiro needed to hear those truths sooner rather than later.

"We probably should be heading back," Bunjiro said in a subdued voice. "They’ve probably got the stage set up by now"

"Probably," Kenshin agreed.

The two started walking back towards the campsite in complete silence.

"Bunjiro-san," Kenshin said, breaking the awkward quiet between them, "sessha hopes you do get to study kenjutsu when you return home. You will enjoy it, and you will be good at it. Just remember never to dishonor its teachings."

Bunjiro looked over at Kenshin, life springing back into his eyes. "Hai, Kenshin-san! I’ll remember!" And he ran the rest of the way back to the campfire.

When Kenshin reached the campsite, he saw that it had been totally transformed. Instead of just a clearing with a wagon, campfire, and a few tents, there was a large, raised wooden platform with a long ramp at the back leading to one of the tents. The platform itself looked like someone had cut the side wall off a house, for it seemed as if one could look right into a living room and kitchen, complete with the usual items that any normal home might contain. There was a small decorated screen, two futons folded neatly in a corner, a small shrine in honor of ancestors, a hearth with a pot hanging over a fake flame, and a small table set for dinner. He expected at any moment that someone would walk right in and stir the kettle. He stood gawking until he felt a light tap on his arm. It was Ikuko.

"You like our stage?" she asked.

"It looks so real," he said in awe.

"And you will look real, too, Himura-san, as soon as we get you made up and in your costume," she smiled. "Come with me."

She led him over to the wagon and motioned him in, then sat him down on a bench.

"Now, Himura-san, I know you aren’t used to being touched this way, but I’m going to have to rub your face and eyelids with white makeup," she began.

Kenshin appreciated the warning. He knew she had noticed him tense every time she had occasion to touch him before-he hoped she didn’t know why he tensed-so he made a concerted effort not to tense this time, but it wasn’t easy. If nothing else, his years of fighting had taught him that it was dangerous to let anyone touch him; it wasn’t an easy habit to break.

Ikuko had been rummaging for what she needed and now returned to Kenshin bearing several pots of makeup. She found him sitting ramrod straight and stiff as a tree trunk, his eyes squeezed shut as if steeling himself for a blow.

"Himura-san," she whispered somewhat theatrically, "it’s just my fingers I’ll be using, not a sword, you know."

He opened his eyes slightly to see her holding out hands full of white goo. Before he could do anything to stop her, she quickly put a glob of makeup on each of his cheeks and started rubbing. He was startled to find that the makeup felt rather cold. He sat as still as he could while Ikuko deftly spread the goo all over his face, neck, and eyelids, spending a bit of extra time where his X-shaped scar was. Then she took a black stick of what looked like charcoal, ran a brush across it, and started painting over his eyebrows, then around his eyes.

"You’re doing fine, Himura-san," she said when he flinched from the brush. No one had ever gotten that close to his eyes-ever-and he hoped no one ever did again!

She was about to dip another brush into a pot of red when Orinosuke suddenly burst in, his eyes raging in anger.

"What have you been telling my son?" he bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at Kenshin. He looked ready to haul Kenshin up by his gi again and punch him out.

"First Son, what on earth are you doing?!" yelled a startled Ikuko. She was helpless to stop his onslaught, burdened as she was with a paintbrush and paint pot in her hands.

"Shut up, Mother, this is between the two of us! It’s bad enough my oldest son thinks he can go be a soldier, but to have you filling his head with some kind of claptrap about kenjutsu…how dare you! I won’t have you interfering where you don’t belong!"

"Orinosuke-san," Kenshin interrupted, "I told him to listen to his father and become an actor."

"What?"

"Your son told me how he wanted to learn kenjutsu and become a soldier," Kenshin continued as calmly as he could. "I told him to enjoy the kenjutsu, but that he should listen to his father and become an actor, that’s all."

Orinosuke was in such a rage he could barely process what he heard. He glared at Kenshin and Ikuko, and clenched and unclenched his hands as if ready to punch them both out. He’d be damned if he’d be deterred by what Kenshin had just said!

"Just stay away from my children," he bellowed menacingly, "or I will have you thrown out on the road!"

All this time, his wife Mayako had been standing outside, yelling, "Husband, stop!" That brought Daisuke running, his makeup only partially applied and his hair disheveled. Baiko and Ryosuke were right behind him. They arrived just as Orinosuke stormed out of the wagon. Daisuke grabbed him and spun him around.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Daisuke shouted. "Who are you threatening? What the hell is going on here?"

Ikuko stuck her head out the back of the wagon, her face contorted in rage. "He told me to shut up," she said, her voice shaking in anger. "My own son told me to shut up! I won’t have it, I tell you!"

The yelling and screaming continued outside even after she turned back to the wagon. When she did, she found Kenshin holding his head in his hands, and when he looked up, it was with eyes full of hurt. He usually did such an excellent job of hiding his emotions that she had not realized until now how expressive his eyes really were.

"Ikuko-dono," Kenshin said softly, "perhaps it would be best for this one to leave right away. Sessha does not want to be the cause of such distress to your family."

"No, you will stay," she said firmly. "You may be the lightning rod, but you’re not the cause of the lightning. This is something that’s been brewing for months, ever since First Son found out his father does not intend to move back to Kyoto. That’s what First Son thought we would be doing this summer-moving back. When he found out we would be touring as usual, he exploded. Seems he’s been holding in a lot of anger since we left Kyoto seven years ago."

She picked up her red paint pot and brush and proceeded to paint Kenshin’s lips.

"He was twenty-three when we left Kyoto, you see, and he had already started to gain quite a reputation as a dramatic actor. He had already married Mayako, who was from one of the most prominent kabuki families in the city-a match anyone would envy-and he fully expected his life to play out just as his father’s had. But it was the Year of the Rat, what they call 1864, and Kyoto was in chaos. You’re probably too young to remember, but back then Kyoto was being terrorized by hitokiri who struck without warning and by those vicious Shinsengumi thugs, who thought nothing of slaughtering people first and asking questions later. Our audiences became too afraid to go out to the theater; it was hard to keep afloat. That’s when we got the offer from the daimyo of Satsuma to move to Kagoshima. Seems one of his top aides had secretly attended several of our performances and was really taken by what he saw. After the Ikedaya incident, we decided it was time to leave, so we took him up on the offer. First Son was devastated, but he understood the need to leave. Within a week, we were gone. Husband has always promised we would return to Kyoto when the war was over, and certainly once the Boshin War was settled, but we’ve been so successful in Kagoshima that he sees no reason to return. Orinosuke is bitter."

Too young to remember? That was a laugh. If only it were possible not to remember! It tore at his heart to know that he had been one of the reasons this family had had to flee Kyoto. There were only a handful of hitokiri in Kyoto that year, but most did not live more than a few months. It was only the Hitokiri Battousai-him-who had lasted long enough to cause so much terror. He had always known that what he did brought anguish to those who were members of his victims’ families, but it had never occurred to him that what he did might have harmed countless others by depriving them of their livelihoods. Ikuko could sense the despair that was overtaking him, but she mistook it for pity for her family.

"Oh, don’t feel sorry for us," she said as she started to wrap a wide strip of cloth around his hair. "We’ve done quite well in Kagoshima, and our other sons seem quite happy. Why, Second Son-if he can perform and have people enjoy it, that’s all he wants from life. Youngest Son-Kagoshima is really all he’s known professionally, so he’s happy there as well. But First Son? He’s gone back to Kyoto a few times to perform with Mayako’s family as an honored guest performer, just to make sure his fame in Kyoto is not forgotten. That family never had sons, and they want him to move back and become their lead actor, even take the most revered name of that family, but he cannot cross his father. Here, let’s put that wig on now."

She opened the box of wigs and picked out one that had the hair piled high in a bun. It wasn’t too elaborate, but it became more so as she added a few ornate hair pins. She placed it on Kenshin’s head and tightened some strings to make it fit snugly. To him, it felt like someone had placed several pounds of something unstable on his head.

"There," she said, cocking her head to one side, "now you look like a proper homemaker!"

If nothing else, having the wig placed on his head served to banish his self-loathing from his mind, for he now had something else to concern him-as he turned his head this way and that, he felt like the wig was going to fall off. When he stood, he felt so top-heavy he almost lost his balance on the high geta.

"Sessha is not sure if walking is possible with this wig!" Kenshin said as he stood unsteadily to start putting on the costume kimono.

"Oh, you’ll get used to it," Ikuko said. "Just remember to always keep your chin up, that’s all."

Chin up, eh? Now he knew why he heard mothers tell their daughters that all the time-so they wouldn’t tip over from the weight on their heads!

It was time to put on the kimono, so he removed his sakabatou from his obi and placed it carefully on a side bench. It didn’t matter that he now looked two-thirds like a woman. Removing the sakabatou from his belt still left him feeling unsettled and somehow naked, although he knew he could not proceed with it on. Ikuko handed him the chest-piece and then the kimono-no going back on this now, he thought. At least she was being true to her word-with his new green gi on, she was not requiring him to strip and put on a separate underkimono, for which he was very grateful. He put both on, then held his arms up so that Ikuko could wrap and tie an obi around him. He was finally entirely dressed and ready to rehearse.

The commotion, he noticed, had died down outside the wagon. That was a relief, for there was no way he could deal with Orinosuke’s anger dressed as he was. The commotion had been replaced, however, by a massing of the entire family to witness the debut of their new onnagata. As he emerged, the children clapped and the women murmured "Perfect!" He was highly embarrassed. Then Ryosuke, whose face had been made up to look like a frightening demon, stepped forward to offer his arm.

"Onna-san," he said with a formal low bow, "allow me," and he began to help Kenshin down from the wagon as if Kenshin were a real woman.

"Ryosuke-san, please!" Kenshin whispered as he attempted to push Ryosuke’s hand away. "Really, sessha can manage on his own!" Although, truth be told, he did need the help, what with those unstable high geta he was wearing.

"Ah, but Himura-san," Ryosuke retorted in a similar whisper, "you are a lady now. Whatever you do while in your costume you must do as a lady."

"Everything?!" Kenshin asked in a somewhat panicked-sounding voice.

"Well, almost everything," Ryosuke answered with a twinkle in his eye. He handed Kenshin a fan. "Here, use this. It’s what the ladies use to help hide their embarrassment."

Kenshin was now safely on the ground but wishing he were anywhere but. A fan? How the hell was he supposed to use that? He whipped it open in the only way he knew, which was the way he had once seen Serizawa Kamo, the Shinsengumi captain, do with his feared, lethal iron fan.

"Oh, and Himura-san?" Ryosuke said as he tried to hold in his laughter, "it’s supposed to be used gently, not like a weapon."

Kenshin looked around at the family and saw they were also trying hard not to laugh. Ryosuke was now miming the way a woman would open and use her fan, so he quickly copied the gestures and hid his face.

"Excellent," Ryosuke said enthusiastically. "Now, as soon as Father is done putting on his make-up, we’ll get started."

When Baiko saw that the two were making no move to start rehearsing yet, he hurried over to Kenshin and whispered, "Could I have a private word with you-onna-san?"

"Not you, too," Kenshin groaned.

Baiko ignored his comment and grabbed him by the elbow to lead him away from the others. He was clearly agitated.

"Listen, Himura, I found Orinosuke-san going through your things a little while ago," he said in a voice only Kenshin could hear. "He’s convinced there’s something dangerous about you, and he seems determined to find out what it is."

Kenshin was suddenly on alert. His eyes darted over to where Orinosuke was standing, arguing with his wife.

"Did he find what he was looking for?" Kenshin asked.

"Well, of course not-you don’t have anything worthwhile in that bag of yours!" At Kenshin’s surprised look, Baiko added, "I had to look through your stuff when you first came-while Ennosuke-san’s leg was still stuck under the wagon. I mean, we had to know right off the bat what kind of man we were dealing with, didn’t we?"

Kenshin tried to swallow the anger he felt mounting within him. He respected others’ belongings and felt somewhat violated that his had been searched, though he could understand why Baiko had done so. Orinosuke, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether.

"Baiko-san, thank you for warning this one," Kenshin finally said tensely. "Sessha has found out what lies at the heart of his anger, but why he has targeted this one remains a mystery."

"Just be careful around him," Baiko said. Then, with a sly smile, he added, "Especially in your condition."

"My condi-what?!"

Baiko started chuckling uncontrollably. "Do you know how stupid I feel talking to you-know-who when he looks for all the world like some ditzy woman?"

Kenshin whipped out his fan, but not in the feminine manner, causing Baiko to take a hasty step back.

"A Shinsengumi captain’s killing technique," Kenshin said pointedly; then just as quickly he snapped the fan closed.

He gingerly walked back to the stage, managing to make it without falling or turning his ankle. Daisuke was ready and waiting and so too, Kenshin noted with apprehension, was Orinosuke. He was sitting on the ground, arms crossed and eyes glaring, waiting to criticize the result of not only Kenshin’s performance, but the whole rewriting process as well. There was no way they could teach Kenshin the highly stylized way kabuki actors spoke their lines. Instead, they had transferred his lines to Daisuke’s character, the exorcist, who would deliver them while watching the action from the sidelines. They were relying on Orinosuke to tell them if the change worked.

The first run-through was difficult. Kenshin knew what he had to do, but combining it with using props and remembering to move like a woman proved to be a daunting task. Ryosuke kept whispering, "Too tense, Himura, too tense!," and Orinosuke kept shouting corrections and suggestions that made his head spin. Even the bean-throwing scene at the end, which was supposed to be fun, seemed filled with tension. It had taken forty-five minutes to rehearse the twenty-minute play, but to Kenshin it seemed like hours. When he looked out at Orinosuke, the man was shaking his head in disgust.

Daisuke and Orinosuke started cleaning up the stage and setting it up to rehearse again. While they did, Ryosuke took Kenshin aside and said, "What happened to that sense of fun you had this afternoon?"

Kenshin looked at him like he was crazy. "Ryosuke-san, between the wig and the high geta, sessha is just glad to stay upright!"

"There was a reason I ordered you to play that practical joke, you know," Ryosuke said. "Remember how you felt when you planned it? Remember how you felt while you waited for Orinosuke to fall into your trap? Remember how you felt when he stepped into his zori? That’s how you need to feel as you do this play."

Kenshin had started smiling with Ryosuke’s first question, and the smile had continued to grow with every word until he found himself chuckling. It had been so long since he had done something as lighthearted as playing a practical joke on someone, and it had been rather amusing to watch Orinosuke’s reaction to those first sniffs of squashed ginko berry. But more than that, he remembered how wonderful it felt to laugh again. It was a feeling he was determined not to lose ever again. He looked at Ryosuke with renewed respect-this man was far wiser than he had given him credit for.

The second run-through was much more satisfactory. Kenshin started to find the fun in acting the part of the widow. He no longer needed to use his senses to predict what Ryosuke’s character would do-he knew from practice. So, he started finding ways to tease Ryosuke while still adhering to the script of the play. Ryosuke seemed surprised at first, but he was clearly delighted with what Kenshin did. This time the bean-throwing scene had the air of fun it was intended to have, with Ryosuke throwing some of the beans at Kenshin, and Kenshin catching them and throwing them back as he had accidently done earlier that afternoon. When he looked out at Orinosuke at the end, the angry glare was gone, replaced by a grudgingly positive look.

Music was added to the third run-through, and the entire family came to watch. To Kenshin, however, it didn’t matter. He found himself as totally focused on the play as he would have been in a swordfight. This time Ryosuke gave as good as he got, teasing Kenshin throughout the play and particularly during the bean-throwing scene. He decided to surprise Kenshin this time by throwing some beans with one hand while rolling others towards him on the floor. Kenshin hadn’t expected this, and because he still was not an expert at walking or running on the high geta, he slipped and suddenly found himself on his rump, arms and legs akimbo.

"Oro!" he cried out in surprise.

Oro? Where the hell did that come from, he wondered! Why, he hadn’t uttered that word since…. since Hiko managed to push him into a mud puddle during a sparring practice! It was shortly before Kenshin had left the mountain for good, and he remembered with satisfaction that Hiko had had great difficulty defeating him. He quickly brought his mind back to the present, however, and scooping up a handful of beans, he threw them with the godlike speed of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu at the laughing Ryosuke. The ‘demon’ was vanquished in the hail of beans, and the play was done. Applause broke out from the family.

Daisuke rushed up and started pounding Kenshin on the back, saying, "Brilliant, Himura-san, brilliant! Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had experience doing this kind of thing!""

"Great job!" enthused Ryosuke. "I couldn’t have done it better myself." Then he turned to Orinosuke, who had come up onto the stage. "What do you think, First Brother?"

Orinosuke had his arms crossed and a frown on his face. "At least he won’t be an embarrassment," was all he would say. Then he walked off to start putting the props away.

For the second time that day, Kenshin felt the warm glow that came from laughing, from having a light heart. He was still somewhat stunned by that ‘oro’-a word from his days of innocence, a word he hadn’t even thought of in perhaps eight years. What was happening to him! He went off to the wagon to take off his costume and make-up and was surprised to find he didn’t even flinch when Ikuko came to wipe off his make-up. Still, it was with great relief that he picked up his sakabatou and slipped it into his belt. Yet even this he seemed to do with a lighter heart. He felt a tiny smile creeping across his face.

Meanwhile, Daisuke and Ryosuke helped clear the stage and then retired to the tent attached at the rear to remove their costumes and makeup. As he took off his wig, Daisuke said, "Well, that certainly went better than I expected. The rurouni seems to have a knack for comedy."

"Uh-huh," Ryosuke replied as he started wiping make-up off his face.

The two continued on in silence for awhile. Then Daisuke said, "You’ve spent more time with the rurouni than any of us. What do you make of him?"

Ryosuke stopped in mid-wipe and thought.

"You know, I’m not sure," he answered. "He’s very serious, very focused-a quick study, that’s for sure-but…. You know, this afternoon when we first started practicing, he was so tense I had to keep telling him to lighten up, which he seemed totally unable to do. So when we got around to the bean-throwing scene, I thought I’d just throw a few beans at his back while he was walking away from me-you know, see if I could at least goad him into a good food fight, so to speak-and…. Well, it was the most amazing thing. He couldn’t have known I was throwing the beans because his back was to me, but suddenly he whirled around and snatched the damned things right out of the air! I mean, he was so fast my eye couldn’t even take it in! What a skill-audiences would love it! And you know what he does? He apologizes! Says, ‘I’m sorry, it was instinct!’"

"Instinct, huh? He sensed the beans coming?" Daisuke turned this over in his mind. "Anything else?"

"Well, he said it was something his shishou taught him. ‘Shishou’-isn’t that the old-fashioned term for a master teacher of kenjutsu?"

"Aa, I believe you’re right," Daisuke said. "So, the rurouni is trained in kenjutsu. Well, that would explain a lot. Your mother is convinced he was a soldier once, and advanced kenjutsu teaches a swordsman how to sense an opponent’s ki. It all makes sense."

They continued wiping off their make-up and changing their clothes. Then Daisuke said, "Your brother is convinced he’s a dangerous man. He’s not often wrong."

Ryosuke snorted. "You need to let First Brother leave for Kyoto."

"Hmph," Daisuke muttered. Then, "You didn’t answer my question."

Ryosuke sighed. "Dangerous? Well, who knows what’s in his background, but I can tell you the boys love him-he’s taught them to search for birds and such in the trees. Mei is thrilled. And little Nomi-did you see her today? She practically climbed into his lap this afternoon. Kids can sense these things. You think they’re sensing he’s dangerous?"

"And you?"

"Me?" Ryosuke said. "You know, the hilt of that sword he’s got is pretty well-worn, and despite all his ‘sessha’s,’ there’s an air of self-assurance about him-you can see it in the way he carries himself. Does that mean he’s dangerous? Maybe confident of his abilities would be more like it. But how he uses those abilities? He seems anxious to hide them, if you ask me."

"Hmph," Daisuke muttered again. "Well, we’d best still keep an eye on him, I suppose."

"Hmph," Ryosuke agreed.